 
### Blood Squad

### by Rae Monet, Inc.

Published by Rae Monet, Inc. at Smashwords

Copyright 2011 Rae Monet, Inc.

Cover design copyright © 2011 Rae Monet, Inc.

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

Blood Squad, first story of the Blood Squad Series

At a time when humans and vampires have signed a forced truce, a multiple murder will upset the balance of their world. One human and one vampire hold the key to keeping the peace.

The year is 2075, and FBI Special Agent Killian Gray has a secret. She can see the psychic signature of vampires. This power comes with a price, a debilitating disease pushing Killian toward her own destruction. When her federal homicide team, dubbed "The Blood Squad," is called to solve a heinous crime, the case takes them into the dark underworld of the Sangerian Vampire clan. Suddenly, Killian's abilities become useful. Instead of working with her own squad, Killian is forced to team up with the vampire clan Chief of Security, Dacon Sangerian.

Dacon Sangerian's people have been providing protection for the Sangerian Clan since its formation. Bred from a long line of warriors, Dacon toes the line of the blood clan laws and takes his responsibilities seriously. Clan regulations dominate his life. In the 21st century, vampires no longer require human blood to survive, but some vampires choose to follow the old ways. Humans listed in the "Book of Willing Donors" are welcome into the clan; and so they have become a necessary annoyance for Dacon to manage. The first blood rule of the Sangerian Clan is simple: turning an unwilling human into a vampire is punishable by death. It is Dacon's job to ensure this rule is followed.

As Killian and Dacon work to solve a case that could start another war between humans and vampires, they battle with forces of evil that could destroy them both.

### Blood Squad

### by Rae Monet, Inc.

Glossary of Terms for the Year 2075

AIGU=Artificial Intelligence Gathering Unit, a mechanical unit that assists in evidence gathering.

Android=Mechanical android programmed in whatever capacity they are needed.

Anime Rockers=A fad for young people like the Goth period.

AP=Auto Piloted Vehicle=A vehicle piloted by an android.

Auto-blaster=A laser that can shoot in a successive blast.

Blaster=A laser that can be shot one trigger pull at a time.

Blood injects= Blood synthetics produced in the Sangerian lab that supplement a vampires need for blood.

Chief of Security-Commander=The position that runs security for the Sangerians, the person is this position is addressed as Commander.

Class A, Falen=A helo powered jet, like a helicopter.

Comm=Like a cellular phone, used as a communication device.

Crazik=A new drug like Crank but way worse.

Directional locator=Think GPS.

Enora Silk=Brand name like Armani.

F-211's=The Air Force's Newest jet, like an F-16.

FBI San Francisco Violent Crime Specialized Homicide Unit=The unit Killian leads for the FBI.

G-Profile=The name for a vampire's DNA profile.

Halmo Wrestler=Like a Sumo wrestler.

Holo-simulator=A room that produces holographic images, think Star Trek.

Imagegraphs=Like a photograph.

Imagegraphers=A position in the FBI, think Crime Scene Tech who handles taking all the pictures and sketching the crime scene.

L-500 laser blasters=A laser blaster issued only to Law Enforcement Officers.

Laser knives=A knife that cuts with a laser charge.

Laser-proof armor=Armor resistant to laser fire.

Light radar (L-Radar)=A new form of radar that uses light technology.

LEO issued Blaster=Blaster only issued to Law Enforcement Officers.

LNA, Leave Nothing Alive=A weapon Dacon had made especially for him.

Mexican Republic=R. Mexico=A Republic formed by Mexico where most illegal activity is run through.

Nacrilian=A substance harder than steel.

Neurontin=Pain killer that numbs the nerves.

No Fangs Allowed=NFA=Thirty-story glass building where all the vampire hunters are housed.

Organics=Vegetables grown without pesticides.

Panera RT-7 sports model=Fastest car on the market.

P-55 missile=An illegal missile with an intricately guided warhead.

P-9500=Think Palm.

PO, Personal Organizer=Think Palm.

Ph.D. in Hematology=A new degree program that focuses on the study of blood.

PV=Piloted Vehicle=Basically a car which has a driver.

Raz tracker=A tracker designed to track a vehicle by transmitting a signal to the satellite.

Realm of Human Hunters-NFA=A group of humans who have dedicated their lives to hunting vampires.

San Francisco Quakes logo=The new City of San Francisco Football Team.

Silver laser-guided exploding bullets=Silver bullets that explode upon impact.

The Book of Willing and Select Donors=The book that holds the names of all the humans who donate their blood to the Sangerians.

Treaty of the Vampire-Human Factions=Signed into agreement February 12, 2060 the treaty negotiated between the Human Hunters and vampires over 15 years ago to stop the fighting. Also referred to as the Vamp war treaty of the factions.

Sangerian Coven=The Coven of Vampires, over 2000 people strong, housed underground.

Vampire Liaison=Position held by Byron Sangerian, as described by the signature page of the Treaty of the Vampire-Human Factions.

VECTRO=A virus developed by the Human Hunters to kill vampires.

Sangerian Coven Blood Rules Descriptive Handbook=Book that has instructions and interpretations of the Sangerian Coven Blood Rules.

Vamp war treaty of the factions=The treaty negotiated between the Human Hunters and vampires over 15 years ago to stop the fighting. Also referred to Treaty of the Vampire-Human Factions of 2060.

ZAT lift=The underground lifts that run the length of the underground Coven caverns. Think simple subway.

Prologue

Signature page from the Treaty of the Vampire-Human factions, year 2060.

This full document stands as the final agreement between the Sangerian Vampire clan and the Human Hunters. Both factions will be represented by their appointed leader, known throughout the course of this document for the Sangerian Vampire clan as Clan Leader, Roman Sangerian, and for the Human Hunters, Queen, Adella Manning. Notwithstanding a violation of this agreement, this treaty will remain without expiration. At such time a violation of this agreement occurs, the treaty will be considered null and void. One vampire agent is allowed occupation on the surface to monitor treaty activities and act as a liaison with the Human Hunters. All other surface visits must be approved per the treaty, page 95, paragraph 6.1.3(a). The Human Hunters have accepted the Sangerian Vampire Coven Blood Rules in their entirety, as attached. Changes to the accepted Vampire Coven Blood Rules must be approved by the Human Hunters. This agreement will stand in effect and is considered binding even in the circumstances of leadership changes to either and or both factions.

By signing below, I approve and accept the treaty for my faction in its entirety.

Signed Coven Leader

Roman Sangerian

February 12, 2060

Signed Queen

Adella Manning

February 12, 2060

Chapter One

Sangerian Coven Blood Rule number one: Turning a human who is not within the Book of the Select Willing Donors is punishable by death.

She had wondered how long it would take before she could actually hear them speaking to each other...her mother had warned her that eventually the lesions would dig deep enough, grind themselves so far into her brain that it would happen.

Now it had.

Her ears rang with the deep chatter of their kind, the vampires, and it nearly drove her crazy. Nothing concrete, just a constant buzz. Like it wasn't enough to see their psychic trail light up like the annual Christmas tree in New York City or have her neurons constantly screaming at her, _there's one, there's another one._ No, now she had to hear them too.

She shook her head. _Christ._

Killian Gray shut the door to her autopiloted vehicle and took in the scent of industrial Oakland, oil mixed with ocean, a strange combination. She could see the edge of the port in her limited vision and beyond that she knew the Bay Bridge led to the Golden Gate. Every once in a while, the blast of an outgoing turbo-freighter's horn echoed across the area.

She popped a couple of Neurontin nerve pain killers into her mouth like they were breath mints. Twelve hundred milligrams could knock out a Halmo Wrestler, but these days even that prescription teetered on ineffective. Still, the drug would dim the voices and her pain to a dull roar and give enough relief to get her through this crime scene without her head exploding.

The biggest problem right now was the sunrise peeking over the horizon.

The light bothered her optic nerves, so she came to work in the dark and left in the dark. Made the other agents think she was mysterious, but to her, it was the perfect persona to maintain for the leader of the FBI San Francisco violent crime specialized homicide unit.

She picked up Wana's harness and pressed her knee to the furry body to indicate it was okay to move forward. Wana complied.

"Okay, girl, with only one good eye left, I'm relying on you to get me through the day and keep me out from under the next flying vehicle," she joked. Wana gave a "ruff" and trotted forward.

The breeders had said Wana wasn't calm or pure enough to be a guide dog for the partially blind. Guide dogs were no longer needed, they told her. Why not purchase an artificial companion to help? Killian had laughed and bought her anyway, then had Wana trained specifically for her needs. She didn't want any stupid synthetic idiot as her buddy, no thanks, her driver was bad enough. She wanted something alive and a little wild; like Wana.

"Dr. Gray, shall I remain here?" Her android chauffeur's mechanical voice stopped her. _Where else does he think I would have him go?_ She gritted her teeth. This is why she had Wana.

"Yes, that's fine." She acknowledged his request. He was a driver, nothing else, no emotional chips or interactive programs. The only data he held in his wires and neutronic syntax was the streets. She liked it that way. She didn't have to chatter with him. Besides, he wasn't the fastest processor. He was on sale, a bargain credit purchase. The federal government always went for top-of-the-line—not.

From the outside, the industrial park district was a clean place. The average law-abiding civilian had no idea what was really going on behind the closed doors of these big buildings, crazik narcotics labs, turbo chop operations; name the crime and she could guarantee it was happening here. The city never seemed to grow up from its dark past, leaving a cesspool of criminal elements remaining. The local policeman guarding the crime scene glared at her until she eased out the FBI badge hanging around her neck and displayed it.

"Special Agent Killian Gray. I'm here to process this crime scene per your request," she leaned down and read his tag, "Officer Riggs."

"Oh, yes, Agent Gray from the Blood Squad. Thanks for coming down so quickly. We appreciate your help. This is beyond us, a real weird one. They say it's your area of expertise."

Riggs raised the yellow "do not cross" force field high enough for her and Wana to walk through. He sent up a single brow and his forehead wrinkled as he stared from her to Wana. Killian didn't need two perfect eyes to know skepticism filled his face. She could tell he didn't think a half-blind woman and her scruffy dog could process a crime scene. Ignoring his silent criticism, she walked into the building.

"Welcome to crimson hell. Never seen anything like this." Following her in, the officer gestured at the bloody carnage in the warehouse.

"Yeah, I'd say," Killian responded without thinking about it, her mind mapping the crime scene; the vastness of the empty building with its peeling, gray-painted walls, the abandoned, scattered industrial machinery and overflowing garbage bins.

Nothing left but the vampire bodies and plenty of vampire leavings, way more than she'd ever witnessed before; a no-no in the vamp world. Vampires weren't supposed to exist to normal humans, _yet here they were_ , fourteen bodies lying in one perfect row. Each with a severed head placed carefully above the neck, showing at least a six-inch space in between it and what was left of the body. Of course, the police officer couldn't recognize what they were. Officer Riggs saw normal dead bodies. Except for their teeth, dead vampires appeared the same as dead humans and right now she didn't see any of them with their mouths wide open.

Killian was going to have to talk to Byron, the vampire liaison she'd formed a relationship with several years ago after the murder of one of his own. Usually, they cleaned up their messes. And this was a mess. Surrounding the row of bodies, blood and body parts were thrown all over. Obviously the vamps had fought hard to live prior to this neat display as evidenced by the chunks of torn flesh, pools of blood and dark, vertical wall spatter. Then they were simply laid out on the bare concrete warehouse floor like slabs of disposable meat. The murderer or murderers had worked at this exhibit. She just wasn't sure what else their plans entailed.

She hadn't seen so many murdered vampires in one place since the vamp wars and only a hunter would have those unpleasant memories. It was going to take hours to weed through this crap. Despite the warmth, cold wrapped around her and she rubbed her hands together.

Her thoughts traveled back in time, remembering the butchery of the daylight runs her mother would force upon her. The blood, so much blood, and the mindless slaying. She shook her head, refusing to think about her former life as she shifted her attention back to the crime scene before her.

"Would you be kind enough to grab my tactical on-scene kits from my APV, Officer Riggs? The yellow and gray ones?" She gave him a sweet, sugared-down, sloppy smile she knew would bring action. She was attractive and she recognized it, even with her dark sunglasses, so she didn't hesitate to use her femininity. With her health waning, every advantage she could get was important.

He gave her a toothy grin. "You bet. Be right back." He jogged off toward her APV.

She wiped away her smile as she tried to track the vampire blood with her optic ability, but the rivers of red bled into each other, causing signatures to mix and blur.

She sighed and ran a hand through her hair. It was going to be a long night. Killian glanced up at the windows of the building and the coming daylight. In four hours, the sun would begin deteriorating the lining surrounding her optic nerves, blinding her in the left eye even more. It was like dimming a light bulb. It was warm, the June heat beating down on her. Another harmful factor for her disease, it never ended. She couldn't let the frustration of her physical limitations get to her. Time to get to work.

"Here you are, Agent Gray." Riggs set down several of her evidence kits.

"Thanks so much. Now, if you would secure the crime scene again and let me do what I do best, I would greatly appreciate it. No one enters unless I authorize them. The Feds have this one now. Understand?"

"Understood." He saluted with an open-handed wave to his forehead and pivoted back to the building entrance.

Killian surveyed the mess. The smell of death hung in the air like a morgue. While she unhooked Wana, she grimaced at the headache lurking behind her temples, preparing to make its appearance. _Death. Blood. Another day at the office_. _Will I ever get used to this?_ She hoped she didn't, then she'd really be in trouble.

"Go relax, girl. You can't help me here right now."

Wana sank down. Resting her head between her paws, she waited close by, ready to help if needed. Killian recognized, as she always did, that Wana would shadow her through the next few hours and make sure she didn't misstep. Wana was her savior. The guide dog let out a huge sneeze and shook her head.

"I know, girl, smells icky, doesn't it?" Killian wrinkled her nose.

"What have you vamps been up to now?" Killian murmured. I need to talk to Byron about proper maintenance on the vampire-killing field. But first, I have to get these bodies to the morgue. She flipped her comm open and touched a button.

"Blood Squad," she said, and voice recognition dialed for her.

"Knight here." Sie Knight's somber voice answered on the other end.

"Sie, I need you to call the squad. Meet me at Embers and Seventh, industrial park, Oakland. We'll have to page up the Imagegraphers as well as the Coroner, everyone. You know the drill. We've got a live one. Well, more than one." She grinned at her own internal joke. Sometimes injecting humor into the most gruesome of circumstances made it not so horrific.

"Right, boss, I'll page them up."

"And have Jinx contact my vamp source, Byron Sangerian. I want to meet with him tonight—midnight, the usual place."

"Got it, boss, see ya in twenty."

"Thanks, Sie."

She reached down to feel for the Braille on her evidence kit, then placed her thumb on the pad next to the catch. A mechanical puff of air told her the kit was functioning. With her left eye, she watched the front slide open.

"Good evening, Dr. Gray. Please identify your requirement and I will assist you."

"Well, it's actually daytime, AIGU." AIGU was the Artificial Intelligence Gathering Unit that assisted her in evidence collection. Basically a high-tech computer that could see. At night she needed AIGU more, because she couldn't make things out as well. She reached in and gathered her latex spray, covering her hands and feet. Wouldn't do her any good to leave her own trace evidence.

"Time to get to work, AIGU. Stand by."

"Yes, Dr. Gray. Standing by."

Vampires, who needs them?

Chapter Two

Sangerian Coven Blood Rule number fifty-five: The Security of the Coven will be commanded by a Sangerian blood relative, passed down throughout the test of time.

Dacon faced his adversary, a muscle-bound human outfitted in standard leather armor. Battle-tried, the warrior stood over seven feet high, a good twelve inches taller than Dacon.

He would be difficult to beat. Dacon hoped so. Adrenaline pumped through his veins. This opponent might be worthy.

The hard dirt battlefield was familiar; sporadic screams from Dacon's fighting comrades-in-arms reassured him they were enjoying the clash as much as he. Dacon charged at the giant. Surprisingly fast, his adversary danced away. Dacon's incisors lengthened with the challenge of the kill. The hunt energized him.

"Is that the best you can do, Dacon Sangerian? I thought you were one of the greatest vampire warriors on this battlefield?"

The arrogant taunt made Dacon grunt and lower his head for the charge. In a flash of silver, his challenger drew a sword from his back and lunged forward, striking out. Honing his focus, Dacon sidestepped. The warrior tumbled forward. Dacon kicked him in the ass, landing him on his face. His sword clattered to the ground. The man flipped onto his back, jumped into an arch and was on his feet in seconds.

Not fast enough.

Dacon slammed his fist into the human's stunned face. The crunch of bones was satisfying as red oozed from his clearly broken nose. The scent of first blood exhilarated Dacon, strengthening his resolve to end this fight swiftly and take what he'd been craving.

"That's going to cost you." The human scooped his sword off the dirt and charged Dacon like an enraged bear.

Dacon twisted to the side, reached out and plucked the sword out of his opponent's hands. The man unleashed a thunderous yell. Dacon followed the turn and swiped his sword into his challenger's Achilles tendon, severing it through.

His opponent crumpled, landing in a heap on the ground. Blood surrounded his twitching limb, pooling under him in a mantle of red. Grabbing his leg, he cried out, "I surrender."

Dacon dropped his weapon and swept down. Seizing the man's hair, Dacon arched his head back. His enemy's ear-piercing howl echoed across the field. Dacon lowered his eyelids, savoring the sound of impending death, the surrender to fate at his hands.

Smiling, he released his hunger and let the craving consume him as he prepared for the final bite that would take the man's lifeblood. The power to kill felt so good, easing through him like a best friend coming home. Man, how he loved the sensation, missed it.

A growl came from deep in his chest. He hissed and sprang forward, plunging his teeth deep into the human's throat. The man gurgled his protest as Dacon sucked in his first taste of blood.

Dacon's body hardened, his heart pounding, a light behind his eyes exploded in pleasure. The body twitched, the last ounce of fight leaving the human. At the same instant, a blast from the overhead speaker arrested Dacon's enjoyment.

"Dacon, your presence is required in Roman's office. Immediately."

Dacon eased back from the man's throat in regret.

"Computer, end program."

The human and the battlefield disappeared. The black and white walls of the holo-simulator came into focus. His silver, formfitting holo-sim suit glistened red where the computer had given him actual blood.

"Computer, store program A-619, Commander Dacon Sangerian."

"Complying now, Commander Sangerian."

Hauling himself off the floor, Dacon made his way to the locker room to clean up. He couldn't answer the Sangerian Coven leader's summons all bloody, could he?

* * * * *

"I thought we operated under the strict Coven order not to interfere with Dr. Gray. Her status is monitor only." Dacon tossed Roman's antique sword letter opener back and forth between his hands. He hoped his brother couldn't sense how much he didn't want to deal with Killian Gray.

Roman glanced up, his face pale, his eyes bright blue against the blood-red velvet background of his office wallpaper; faint illumination complemented the crimson. The cold, black marble tile under his feet clicked when he walked, which always made for a dramatic entrance. An undated painting of ancient Rome, The House of Sangerian, was displayed prominently on the wall above Roman's head. A gift from the sister European vampire clan. Not a piece of paper was out of place on the Coven leader's organized desk when he answered. "We are."

"So why are you ordering me to assist her?" Dacon asked.

As Roman leaned back in his chair, he regarded him with an irritated scowl. Unease prickled at Dacon's vampire senses.

"Did I not just direct you, Commander Sangerian, to make yourself known to Agent Gray? I do not expect you to question my orders."

Dacon arched a single brow at Roman's reference to his vamp classification. It was very unusual for Roman to throw his power around. Discomforting tingles crawled along the back of Dacon's neck. He could feel sweat beading on his forehead.

"What is amiss?" Dacon jammed the letter opener into the wood of the desk and made eye contact with Roman. Something was terribly wrong.

Roman's shoulders dropped. "We have a murderer in our midst."

"How can this be?" Dacon stood. He usually knew of every single breach of the Sangerian Coven Blood Rules.

"Sit down, Dacon."

While Dacon sank onto the hard high-backed dark mahogany chair, Roman reached inside his desk drawer and withdrew a red envelope. Dacon shifted. Roman's chairs were designed for appearance, not comfort, hardwood with intricate rose carvings. Each rose supported a prominent thorn dripping with blood, reminding Dacon that blood was the life of the clan, like the tattoo on his shoulder.

Roman opened the envelope, dumped a series of imagegraphs onto the gleaming, dark desktop and fanned them out. Dacon sucked in a breath. Pictures of more than a dozen of their murdered clan sprawled out on the glossy surface.

"What is this? Who sent you these?" He leaned forward to examine the images, shock sending a jolt up his spine.

Roman slid the images back into the envelope and threw it at Dacon, who caught it with a flick of his wrist. A vampire's reflexes were sharp and he was an exceptional vampire, from a long line of warriors. In the year twenty seventy-five, they called his job security. His family had provided safety for his clan since the formation of the Sangerian Coven. The wellbeing of his vampire brothers and sisters was in his hands and he hated it when others disrupted his world.

"Byron contacted me confidentially. Only you and I know of this and I mean to keep it that way."

Dacon nodded. He understood the need to maintain silence. One of the vampires in the Coven could be involved. Roman was the high leader of the clan and Dacon's brother by blood. It made sense for their liaison, Byron, to contact him only.

"How many dead?" he asked as he opened the envelope and flipped through the images. The scenes sickened him.

"At least fourteen. I don't have all the details. Byron met in secret with Dr. Gray last night. She was annoyed, to say the least. She will keep the bodies until she determines the cause of death, then release them to the clan. I have contacted the families and told them I sent their loved ones on a blood hunt. They don't know their children are dead yet."

Dacon dropped back in the chair and closed his eyes. The thorn carvings pushed into Dacon's back, reminding him of his priorities. The death of any Coven member was a burden on his soul, but fourteen of them? He grieved silently as he opened his eyes. Rubbing the bridge of his nose, Roman met his stare. Roman's eyes flashed red with his fury.

"I want you to make contact with Gray, work with her. Find out who murdered our people," Roman ordered.

"With the exception of the wars, we haven't had this many of our kind murdered in the entire two hundred years I've handled our safety," Dacon said. Sometimes it felt like he'd kept order in the Sangerian clan since he was born. "Could the human vampire hunters be active again, breaking the treaty? After fifteen years of peace, they could be getting restless. I can't believe another war might be looming."

"I don't know. I've contacted our liaison for the hunters. They were all accounted for yesterday. You'll need to talk with them as well." Roman's voice still quivered. "That is, after you make contact with Gray."

"If I work with Killian Gray, she'll be privy to full disclosure of our existence. It will be difficult to maintain secrecy on our way of life. Too many humans outside our trusted circle knowing of us is not advisable."

"I realize this. I'm willing to bring her into our world if she agrees to maintain silence. She can be trusted, we know this already."

Dacon growled. He hated humans. With the exception of the Willing Donors—generations of human families who'd sworn a pact with the clan to guard their secret, watch over their existence—he had as little contact with humans as possible. He preferred feeding his blood hunger with the synthetic injections developed by the clan laboratory technicians.

The Sangerian clan was housed deep underground, the property purchased at the turn of the twentieth century. No humans, beyond the Willing, knew of the complicated catacombs and housing beneath the five hundred acre orchard that supported near two thousand clan members.

"I will make contact; however, I will not agree to release any information until I am certain she can be trusted."

"Dacon, she's already proven trustworthy. She's been working with Byron for over three years since she took on this ability—"

"I've been briefed on her abilities." It irked Dacon that a human could see them. There were murmurings she could recognize any vampire by their aura. He wasn't sure if he believed the whispers.

Killian Gray, and the fact she already knew of the Sangerians, had been a thorn in his side for years, almost as bad as the chair he sat in. For the most part, he ignored her and let Byron keep her under control. Obviously he couldn't dismiss her any longer.

He rose, ready to leave.

Roman raised his hand.

"Dacon." Roman's stern tone arrested Dacon's departure. "I, of all people, understand your aversion to humans, but I can't trust anyone else to deal with this. If the hunters have reappeared, this could start another war. There would be much bloodshed. We will all lose. We must stop whatever is happening. For now, you'll have to put your feelings aside."

He stood and offered his arm to Dacon. Dacon moved forward and clasped his hand around Roman's forearm in the handshake of fellow warriors. Before they initiated, then signed, the treaty with the Human Hunters, Roman had fought by his side many times.

"I understand. I will not let the clan down."

Roman gave a single nod. His fingers tightened briefly on Dacon's arm, then he released him.

"Be careful, my brother. Stay safe."

"I will. I'll contact you via a secure link within the next twenty-four hours." Dacon gave the Sangerian ultimate sign of respect by placing a fist on his heart and bowing to Roman. Roman did the same back.

Dacon strode out of Roman's office, determination in his steps as he prepared to connect with Special Agent Killian Gray. Dread weighed heavy on him. Humans always seemed to bring trouble.

Humans, who needs them?

Unfortunately, the Coven did. Dacon took solace in thinking about their fragility. Humans died so young. Killian Gray wouldn't live forever.

* * * * *

Dacon shifted gears in his car and accelerated. Despite the hazy Bay Area evening, the stars twinkled like lights in a laser show, giving an artificial quality to the night. Coming up top was a rarity for him, so he took a few minutes to enjoy the onslaught to his senses.

With the windows rolled down, he inhaled the sweet fragrance of flora the Altamont pass always seem to carry. The hot wind whistled through the confines of his car like a tunnel, ruffling his hair as the opposing vehicles commuted home in their everyday trek through life. _The boring existence of a human, how mundane._ Despite the late hour, the traffic going the other direction was still heavy from humans trying to escape from their self-made, crammed existence of the city to the country.

It always amazed Dacon how humans tried to occupy every inch of property on the surface, draining their natural resources and polluting the air and water with overpopulation. They actually had to make laws to protect their environment. The Sangerians would never have to do this. Seemed so ridiculous. He forced his mind back on task and touched his remote Comm to dial Byron.

"Hello." The sleepy voice of his brother wavered over the litecomm line.

"Byron, what the hell is going on?!" Dacon couldn't hold back his irritation. His brother should have made contact with him by now.

"Hey, bro. Not much, what's going on with you?"

"Byron—"

"Yeah, um, what's up, Bro?" He could see the drowsy mist hadn't dissipated.

Dacon bit back an expletive. "Need I remind you of your job, which doesn't include helo flying, BASE jumping, dating humans or sleeping in? These are luxuries other clan members don't have. You have a position up top most vampires would kill for." He never gave up an opportunity to lecture his liaison. Even on principle, he wanted Byron to understand the privileges his position carried.

"Oh man, see, I knew this call was going to be blah, blah, blah," Byron groaned.

Byron was the best operative he had on the surface, and if he wasn't so good at politics, keeping the relationship with the itchy vampire hunters uneventful, Dacon would have pulled him long ago. And frankly, their rule was blood protected the clan, and he had to remind himself...Byron was blood.

Dacon hardened his pitch. "Byron, did you not meet with Special Agent Killian Gray last night concerning the murder of fourteen of our own?"

"Yes, sir." Byron's tone immediately switched to serious. "Nasty stuff, man. Sorry I didn't call you first, but you know what the Rules say—"

"I wrote the Rules. I realize you were required to notify only Roman for containment purposes, but it's been hours since I talked to him." He tapped his fingers against the wheel.

"Don't you think we're a little bogged down with all these Rules—"

"No, I don't. Give me your report." Dacon shifted to sixth and hit full speed. He let the pleasure of the increased velocity soak into him. Enjoying speed was one of those human traits he did have to agree was thoroughly satisfying.

"You know, humans aren't so bad," Byron said.

"Humans are emotional creatures who carry enormous amounts of baggage. I wouldn't deal with them if I didn't have to. The Willing are annoying enough. I was much happier when we were killing them."

"There was a time, Bro, when human blood was our livelihood. Have you forgotten that life?" Dacon didn't like the fork this conversation was taking with his subordinate. Why were they even talking about this?

"Yeah, well, let's just say the war soured me to human blood." He tried not to contemplate life before synthetics, because then he would only want what he couldn't have. He had to set an example for his people, to show them human blood was no longer needed for their clan to thrive.

"You haven't met the right human...the women...man, the women are sweet," Byron sighed out the sentence.

Dacon rolled his eyes. Couldn't his brother take anything seriously? Dacon gritted his molars, trying to stop the rhythmic tic in his cheek and control his temper. Byron knew every button to push with him.

"Byron, you're not feeding outside of the Willing—not without the Council's permission—are you? That would be a direct violation of our treaty." _The treaty I've entrusted my brother to enforce._

"Of course not, it's my job to monitor the line of the treaty, not violate it." Byron's seemingly innocent manner wasn't lost on Dacon.

"You better not be."

"Dacon, my two brothers hold the highest positions the clan has to offer and I'm the official liaison for the Sangerians with the hunters. Give me more credit, please." His voice became mechanical, "I solemnly swear I've not taken human blood outside of the Willing since the treaty." He paused, as if he was done kidding around. "Besides, you know I wouldn't do that. The clan has my undying loyalty. I've taken an oath."

Dacon realized he was being a bit hard. He never questioned his brother's loyalty to the clan or Byron wouldn't be working for him. It was his smart-ass attitude that sometimes grated on Dacon. "Yeah, kid. Sorry." Dacon tried to fight the aggravation headache forming at the base of his skull. "This situation is testing my patience. Please, give me what you have to report."

"Killian's team is stumped with this one. She's processed the crime scene and sent everything to the human lab. Nothing concrete has surfaced as to why the murders happened or how."

"I'm on my way to see her now." He almost trailed the sentence with, "as much as I don't want to" but decided against it. Byron seemed to have an unusual connection with the human female. He could tell by the inflection in his voice when he talked about her.

"Be nice to her."

Dacon shook his head. "I don't know what you're talking about, I'm always nice."

His brother's "humph" noise made him smile.

"Yeah, well...still. Be nice. She's special."

"Of course. I'll be in touch." Dacon hit the disconnect.

Special. Dacon downshifted for a curve and back up, leaning into the power of the car as he muttered, "Special, huh? Killian Gray, you'd better not be toying with my brother."

Leave it to Byron to be taken in by a human. Sometimes the vulnerability Byron carried caused Dacon concern. His brother was young, sheltered; that was the problem.

Roman and Dacon had not allowed Byron to fight in the war. He was assigned perimeter security at the Coven, told to guard the main entrance. Little did Byron know Dacon had several additional backup personnel watching not only the Coven entrance but his brother as well, to keep him safe. There was no way he was going to risk the last of the Sangerian bloodline and his baby brother to the war. There had already been too much sacrifice in his family.

Byron had never experienced killing like the warriors of the Coven did. If he had, he would bear the same intolerance for humans.

And he wouldn't, Dacon concluded to himself, be as good as he was at his job.

Without the prejudices most Sangerians held toward humans, Byron was charismatic and charming toward the hunters. A skill which made Byron invaluable to the clan.

Dacon hoped Killian Gray hadn't fooled Byron. He held no misconceptions, she was human and they were always dangerous in a devious way. He couldn't imagine she'd be any different than every other human he'd ever dealt with.

Chapter Three

Sangerian Coven Blood Rule number five hundred and seventy: Respect of your chosen mate is required at all times. A complaint of disrespect may be lodged with any Coven Blood Council member.

Killian closed her eyes. Her apartment was only a half mile from today's crime scene, an apartment situated on the second level of an old-fashioned cotton packing plant abandoned over a century ago, in a neighborhood that reeked of crime. On the positive side, the building was cheap and she didn't have to worry about the décor. The black coverings she placed over the windows to block out the light didn't bother her few neighbors. She left them alone and they did likewise, a perfect relationship.

Killian rotated her neck, hoping to ease the pain by stretching. It never worked. She took in a deep breath and attempted to meditate. Didn't help. She was really wound up, probably because she'd done too much in the sunlight yesterday. Now she was paying for overdoing it; the shakes, the pain, the weakness of her limbs and the ringing of her ears. The disease attacked every aspect of her central nervous system as if it was tossing a salad.

It was either she was overtired or it was the crime itself. _Another vampire murder_. The last one she'd processed had been simple...a single homicide and the first time she'd worked with Byron Sangerian. Open and shut, it was solved within a week and retired to her closed file.

Now this murder, it was much more complex, and with no physical evidence to go on and so many bodies, this one was sure to complicate her life.

It was more than the murders though, it was the hunters, the memories, years she'd chose to leave behind and bury. That life was now trying to reassert itself, but she would fight it, as she always had. Why couldn't she just disregard the past? Why did it always have to make its way back like a horrific nightmare?

For her, it was mentally easier when the vampires stayed below and minded their own business.

She scrubbed her forehead with the heel of her hand.

Wana lounged on the couch next to Killian, her muzzle resting in her lap. Always sensitive to Killian's pain, Wana soothed it the only way she could—unconditional love.

Killian ran her hand over the soft white fur of Wana's head, lovingly rubbing. Wana gave a little groan and a sigh as she licked Killian's other hand. Killian smiled and took comfort in her best friend.

Wana's sudden growl jerked her back to the present. She tensed. Wana jump off the couch and formed a protective stance at Killian's feet, the back of her legs touching Killian's.

Killian whipped the LEO issued laser blaster from her shoulder holster and stood. Wana moved forward so she wouldn't impede Killian, but Killian knew she'd be there, if need be.

Why hadn't her security alarm gone off? She paid a lot of money to get the top-of-the-line system. As a federal agent, someone who placed people in jail for a living, she was paranoid about her home safety.

"Identify yourself," Killian shouted to the seemingly empty room.

Then she saw it with her left eye, a white aura, the faint outline of a man. She could smell him too, a spicy scent, unique, male, arousing, pleasurable. The outline shifted, and she mentally slapped herself out of her stupor. This was not Byron, the aura was slightly different, lighter.

"Vampire, I'd just as soon kill you as talk to you, so you might want to identify yourself. Right now!"

She came around the couch and pointed her blaster in his direction. Flicking her finger, she switched her gun to kill. The extra charge to the booster emitted a high-pitched hum. A shot from the gun might not kill him, but it would slow him down.

"There's no need to fire, Dr. Gray. I pose no threat to you." The smooth, seductive cadence of his voice sent a shiver racing down Killian's spine.

"That's great, then you won't mind slowly pulling out some identification and telling me how the hell you got through my security and into my loft?" Wana backed her up with a bark so ferocious Killian quickly glanced down, then up again.

"Dr. Gray, rest assured I am not here to harm you." He squatted down and addressed Wana. "Or you, my friend."

His lowered voice was compelling, bewitching. She fought an urge to sheathe her weapon, a compulsion she was pretty sure didn't originate from her own mind. Wana stopped growling and wagged her tail. Killian shook her head. As the daughter of a vampire hunter, she should have known he'd possess the ability to charm Wana.

He straightened and lifted both hands in the air, "I'm going to reach into my coat and withdraw my identification."

Killian nodded.

"My name is Dacon Sangerian. I'm here to talk to you about the murder of my clansmen. We have a mutual friend, Byron."

"Great. Just what I need. Another vampire to deal with." She moved forward to verify his identification, squinting her right eye to focus with her left. Sure enough, ID for Dacon Sangerian sat next to a gold badge etched with a sword piercing a heart. Roses engraved around it had thorns dripping with some sort of liquid.

She assumed the liquid was blood and suppressed a grimace. Why do vampires always have to be so dramatic?

Killian slid her blaster back into the holster. If he was acquainted with Byron, he wasn't a threat. She didn't have any reason to doubt him.

"What are you, Mr. Sangerian, a vamp cop?"

He snapped his wallet shut and slid it into his inside jacket pocket, every movement radiating irritation.

"Something like that."

"Looks like I don't have a choice. Come on, then." She waved a hand at the couch and moved toward her small kitchen nook.

"What can I get you? Do vamps drink? Water, tea, how about some red wine? Got some of that here somewhere." She ran her hand along the table and guided herself into the kitchen. Her night vision sucked.

She fumbled up the cabinet and tried to grab the wine, kicking herself for placing it so high. She really needed to get that shelf lowered.

As she stretched, an arm came around her, a chest touched her back. "Let me get that for you, Dr. Gray." His voice ran along her strung-out nerves and soothed, calming her. Her unwanted visitor reached up, plucked the wine down and placed it on the counter. He wrapped her fingers around the neck of the bottle.

A sensual tremor reverberated through her system. Want. Need. The touch of his calloused hand on hers shocked her. She sucked in a breath at her reaction and froze like a schoolgirl before her first kiss. Her back tingled from the contact. She wanted to melt into his chest and let him hug her.

She was horrified at her reaction. Of all the people, a vampire was the last person she needed to be fascinated with; nevertheless, she couldn't seem to help it.

She tightened her fingers around the bottle. He released her hand but hovered at her back, his head dipping down to her neck. She heard him take in a slow breath. Was he sniffing her?

"Do you desire anything else?"

His question left her head reeling, her heart pounding and her nipples peaking. Killian prided herself on her control, but this vamp was spinning her up faster than any other she had ever known. She wasn't sure if she should yell yes, liquefy against him or run.

She gritted her teeth and struck out in defense. Anything to hide her attraction to him.

"I desire for you to step back, buddy, before I feel the need to blow your vamp head off." She let go of the bottle and reached for her blaster. He tensed, but didn't stop her. She hesitated. Her fingers hovered over the weapon, but she didn't grab it. He would have swift reflexes. He could move way quicker than any human, yet he didn't. How interesting.

He clenched his hands beside her on the counter, then moved back. She stumbled. It was only then she realized she'd been leaning on him. She flushed. He placed a hand in the small of her back to steady her. His touch affected her oddly, warmth tripped into her veins. As if he realized his mistake, he removed his hand. The heat dissipated.

Her reaction to him brought confusion. She didn't usually form such quick attachments to men, but there was something about him. She turned to study him. He towered over her a full head and a half, forcing her to ease her neck back to examine him. Disheveled black hair fell around his face in contrast to the rest of the meticulously dressed man. His chiseled features were rough, yet they formed handsome lines, with full, sensual lips. She made eye contact and even a half-blind woman could see the startling blue of his eyes. His unwavering ice blue stare took the myth that vampires were all black-eyed and shattered it.

She couldn't stop staring at him. His suit was immaculate. Silk, and the most expensive Enora brand. She dropped her eyes and followed the drape of cloth down his body. Man oh man, he was big. She could see the bulging muscles under those elegant clothes.

Feeling his eyes on her, she glanced up.

He quirked an eyebrow. "Sorry about that. I assumed you needed assistance. My apologies. Obviously, I was wrong." He held up his hands in the universal sign of surrender and smiled. The dimple in his left cheek mesmerized her.

He was striking—the entire package, the innocent grin, the handsome face.

So why did she feel as if she was being served up for dinner?

"I don't need your help." She crossed her arms over her chest.

"So you can see out of both eyes?" His question seemed simple, but she sensed the anger burning underneath.

"No, I can't see out of both my eyes. Left one is good most the time, right one is iffy to nothing all the time." She shrugged. "Depends on the day of the week, what lesion is digging in and all sorts of neurological crap I won't bore you with."

"I guess you did need assistance, then, since the bottle was on your right and too high for you to reach."

"Listen, vamp." She spat out vamp as if it was a filthy word. "I don't need your assistance or anyone else's. Got it?"

She realized she sounded bitchy, but for some reason she hated to seem vulnerable to this man or anyone.

He dipped his head in a nod, his eyes never leaving hers.

"I understand. You may call me Dacon. 'Vamp' seems like a curse word coming from your mouth. That is, unless you intend to curse me every time you say my name." His voice was slightly accented and he spoke with an old school, formal cadence, as if English wasn't his first language.

He insulted her so prettily she had to fight back a smile. She felt guilty for being such a hard-ass.

"Okay, pay attention, Dacon." She waved her hand back and forth, as if to erase him with the flipping of her fingers. "I don't know why the hell you're here. I don't work with anyone but my own squad. So you can zip on back to your Coven and tell them you made contact, then left. I'm fine working with Byron. I know and trust him. I'm not interested in teaming up with anyone else."

"I'm afraid I will have to decline. Leaving is not an option." As he talked, he strolled around her apartment, scrutinizing her knickknacks as if they were alien objects. He looked up to take in the view of her huge painting of a lone white wolf and quietly contemplated the picture. His eyes narrowed, then he moved on.

At her fireplace, he stopped. His hand curved around her angel globe. He took it off her mantel, turning it upside down. The angel lit up. A grin curved his lips. He flipped it upright and music played as snow rained down on the angel. His smile grew. Like a kid at Christmas, he flipped the globe back and forth, the music turning on and off. He acted as if he had all day to play with her belongings. She wanted him out. He wasn't getting it.

She marched up, plucked the globe out of his hand, and replaced it on her mantel.

"Why can't you leave?"

"It's my duty to stay, not my choice. My position with my people requires me to protect them. And someone is murdering them." He wandered again, slowing in front of an imagegraph of her and her squad during their summer picnic.

As he studied her diverse crew, she stood straight, proud of everyone who worked under her. Her second in charge, Sie Knight, was baseball bat sleek, his short clipped beard and clean and tidy styled hair speaking of his intense attention to detail. Jackie Zink, affectionately called Jinx to those who knew and loved her, was a longhaired and long-legged blonde. Jinx wore the barest of outfits in the image, definitely not a bureau issued suit. Jinx was their secret weapon if they needed to distract a suspect; her striking looks came in handy. And Randy "the Ram" Thomas looked as though he should be bouncing unruly drunks from the local strip club. Posed as if he was going to lift Jinx up for a tumble, his tattooed, muscle-bound arms bulged.

Much to the annoyance of the FBI brass, Killian let the agents on her squad do anything they wanted. They had a ninety-five percent solve-through rate, the highest in the Bureau, allowing her to ignore the grumbles of disapproval and run her squad her way.

"Your clan?" He picked up the image frame.

"My squad."

He set the frame back down on the bookcase. "Dr. Gray—"

She rolled her eyes. "Just call me Killian," she snapped as she repositioned the imagegraph.

"Killian, I will be assisting you, whether you like it or not. I will not let the death of my people go unpunished. We will find out what happened, together." His eyes glowed. Gone was the light blue, in its place a fiery red.

Her breath hissed in. Now he looked more like a stereotypical vampire. Power simmered beneath his skin and appeared ready to jump at his command. His aura flared, reaching out and touching her. She flinched but didn't back away.

"I will find who killed your people and punish them."

"No, I will find who killed my people and punish them myself. The Sangerian Blood Coven Rules have been violated. It is my job to enforce these Rules and deal out punishment."

His mouth set, his jaw firm, his expression serious and unwavering. Great, all she needed was a vamp vigilante working with her. By the looks of him, she might as well resolve herself to the fact he'd be hanging around. Who knows, maybe together would be better.

When he stepped away and started roving again, she held back a groan and pointed to the couch. "Will you please sit down?"

He turned, gave her a formal bow and sank down.

"Of course. Certainly." Reaching to pull at his pants crease, he situated himself and crossed his legs. His manner was like he was taking tea with Queen Elizabeth of England.

"Nice place." Although his legs were still, his eyes traveled around her apartment. She could practically see the synapses pulsing in his mind as he assessed her belongings. Then his gaze touched on the exits and windows of the apartment. The action of a trained warrior, knowing his enemy and his surroundings, categorizing and analyzing, all escape routes memorized.

He reminded her of a wild lion, caged perhaps, and not happy or used to it. She crossed her arms.

His sarcasm about her space wasn't lost on her.

She shrugged. "It suits me."

"Would it be amenable to you, Killian, if we discussed the facts of the case?"

She glared at him, assessing what he was after. "I'm not going to get rid of you, am I?"

He ran a hand along the back of his neck. She saw the motion as the only crack in his calm demeanor. "Much to my own annoyance, I'm afraid not. You see, I am not—" he paused as if struggling to pick a phrase, "accustomed to working with humans." He spat out the word humans much like she had the word vamp. "But work together we must if we are to solve this crime."

She shook her head and moved to the kitchen to pour herself a healthy glass of wine. It's going to be a long night.

Chapter Four

Sangerian Coven Blood Rule number six hundred fifty-five: Release of blood lust is only allowed under certain circumstances; with a member of the Book of Select, Willing Donors, or in controlled situations detailed in the Sangerian Coven Blood Rules Descriptive Handbook, i.e., when mating and during mock battle.

Dacon sank into the olive drab overstuffed couch across from Killian and thought about his hostess. Pictures flashed into Dacon's brain, images he shouldn't be having. Killian was so vulnerable, weak, and she tried hard not to show it. With his vampire senses, he recognized the decline of her human body, the illness eating away at her life force.

Much to his disbelief, he was drawn to her, powerfully. The emotions confused him. Now he had a greater understanding how his brother had become so taken in.

Impossible. She was human, and he didn't like humans.

When she'd reached up and tried to grab that wine bottle, anger flared through him, pulling him to the heightened emotional level only battle usually brought. If she'd nudged it any farther with her fingers, the bottle would have fallen on her. Hurt her.

Without thinking of the consequences, he'd moved.

When he stepped up behind her, touched his body to hers, the contact triggered something deep down inside him. He rebelled against it, resisted her lure, tried not to lean and take in more of her scent. He'd failed miserably.

She smelled incredible. First the aroma of Sangerian roses struck him, then the pureness of her blood penetrated his consciousness. The need to feed on her hit him with an intense force. He clenched his fists together to stop himself from sinking his fangs in her neck.

Outside of the holo-simulator, he hadn't felt the natural urge to feed for nearly twenty years.

In addition to his injections of blood, he requested a feeding suppression element in his daily cocktail, which quieted violent blood hunger. The suppressant didn't seem to be working right now. Not with Killian.

His craving surpassed blood hunger, growing sexual. He pictured himself naked, standing at her back and sipping from her neck as he pinned her against the counter and took her.

God, he was getting aroused all over again.

Her voice forced him to stop reflecting and concentrate on the present.

"Wine?" She held up her glass.

"Yes, thank you. A glass would be nice." Anything to keep his mind off her, off the blood thirst, this craving. He needed an injection, and soon. Maybe the tech should add more of the suppression drug. He'd talk to him tomorrow.

She touched her way to him, a slight hand on the table, then the chair, obviously feeling her path. She lowered herself to the sofa and handed him the glass of red wine. It reminded him of blood, deep ruby, the color, the—

He downed it in one swallow. He was in trouble here.

She sipped from her glass, her tongue reaching out to taste her way, the pinkness probing the rim before she drank. His brother's words came back at him, sweet. He rotated his neck from side to side, attempting to relieve the uneasiness she was creating in him. The problem was his discomfort wasn't coming from his neck, but a place much lower.

He tried to find a fault in her, but she was strikingly beautiful. Straight, dark hair, glossy like Sangerian silk. The mass fell to her shoulders in a cascade of midnight, framing chocolate brown eyes. Her face was round, perfectly formed with a small nose. She had rosy cheeks that set off her contrasting light complexion. A black beauty mark above her lip touched off her face with a sensual flair.

Leaning closer, he yearned to study her longer, to read the detail of each line etched in her expression, to touch every crease...outline her red lips with his tongue—

He jerked back. He couldn't work with this woman. Even her smell hit him like a blow to his gut. Sangerian Rose _. How could she have the same fragrance as the most revered flower developed by my kind?_

Abruptly, he stood, strode to the kitchen and placed his glass in the sink so she wouldn't knock it off the surface and hurt herself. Leaning against the counter, he steadied himself. Where was this protective instinct coming from? He turned.

"Might we see the bodies of my brothers and sisters? I'd also like to study where you found them?" From her tensed back, he saw his question irritated her. Good. If she were annoyed, she'd keep her distance.

"I can see you're not the kind to relax, so sure." She pushed up from the sofa. Before she got to her feet, he was at her side, taking her glass from her hand, cupping her elbow to help her. She stiffened under his touch.

"What is it with you?" She shrugged off his hand to run her fingertips across the back of her dog as if reassuring herself of her guide's presence.

Good question, what was with him?

He strode into the kitchen, setting her glass in the sink next to his. When he returned to the other room, she had harnessed the dog and seemed ready to travel.

"What's your dog's name?"

She knelt and soothed a hand over the dog's head. "This is Wana, my guide dog and best friend."

"Wana has the appearance of a wolf." He ducked down to the dog's level.

She chuckled at his statement. "You think?"

"May I pet her?"

"Normally, I'd say no, but she's not working right now, so go ahead."

He stroked Wana, his hand skimming by Killian's.

Wana licked Killian's face. She smiled and rubbed her cheek against the wolf's.

He sensed their bond. Somehow he knew the tough Killian Gray didn't let many this close to her. A strange longing twisted deep down inside him.

His feelings were impossible. Everything about this situation, this woman, was at odds with his aversion to humans.

"You must forgive my assertiveness. Sangerians have an inborn protectiveness toward their women. A code to guard them."

"But I'm not your woman. So you can cut that crap out."

If she only knew what was going on in his head.

"Very true. Unfortunately, how do you humans say...'Old habits die hard'?"

She shook her head and stood. "Kill this one," she snapped and picked up a device attached to Wana.

"I will definitely try," he said, his voice rough with conviction. He was definitely going to have to speak with the lab tech. Control was of utmost importance to him. Caring produced weakness. Weakness led to death.

Killian Gray was physically frail and human. He would do well to remember this. He was here to do a job and needed to stay focused.

"Okay, I know a guy who will let us in the morgue. Let's go hit it. See what clues you can give me on those killings. First we can go by the crime scene." She made a tongue click noise and Wana moved forward.

Falling in behind her, Dacon couldn't help thinking he was way over his head with this one small human woman.

* * * * *

Dacon eyed the android sitting in the driver's side of Killian's vehicle. He disliked them as much as humans.

"I'll drive."

He reached into his pocket and tapped the opening device for his own vehicle parked in front of her building. The doors rotated up.

"Panera, huh, fastest turbo on the market." Killian unhooked Wana and gave her a hand signal. Without further prompting, the dog hopped into the back of the car.

Before she slid in, Killian ran her hand over the vehicle's silver lines. Dacon leaned his hip against the rear of the car and watched her. It was a top-of-the-line, turbo Panera RT-7 sports model, expensive as sin, and classy, yet sporty.

He rarely drove. The elaborate tunnels of the Sangerian Coven were covered with ZAT lifts, taking him from point A to B with ease and swiftness. But when the need to surface came up and he removed his car from storage, he reveled in the power purring under his fingertips.

"Nice car. Guess they pay vamp cops pretty well in your world."

Dacon questioned if she was purposely trying to make him angry and he briefly wondered why. Who was she, really?

Killian Gray's file was sketchy. For more than three years, she'd worked with the FBI specialized homicide unit. Her background prior to this was a blank. Before government work, it was as if she didn't exist.

Her file did say she had a Ph.D. in hematology and her incurable autoimmune blood disease gave her the ability to see vampires, picking them out from a normal human. That skill made it difficult for his people to lie low, keep their anonymity.

The treaty between their factions required vampires to disappear from earth. Thus, humans walked the surface, vampires burrowed below. The arrangement suited him fine, so much less to manage when all his people were in one place instead of spread out between the human surface and the catacombs below as they had been before the treaty was initiated.

"How do you distinguish vampires from humans?"

Her hand ceased moving and rested on the slick side panel of his vehicle. Despite the darkness of the night, he saw curiosity fill her features. She shifted toward him and he took a step to meet her. He felt an insane need to protect, to keep her safe from harm of any kind.

"I can sort of see this aura..." She raised her hand, as if asking permission to touch him.

He inclined his head. She picked up his hand and traced a pattern around it, running her fingers outside the outline of his. Her touch, her closeness, set his heart thumping and his incisors lengthening. Despite his attempt to stamp it down, blood lust snuck up on him.

"You have an almost white aura. It pulses." She glided her hand up the length of his arm, her fingers floating about an inch away from touching him. Her voice softened as she trailed her fingers to his shoulder and rested her hand on the silk of his coat. "This glow alerts me you're not human. Some have different colors. Haven't really figured out why. I assumed it is a sort of DNA signature."

He sucked in a slow breath and leaned forward. She studied his face, then reached up and brushed her finger over his cheek. He froze. He felt the burn all the way to his fingertips. His eyes dropped to half-mast. What would she do if he bent to kiss her? Sipped from the wine on her lips, then trailed his teeth to her pounding pulse, dipping in to taste her sweet blood?

"Yours is so much lighter than I've ever seen before." She cocked her head to the side, and silently contemplated him. Her thumb rested on his cheek, stroking as if she didn't know she was doing it.

He wanted to lean his face into her fingers, accept the heat of her touch, enjoy it. But he fought the desire. This was wrong, this attraction was wrong. What was he doing?

With an inward curse, he stood straight. She snatched back her fingers. The silence hung in the air between them.

He held out his hand. "It's low to the ground, allow me to assist you."

She opened her mouth as if she was going to protest.

He waited.

Her mouth closed and she placed her hand in his.

He guided her into the passenger seat.

She fumbled, obviously trying to find the belt. He reached up and settled his hand on the dash.

"Secure passenger, front and rear."

The car's harness wrapped around her body, snapping her into the seat. She murmured a curse and glared at him before turning her head to glance at Wana. Wana was strapped in as well, the car adjusting to the dog's body. The animal seemed unfazed.

"You could have warned me about that, Dacon."

He smiled. "I could have." He backed out and went around to the driver's side. Locking himself in, he closed the doors. The smooth snap of metal on metal affirmed they were secure.

"You don't need to drive anymore," she said. "The streets are programmed for autopilot."

"Really? That won't do at all. Address, please."

She rattled off an address. He inputted it into the DL, directional locator.

"Why won't that do at all?"

"Because I like to drive." He punched the manual accelerator and took off so fast that Killian's hands flew to the handholds. She squeaked in protest.

"Oh, great, an insane vamp." She loosened her hold.

Dacon cornered the high-powered car, enjoyment pulsing into his body.

"Yeah, isn't it scary?"

"Just get me there in one piece, please. I'm too young to die."

His mirth died the minute she dropped her sentence like a bomb. He didn't want to argue with her, but she was going to die, he could sense it in her blood. Soon, if her disease kept progressing at the rate it was going.

"Don't worry, I'll keep you as safe as I can."

And for some idiotic reason, he meant it.

* * * * *

The fog was rolling up as they arrived at the crime scene. The aged gray building stood surrounded by a thick, white mist, leaving an eerie reminder of what had occurred there. Killian allowed Dacon to assist her out of the car. After hooking Wana up, she unlocked the federal seal on the building and led him into the dark space.

Dacon halted in place. A shocking green glow climbed the walls, spread onto the floor, spattered onto the nearby equipment. It was everywhere.

"Let me find the lights," she said. She ran her hand along the wall until she located the touch pad. The electrical-synapse had been programmed for her and her team.

"The green shows the blood pattern. My technicians leave a residue in the DNA extraction process," she explained.

"I see." Dacon paced forward, his eyes wandering to and fro as he scrutinized the glow.

She tracked the details of the crime scene; it hadn't changed from a day ago. The only factor missing now were the dead bodies.

She pressed her thumb into the reader and the lights shimmered on, one by one, until they were at full. The luminosity disappeared, leaving a black deposit behind.

Dacon crouched down to study a particularly dark spot on the concrete floor.

"Here, this will help." Killian removed her P-9500 electronic device from her waist and tapped the screen. The gadget was all-around incredible as far as she was concerned; it handled everything from intra-office communication to her grocery list.

"Yes, Dr. Gray." The mechanical voice of her evidence assistant was immediate. She had AIGU linked to her 9500 when the holograph technology became available.

"AIGU, can you light up the holograph cameras from case number 43A-2567, the warehouse."

"Yes, Dr. Gray. Immediately."

Cameras on the ceiling flickered on, casting wavering images on the floor, which quickly came into to full focus. Fourteen bodies magically appeared.

"It's a three-D imagegraph. Our technicians set this system up on cases we'll be working long term."

"Startling accurate," he commented as he rose and strode toward the row of flesh. "Is this exactly the way you found the bodies?" His tone sharpened.

"Every piece of evidence is photographed in place before being removed and then cyber-reconstructed for this simulation. So yes, this is how we found everything."

A spine-chilling silence fell over the room as he studied the scene. She could tell he had discovered a clue and she wasn't going to let him keep it from her. Too bad fourteen of his people had been killed. He obviously took the murders very personally, but this was still her case and she wasn't taking second place on the investigation.

She walked over next to him. "What is it?"

As if he had forgotten she was there, his head snapped to the side and he made eye contact with her. She could see the fury simmering beneath the surface of his blue gaze. There was a tenseness in his body reminding her of a compressed turbo-spring.

"What did you find?" She set her hands on her hips. She wasn't backing down.

He shrugged. "It's nothing you would understand."

"Look, Dacon. It might be nothing to you, but this is still my case. So tell me." What is with him? He was an infuriating man to deal with. First he acted as if he was going to make a light snack of her and now he was freezing her out. What a jumble of personalities he was turning out to be.

He clenched his hand, then unfurled the fist he'd made. "This placement, the way the bodies are situated...it's ritual."

"What do you mean, ritual?"

"There's a group of people—Human Hunters—who have in the past preyed on vampires." He bent and reached out, running his hand along the projected cut-off head on one of the victims. "Those people pose their kills this way to taunt us. Remind us they could sever our life in an instant, that we aren't..." he inhaled, "indestructible."

Killian glanced back at the simulation. He was talking about the vampire hunters, her former people, but she'd never seen vampires placed in the manner he was talking about.

Why didn't she know about that?

Maybe the ritual placement of bodies was an act occurring after she left. She could never tolerate staying post-kill, most the time she was throwing up. Her mother scolded her about her absence, saying the handling of the bodies was as important as the kill. Killian didn't agree with her, on any level—about the killing—or the bodies.

"We've never had a very good relationship with this group of humans. We still don't." He furrowed his forehead.

She hated to think what he would say if she told him about her past, so she remained quiet. There would be a time to discuss her situation with him, probably sooner than she planned by the way the case was falling out. Eventually she would tell him, when the timing was right. If they were to form any kind of trust on this case, she'd need to share information as he had.

"So you think a hunter was involved in this?" She asked as she tried to shake off the memories of her training.

"Or someone trying to make it appear a hunter was involved." She tilted her head in acknowledgment. This entire crime stank. Even though most of her cases reeked, this one had a particularly nasty odor.

"Have you seen everything you need? I have all the physical evidence either in my office or at the lab if you want to examine it." She flicked open her 9500, preparing to close the program.

He straightened, took a final all-encompassing perusal of the room and gave a decisive nod.

"Okay, let's head to the morgue, then."

She turned to go, but caught her foot, causing her to trip. She wasn't quite so steady on her feet today. He was behind her in an instant, his hand cupping her elbow, his arm spreading across her back.

"Are you well?"

His question piqued her earlier defensive anger; she strained to hold it in. She tried to pull away from him, but he wouldn't let her. Wana backed into her legs, per her training. Her job was to stop Killian if she felt any type of disturbance. Her signal for stopping was to gently collide with Killian's legs. Dacon pressed his body closer to stabilize her. She shifted her foot under herself for balance.

"Of course, I'm fine. Okay. You guys are making a sandwich of me." She broke the tension she'd created with her own joke.

One inch at a time, he backed away and with the press of her knee, Wana moved forward.

"Very well. Shall we proceed?" She took note of his formal manner. Drama. Vampires and drama were married to each other.

"By all means," she drawled as he directed her to the car.

Chapter Five

Sangerian Coven Blood Rule number five: To murder another is punishable by death.

The morgue—Dacon cupped his hand over his nose from the smell; the stench of human death was atrocious. There was nothing worse. It had been a while since he had to take in so much of it at once, not since the war. His stomach flipped, then settled.

The lab technician reminded Dacon of his counterpart in the Sangerian lab. A pure geek, with short, spiky violet hair—yet his laboratory jacket was pristine white.

"Thanks for storing the bodies for me, Craig," Killian said.

"It's no problem. These bodies have strange teeth."

"Ah, yeah, they were part of one of those astro-cults, you know—dark side worshipers. Think they're some sort of vampires. File their teeth to a point. Weird."

The tech snorted a laugh.

Dacon didn't interfere with their banter as they walked down the stairs to an intensely lit corridor. The halls of the morgue took him back to the Sangerian tunnels. Efficient, wiped clean of adornment, they were made for functionality, not recreation. This was a place to hold death, not play. Dacon suppressed a shudder. Nothing good ever happened in the house of death as far as he was concerned. He'd been lucky...he hadn't had to grace the corridors of one for a long, long, time.

Craig led them into the back. With a swoosh of his badge, he opened a metal door, then guided them into a brightly lit room, lined with small silver doors.

"Yeah, I know the ones. They're real freaks."

Dacon involuntarily emitted a growl. Killian gave him a quick, silent stare that screamed "be quiet" before she slipped on a pair of dark glasses. He had a difficult time reading her expression with her eyes covered, making him feel at a disadvantage, out of control. This entire situation was frustrating. Having to work with this woman to find the killers of his people, the investigation plucked from his hands. He should be the one telling her what to do; instead he was trailing her like a Willing Donor in blood lust.

"Here you go. They're all on that side." Craig pointed to the right side of the doors. "Have fun. Messy stuff."

"All right, I'll take it from here."

"Sure thing. Jinx going to be helping on this one?"

"I think Jinx might be around."

"That's good."

Killian patted his shoulder. "Thanks, Craig. Go take your evening break."

"You got it, see you around."

"Jinx?" Dacon asked.

Killian quirked up a half smile as she reached for a metal handle on one of the doors. "He has a huge crush on Jinx, one of my squad members."

The snap of the door opening and hiss of air releasing penetrated the quiet of the lab. All business now, Killian pressed a button and a tray slid out with the body of one of his own.

Dacon placed his hands on the cold metal. "Troy," he whispered. He set his fingers on the clean end of his friend's severed head. Troy's body was naked, mangled, riddled with holes and ragged slashes. There was a gap between his head and neck. Dacon clenched his teeth together to keep from roaring out his rage.

"You know him?" The empathy in Killian's voice made him peer up at her.

"Yes, Troy Salion. I know everyone in my clan, much like you probably know your squad." He dropped his gaze back to Troy. How could this have happened? Troy was religious in following the Sangerian Rules. He would never have planned an unauthorized visit up top, not without Dacon's authorization.

"He was scheduled to be mated this fall. Charice, a wonderful girl. He was so young." He answered Killian's question absently as he wrapped his head around what the hell had brought Troy to the surface and who had executed him and thirteen others.

"Scheduled?"

"Sangerians plan their matings. There is much ceremony in a final lifelong joining."

"He was to be married?"

"If that's what you call it, yes, he was to be married."

Dacon ran his thumb along Troy's damaged side. He fingered the hole in his skin. Why hadn't he regenerated, healed from the cuts? Only one thing could do this. His fist clenched at the conclusion.

"Silver," he murmured.

Killian nodded. "Silver laser-guided exploding bullets were found in a couple of those holes. Stunned my techs. I only had them do forensics on this one. Figured your people might have a better idea about this than me. I was going to suggest to Byron you take them back to your lab."

"I will arrange for their transportation." Silver bullets. Very few people had access to that type of weaponry and he would find out who did. Somehow, he knew the hunters had to be involved in these murders. How could they not?

"That would be best. Don't you guys have regeneration ability?" She gestured at the cuts on Troy's left side.

How much could he really trust her? He kept the explanation minimal. Despite Roman's order to reveal all, he didn't want her involved too deep with his culture. "We do, to some extent. Injuries incurred with silver heal slower. With enough wounds, the subject would not have sufficient regenerative energy to heal. In the old days, he would have needed to be placed to ground, but now we have healing rooms. However, the severing of the head caused too much blood loss. There would be no hope. Fighting like this was outlawed over fifteen years ago."

"The vamp war treaty?"

His head snapped up and he searched her expression. With the dark glasses hiding her eyes, he couldn't make eye contact.

"What do you know if it?"

She reached up and removed her glasses. She squinted, her eyes watering.

"More than you think."

Dacon closed his eyes and shook his head. Here he thought he was the keeper of the facts and it sounded like Killian Gray held all the secrets. He held his annoyance in check and opened his eyes.

"What I think is...a more detailed discussion of this matter is in order. First, I'd like to get the bodies of my brothers and sisters back to where they belong."

"Sure, have your associates, who I assume can be discreet, come within the hour. I'll arrange it with Craig."

She placed her glasses back on and reached for Wana's harness. She hesitated and her voice softened. "I'm sorry about the loss of your people."

She and her dog left.

He laid his forehead on Troy's chest. He wanted to howl in anger, and rip apart whoever did this to his friend one limb at a time, making them suffer. Dacon felt the need to kill in a bad way.

"I will avenge you, my brother. This I promise."

* * * * *

Killian sat in Dacon's car and watched an unmarked vehicle as it drove away with what remained of his people. When the red backlights rounded the corner, she turned to Dacon. His strained expression told her how upset he was. He had myriad emotions—this man—and it was difficult to read him, but not about this.

She liked him. She shouldn't, but for some strange reason, she did. Her mother had tried to breed a deep hatred of vampires into her blood and she had never stopped rebelling. Never. With everything she was, Killian wouldn't give in to the vampire-hunter creed, so why was she even surprised she was attracted to Dacon?

She knew where they had to go...to see Chance and question the hunter's role in all of this. The thought of going there immediately made her head throb more than it already was. It was as if she returned there, her family would suck her right back in.

When had she decided she could no longer live with the Realm of Hunters? _Sixteen, I was sixteen, fifteen long years ago_. Her mother had trained and trained, pounded the principles of the slayer way of life into her upbringing. Killian never felt she belonged. It was that last daylight run...

"What do you know of the treaty?" Dacon's question brought her back. He didn't prelude his direct inquiry with chitchat.

Ignoring his query, she leaned over and punched a button on his directional locator, determined to fill the empty hole in the investigation. The one stop she'd been avoiding. "Direction, 520 Shoreline, No Fangs Allowed."

"Direction acknowledged. Confirm, Dacon Sangerian?"

His muffled grumble caused her to meet his glare. She raised a brow.

"Acknowledged." He gripped the wheel and hit the accelerator.

Her hands slapped onto the side panel handhold. Could this man ever drive slowly? Turning, she checked on Wana. The dog seemed as happy as she had ever seen her, jaws opened in an ecstatic canine smile. "I'll get you your answers, Dacon. Stay with me. We have an important stop to make first." She flipped open her Comm. "Blood Squad."

"Sie here."

"Sie, grab the squad, meet me at No Fangs Allowed."

"Did I hear you right, boss, you want to go to NFA? Haven't been there for a while."

"Yeah, meet me there. Come fully armed and vested."

"You got it. Catch ya in five."

"Sounds like a place I might not be welcomed," Dacon said as he took a sharp corner at a speed that left her sucking in a strained breath and digging her fingers into the handhold. The surrounding buildings flew by in a blur of glass and concrete as if they were on the turbo autobahn.

"I have a feeling none of us will be welcomed there."

They drove the remainder of the short trip in silence until they reached a thirty-story glass building swarming with people. Lines snaking into the street and the constant hum of vehicles screamed that this was the place to be. Neon lights flashed "No Fangs Allowed" in bright green letters, on and off like some damned, pesky insect. Dacon navigated around the back and shimmied into a spot only a few inches longer than the car.

"Are you going to tell me what's going on?" he demanded. "Where you're taking me?"

"I won't have to. It will be painfully obvious very shortly. Let's go. This time you stay here, girl."

Wana gave a whine, and settled down in the seat with a human-sounding grumble.

"I know, girl, but Dacon will cover me on this one. Okay?"

"Ruff."

Killian touched the door release and waited as it slid up. Dacon jumped out and jogged around the front of the car, coming up to her side. He placed his hands under her elbow and assisted her as she rose to her full height. That old-world breeding bled through again, always the considerate man. She could get accustomed to this. But would she get used to the man who came with the manners?

She stared up at him, his expression hard to read in the dim light. "I know it's asking a lot. Just go with me here and I think we can make some progress with the investigation."

"Fine." He wrapped her fingers over his arm as he escorted her to the entrance of the building.

It felt strangely intimate, walking with him like he was her Saturday night date, the flex of his forearm muscles hard under her hand. Another emotion welled up.

Safe. He made her feel safe. How odd.

"What is this place?"

"This is a very popular club. Caters mainly to the Goth and rich-kids crowd. We're going upstairs. Follow my lead."

A white, PV, piloted vehicle pulled up next to them. The driver rolled down the window. Sie's face was a welcome sight. Jinx was in the passenger seat. Killian's tight stomach muscles relaxed.

"Where do you want us, boss? Who's this?"

Killian jerked her thumb over her shoulder. "Around the back, make a spot. This is Dacon Sangerian. Dacon, meet Sie, Jinx, and I'm sure Randy is in there somewhere."

A bald head popped up between Sie and Jinx. "Right here, boss."

"Good, get parked, pronto. Follow us."

Sie rolled up his window as he screeched around the corner.

The thump, thump of music could be heard from outside the club. Various security personnel were filtering the long lines, letting in one person at a time. From a high-class shimmer dress to teenage anime rock-wear, the diversity of the clubbers made Killian's mouth curve up.

"Interesting place." Dacon's drawl was laced with sarcasm.

Killian squinted at a man in a trench coat exiting the club. A light aura shimmered around him. A wide-brimmed hat concealed his face, but before she could get a closer look, he ducked around the other corner of the building and out of her sight.

"Any reason why one of your own would be here?"

"Coming topside requires my approval. No one should be here."

"What about the fourteen people who were murdered?"

"They shouldn't have been up top. I'll investigate it when I return." His answer was short, as if it wasn't any of her business what his people were doing. She bristled.

"Hum, I could have sworn I just saw..." She frowned. Maybe she was getting too tired. It had been a long day and even longer night; and it wasn't over. Besides, sometimes in the evening her disease gave a false white glow around her vision.

"What did you see?" He angled in front of her, his gaze touching hers.

She shivered. He really was an incredibly handsome man. Too bad he was a vampire and they had a job to do. Otherwise she could see herself exploring every inch of him.

"Never mind." She waved her hand to dismiss it. "I'm tired."

Sie, Jinx and Randy ambled around the corner as if they were out for a Sunday night stroll, but this was no usual walk. They were all geared up with laser-proof armor and blasters slung over their shoulders. Jinx wore leather pants with laser knives strapped to her thighs; her blond curls piled high on her head. Jinx was a strange combination of brawn and beauty.

Randy was buff in a tight T-shirt emblazoned with "no sweat" and black battle fatigue pants. His combat gun was holstered directly below the reach of his right hand.

A baseball cap with a San Francisco Quakes logo covered Sie's tailored brown hair. Killian knew that in addition to the blaster at his waist, a backup pistol was holstered at his ankle. Sie never went out unless armed with at least two weapons. She liked that about him. None of their clothing contained the FBI identification brand. Unless she ordered them, they went stealth.

The Blood Squad flew under the L-radar. That's why their team was so strong; they completely trusted each other.

With a gesture, Killian directed them to accompany her. They strode toward the muscular doorman who directed the security officers working outside the club. He was obviously the man in charge.

The crowd parted for the advancing squad. Smart people. Who wanted to stand in the way of an arsenal like this?

As they reached the front door, five security men flanked them. The doorman stepped in front of her. When Dacon tried to push her behind him, she squeezed his arm and planted her feet.

"Tell Chance he has a visitor."

"Lady, no one gets in here unless they have an invitation. Especially armed." The man stalked forward and pushed his nose into her face.

Dacon immediately shoved him back. Two men rushed him. Killian lifted a hand in the air and flashed her gold FBI badge. The men stopped.

"I have a standing invitation. Tell him Killiana is here." It had been a long time since she had murmured her real name. The sense of dread she expected was sneaking into her consciousness. She hated this building...for her, it was a grisly symbol of the past. For the first sixteen years of her life, this structure had been her prison, until she escaped.

"Killiana." The doorman grabbed the arms of his men and hauled them back. "Stand down." He touched a communication device next to his ear. "Inform Chance Killiana wishes to see him." He nodded at something the person on the other end said, then gestured them to move forward.

Killian brought up her hand to shield her eyes against the flashing lights inside the club. The room was wall-to-wall people, dancing, kissing, and, as far as she was concerned, making idiots of themselves, their drive to mate overpowering common sense. The music throbbed and moaned. The air smelled of musk and passion.

Dacon shoved a path through the jostling bodies, pushing aside unsuspecting customers like they weighed no more than kittens. Another goon beckoned them forward. They followed him into an elevator. The metal door zipped closed, the clamor of the club scene silenced.

Killian thanked God and tried to settle her frayed nerves with calming breaths and mental affirmations. _They can't force me anymore. I'm an adult now. I control my own life. I'm a Federal Agent._ Sighing, she tried not to lean against Dacon. But as they all jostled into the elevator and he set an arm behind her waist to secure her, she didn't resist. His support was oddly comforting. Especially now.

She didn't want to be here, so she gritted her teeth and steeled her spine. A necessary evil. She would see Chance to close the case.

Seconds later, the squad stepped out on the uppermost floor. Four brawny men blocked them in a precision move that appeared choreographed. The biggest and ugliest pointed at her crew.

"Leave your weapons."

Randy clutched his blaster like a child would his favorite toy.

She shook her head at him, giving a silent message that she'd handle this and turned back to the head goon. "We don't give up our weapons."

Mr. Big and Ugly crossed his arms. "Then you don't see Chance."

Killian ignored the headache pounding behind her eyes. She'd love to curl up with Wana and a glass of red wine in the quiet of her loft right now. But that wasn't going to happen until she finished what she came for. She needed answers and Chance was the only one who had them.

"Go ahead," she said, "give them up."

No one questioned her. Keeping her gaze on Ugly, she heard the clunk of weapons hitting the floor.

Ugly waved a wand over Sie; it beeped.

"All of them." He showed as much emotion as a robot, but Killian guessed if Chance gave the word, he'd wipe them out in a nanosecond.

Sie swore and tugged a small semiautomatic pistol from his ankle. He laid it on the pile.

"I better see every one of these weapons when we're done," Killian said.

"You will." Ugly smirked, then swiveled and set his hand on a touch screen directly behind him. The door slid open silently, one inch at a time. The dramatic gesture reminded her of the timeless Wizard of Oz tale, the part when Dorothy met the Wiz behind the curtain for the first time. Killian expected theatrical music to begin next.

She shook off the notion and headed into the room. Dacon matched her steps, guiding her. The heat of his arm seeped into her skin, taking away her chills. Her team fell in behind them.

The office's dim light soothed her headache. The subtle blues of the interior were peaceful, even though several vid screens lining the walls displayed the rowdy activity of the club thirty stories below. A black lacquer desk dominated the posh office. The man behind it rose.

Chance hadn't changed, sandy blond hair, green eyes, very attractive by society standards. She held back the emotions flooding through her. He had filled out, taken on the muscles of a man. Tall and fit, he was no longer a boy.

Killian stood in front of the desk, her head high.

"Brother."

"Sister." Chance acknowledged her with a single nod.

The memories came flooding back, the final confrontation—separating sister from brother. Images flashed quickly, voices murmured, screams, blood. The recollections of that day were etched into her mind like solid stone. The scene played out in videograph style.

"This daylight run is critical to your training. How many times do I have to show you how to wear this weapon?"

Her mother, Adella Manning, always the Queen in the Realm of the Hunters, was in a state of high irritation at her daughter.

Adella was tall and muscular. On the outside she appeared unbreakable, but the fine sheen of perspiration covering her brow and the paleness of her face gave away the suffering from her disease. She had such high hopes for her daughter, of which Killian had no doubt she would fail, as she always did.

She waited as her mother showed her how to strap the razor-sharp laser sword to her back. She buckled down the scabbard, then tested the fit by pulling down hard on the leather. Killian locked her knees so she wouldn't slip to the ground in a heap from her push. At fourteen, she was a mere slip of a girl.

Her ten-year-old brother stood at attention next to her. His gear was already present and righted to optimum functionality. Her mother's teaching had not fallen on deaf ears with her brother. He was serious about the business of slaying vampires.

"Chance never has any problem with how to wear his gear," her mother said. She glanced at her brother. He gave her a smirk that spoke volumes...I'm the favorite, big sister. Get your act together.

"I don't want to do this." Killian tried to unbuckle the sword. Her mother's hands slapped onto her fingers and she squeezed to the point of pain.

"I never want to hear you talk like that again. We are hunters, Killiana. This is what we do. We kill vampires before they kill us. You will go on this training exercise or suffer the consequences." She seized Killian's arms and gave her a firm shake. "Do you understand me?"

Killian bit her lip and dropped her chin in assent. When her mother got like this, it scared her. Sometimes she wondered if her mother's disease was pushing her toward insanity. Adella had never elaborated on what "the consequences" would be, but Killian preferred not to find out. She had seen hunters who displease her disappear from the Realm, never to be seen again, with whispers they couldn't because they were permanently eliminated.

They made their way to a quiet suburban neighborhood and waited in the PV. The early morning hour assured their anonymity. No one was milling about at this time. The area was well wooded; each house had a sizeable lot spreading over at least an acre, maybe two. Another factor, her mother had said, that would guarantee privacy. The day was clear. The sun peeking over the horizon assured the vampires would be resting. They didn't like the sun and preferred to adjust their schedules so they slept during the day.

"Perfect. Follow me." Her mother shouldered a blaster as she shoved several silver knives into holsters at her sides. Two other adult hunters followed them out of the PV and trailed her mother toward the house. Her brother followed suit.

As they moved through the foliage, Adella signaled the group to halt. Fear eating at her brain, Killian knelt behind a nearby bush, her heart pounding so hard she could hear it in her ears, her sweaty palms making it difficult for her to hold her blaster.

Her mother and one of the hunters worked on the security until they gave the signal for the remaining group to move forward. Disabling the system, her mother had explained, would give the hunters the element of surprise.

They filed one by one toward the door. Her mother and the hunter used a silent blasting cap to open the door. It went crashing back and the group ran in. At that point, the mission became a blur for Killian.

Shots rang out as her mother and the two hunters systematically killed the vampire protectors, the Willing, the vampires called them—humans sworn by blood to protect the vampires. Then the group moved downstairs where the family would reside. The vampires were killed quickly by severing of heads. They barely had time to rise from their slumber before her mother was upon them. In the last room, the children lay.

"You two, come here."

Her mother was holding a vampire child by the hair and one of the other hunters had a second child. They couldn't be much older than her brother, maybe ten or eleven.

"Now, you do your part." Her mother stared pointedly at the children as they kicked and screamed.

Surely she doesn't want me to kill one of these kids?

"Mother. I can't."

"You can and you will," she shouted as she shook one of the children.

"I can't," Killian screamed, while bile backed up in her throat.

Her brother sauntered up beside her. With only two words, he drew the laser sword from his back. The weapon hummed and glowed. "Release them."

Her mother nodded to the other hunter, who released his catch. Her brother swirled—he was fast—and took the head of the first vampire in an instant; then the second, before she could blink. Killian could barely feel her body sinking to the ground as she dropped to her knees and wept.

"You will never be a true hunter," her brother challenged as he strolled past, knocking her to the side as he went. She curled in a ball, immobilized in disgust.

"I hope not," she yelled back, "I hope to God I'll never be like you."

Killian clenched her hand, digging in her fingers in an attempt to come back to the living. Only a few seconds had passed, but it seemed like a lifetime.

Dacon's arm tensed under her fingers. She sensed the rigidity of his body. She slowly removed her hand. What better time than now for him to learn about her past. There was no reason to keep it from him. If they were going to work together, they had to form some sort of trust.

"Been a long time." Chance sat back down, gesturing at the two chairs in front of the desk and the row of chairs against the wall. "Sit, before you fall."

She let the acid tenor in his tone go without comment. "Yes, it has." She eased onto the cushion of the plush lounger. Her squad scooted the chairs behind hers, planting themselves close. Gratitude for her silent protectors swelled up in her.

Dacon, ever-so slowly, settled on the edge of the seat next to hers. She felt his tension, like a tightly coiled snake, ready to jump her brother if he said the wrong word.

"What brings you to the Realm of my hunters, Killiana, after nearly fifteen years?"

Chapter Six

Sangerian Coven Blood Rule number two hundred seventy-five. Making contact with the Realm of Human Hunters is forbidden unless direct approval is received by the Chief of Security, and only in circumstances of extreme need.

Understanding dawned on Dacon _. Brother. Hunters_. If he wasn't mistaken, this was the leader of the Human Hunters, Chance Manning. They had never met in person; only talked on the Comm. Roman had been involved in the treaty negotiations when Chance's mother led the group. _His mother._

Dacon tilted his head toward Killian. That's why her past was such a mystery. She was the daughter of a hunter. She should hate vampires.

He should be angry, but he was curious instead. Why didn't she seem happy to see Chance?

"I'm here on a case," she said. "Why do you think?"

Chance shifted paper from one side of his desk to another. "Of course you are. God forbid you would actually come to see your brother."

"Chance—"

He held up a hand.

Dacon watched the byplay between the siblings. With his vampire senses, he felt Chance's unresolved pain as well as Killian's. And something more. Chance's disappointment for the estrangement and, deep down, a weakness for his sister he didn't want revealed.

She interlaced her fingers, clenched, unclenched—surely a nervous gesture. "This is Dacon Sangerian."

Chance's surprised expression flew to him. "You brought a vampire here?" He surged to his feet.

Killian's people stood, surrounding her and Dacon. Even without their weapons, Dacon could see they would defend her with their lives. He was unsure about her team before, but in that instant, he decided he liked them.

"I apologize for not sending a formal request per the treaty," Dacon said. "I was unaware we were coming here. You spoke with Roman—"

"Screw the treaty, Chance." Killian's voice was hard. "I'm here in the capacity of my job as an FBI agent. Who I bring with me doesn't matter. Sit down, everyone."

Killian's squad waited until Chance lowered himself to his chair before taking their seats.

"There are Rules, Killian, and they must be followed." Chance eyed Dacon, his challenge clear.

"I understand your concern, Mr. Manning. Had Killian told me where she was bringing me, I would have filed the appropriate paperwork. However, be at ease, I am the Chief of Security. Roman has spoken to you about the murders." He absolutely detested being civil to the hunters, but the Rules were explicit about professionalism.

"Yes. And as I told Roman, all our hunters are accounted for."

"Are you sure?" Killian asked.

Dacon watched her rub her temple. She'd pushed herself too hard; she needed rest.

"We can certainly continue this at another prearranged time—"

"We will not." Killian cut Dacon off.

"Killian, you are fatigued," he said.

She shot him a look that could have filed down his fangs. "I'm fine," she snapped.

"I'm telling you," Chance said, his irritated expression matching his sister's. "All my hunters are accounted for. Here, see for yourselves." He pulled an electronic organizer from the holder next to his computer, touched his finger to the screen and handed it to Dacon.

The scrolling spreadsheet of names meant nothing to Dacon. He raised an eyebrow at Chance, who sighed, leaned forward and pointed.

"Every night the hunters must check in. They use a chip injected into their hand, under their hunter tattoos. Neither can be duplicated. If removal is attempted, the chip is rendered inoperative. They must swipe it at any of the stations throughout the building. They all live here, so it's not an issue. They were all accounted for at the time of the murder."

"Can any of this information be tampered with?" Dacon handed the gadget back to Chance.

"No, the system is tied to my secure, high-res computer. It cannot be altered without alarming me. Even the best cyber hacker can't access our system."

"I'll need a copy of this report."

"Me too," Killian dittoed.

Chance glared at Dacon. "Absolutely not."

"I can get a warrant," Killian said.

His nostrils flared.

"I expect you to keep it confidential. If any of my hunter's names get out, I'll hold you personally responsible." He pivoted toward the computer and tapped a few keys. An electronic chip slid out of the duplicator.

Dacon held out his hand. Chance hesitated. Killian snarled and pushed her hand forward. Dacon flexed his fingers, then closed them. Chance dropped the chip in Killian's hand, his lips tightening.

"If there are any irregularities, she'll tell you. Don't you trust her?" Chance asked mockingly.

Dacon retracted his hand, sat back and studied at Chance...irritation nagged at him. Why should he expect anything less from a hunter?

"Why do you need hunters, anyway?" Killian pocketed the chip and picked at her nails. "Thought they were out of a job?"

Chance scowled. "Never know when a vampire killer might come in handy. It's like the military, Killiana. You don't disband your troops in times of non-war, you simply train them more, have them on standby. There's always an expectation here that the vampires will falter."

Dacon chuckled and rubbed his hand above his lip. Killian gawked at him as if he had lost his mind.

"I suggest, Mr. Sangerian," Chance said, his tone icy, "you look within your own. I've heard rumblings—"

Dacon's laugher ceased. "What rumblings?" He leaned forward. If anything were happening in the Coven, he would know. He was done playing games with Chance Manning.

"Unrest amongst your people."

"That's ridiculous."

"As I said, maybe you should question your own."

"I will handle my own, Mr. Manning. Why don't you just worry about your own."

Killian scooted to the edge of her chair. Dacon slid a glance at her, but she ignored him. He could see she was taking her physical endurance to the limit. Why wouldn't she acknowledge her weakness? "Chance, if I find out the hunters had anything to do with this, I will come for you. Have no doubt." Her voice was low, each word articulated.

Chance steepled his fingers under his chin and met her unwavering stare. "Come for me anytime. I'd love to have you over for dinner."

She snorted and stood.

"Mr. Sangerian is correct, sister, you need rest." Chance rose to his feet. "You should take better care of yourself. You don't look well. Please, take her home." He nodded at Dacon.

"Screw you," she said.

"Killiana." Chance's voice elevated. He moved around the desk and approached her. Shoving his hands into the pockets of his slacks, he seemed like a lost little boy. Dacon couldn't quite figure out what was going on between the two of them. She treated Chance like Dacon was expecting to be treated—as if Chance was the vampire. Disdain laced through their interactions.

"No longer call me by that name. It's Killian." Dacon could feel her loathing.

Chance inhaled as if he would protest, then he stopped.

He'd had enough. Dacon wrapped Killian's hand around his arm. He intertwined their fingers. For a moment, he enjoyed her touch. _What am I doing?_ He let go of her hand.

"Why must you keep this feud going?" Chance asked.

"I can't abide the life you live, you know this."

Chance shifted and shrugged. "I understand. I have always respected and accepted your choice to leave the Realm, and despite the fact I knew you lived as Killian Gray—"

"You knew?" Killian's mouth fell open.

Chance quickly continued as if he was afraid he'd never get the remaining dialog out. "Does that mean we can't associate at all? Ever?"

Killian's fingers tightened on Dacon's arm. "We'll talk about this another time."

Chance turned and sank back down behind his desk. "Fine." He pressed a button and the doors glided open.

They'd been dismissed.

It took a few minutes for everyone to rearm.

Sie wrapped his arm around Killian's shoulder as they descended in the elevator. "That was deep, boss."

Randy shook his head as he adjusted his leg holster. "You know all of us will keep this vampire shit quiet, but it sure is weird."

"Luckily, we don't have to work with very many of them," Killian said. Dacon silently acknowledged her comment with a single nod. It was helpful to have some more insight into Killian Gray's character. He admired the fact she'd obviously broken off from the hunters. Now he was intensely curious about why.

"Amen." Jinx rotated her head. The elevator stopped and they stepped out into the hall.

The noise assaulted Dacon. His nostrils flared as he sucked in calming breaths. With his above-human hearing, racket like this was beyond frustrating for him.

A few minutes later, they trailed onto the street, the noise from the club dimming to a muffled roar. Killian released his arm and walked toward their vehicles. She dug into her pocket. Producing the chip, she handed it to Sie.

"Run this through our contacts database, see what you find. Something strange came up in the vampire blood. I'm going to work on that tomorrow night. Randy, Jinx, get your own PV and follow Chance around for a couple days. See where he leads you. Despite what he says, I don't trust him."

They accepted their assignments without question. Hopping into their PV, the team waved and drove off.

"You have a good group. I admire them." Dacon assisted Killian into his car before he secured himself. "What kind of oddity did you find in the blood?"

"I don't know." Killian patted Wana's head, the dog nuzzling her neck from the backseat.

Dacon floored the car, smiling when Killian clutched the side handhold. Was there anything better than the speed of a fast vehicle?

"I'd like to coordinate with your lab techs." Her words erased his humor. "It was a marker not usually found in either of our blood, very strange."

In a couple of hours, the light of day would hit the horizon. Dacon didn't like the sun. It wasn't that he couldn't be out in it. The Coven lab techs worked wonders; vampires could now handle the sunlight. He just didn't like it. The warmth beating down on him made him crazy, heating his body to the point of pain, and the underground was a welcome escape.

"I'll drop you off and head back to the Coven. I'll get you in touch with our techs."

"Thanks. What about the unrest Chance mentioned?"

"I don't know." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Something else I need to investigate." In a long line of questions, he thought, but didn't voice.

He pulled up to the curb outside her home. Without her asking, he jumped out and assisted her, glad and slightly surprised she didn't fight him over the simple act of helping her from the car. _Such a stubborn woman_. Especially when it seemed she would collapse any minute.

Wana pattered behind Killian. She didn't leash the animal, she simply clung to Dacon's arm. He frowned. Her complexion was as pale as the white building. She laid her hand in a security cradle. The door opened.

"Why didn't you tell me you were the daughter of a vampire hunter? The leader of the Realm, no less?"

She shook her head as they walked to the stairs. "It's not a part of my life I like to talk about. I don't condone what they did, nor agree with their ways. I loathe that part of my life."

"Why?"

She stopped in front of the stairs, glancing up at them. He felt her reluctance to climb. She turned toward him.

"It's a long story, one I don't want to go into right now. Thanks for dropping me off. I'll be in touch."

Reaching down, he scooped her into his arms. She wasn't going to dismiss him that easy. She yelped.

"Hang onto my neck."

"Put me down."

"Hang on to my neck, dammit," he ordered. Their gazes clashed. He flashed her a message...he wasn't backing down.

Gradually, her arms came around his neck. The feel of her gave him pleasure, her petite body pressed against his chest. He liked her scent. Liked it too much.

"Go," he said to Wana. She vaulted up the stairs. He made his way up after her.

"This really isn't necessary."

"Uh huh. Did I tell you vampires sense deep human emotions...for example, dread?"

"I think I knew that." Her voice trailed off. She rested her head against his chest.

His hold on her tightened. She was a strong woman, clear about her feelings toward vampires. Although she didn't hunt his people, she didn't necessarily like them either. He couldn't see her leaning on him unless her weakened muscles couldn't hold up her head up any longer.

They reached the top. He opened the door and strode in to the front room. "Relax, Killian. I won't tell anyone." He laid her on the couch.

"Please don't." Her low voice was nearly inaudible. "I'd lose all my credibility, associating with, what do they say...the enemy of my enemy."

She closed her eyes. He knelt and watched her. Her arm twitched, she moaned. She settled down into what had to be an exhausted but not peaceful, slumber, her body periodically jerking.

"What's that other saying... The enemy of your enemy is your friend," he whispered.

He skimmed her dark bangs back from her face, fingering them, so velvety. The heat of her forehead burned into his hand. She leaned into the coolness of his touch, as if subconsciously soothing her slight fever. God, she was beautiful and fragile and...he withdrew his hand...human.

A shudder chilled him. How could he even consider desiring her? He loathed dealing with humans. They had killed so many of his loved ones. Would his slain niece and nephew understand his attraction to this woman?

He stood, sliding his hands into his pockets. What was it about her that stirred him so?

She shivered. Her body was eating itself alive, the disease inside her making her obviously sick beyond a cure. He leaned down and eased the blanket from the end of the couch over her body. She settled, her shivers abating. Turning to her side, she clutched the cloth to her cheek.

His watch beeped, reminding him dawn would creep up on him soon. He needed to get back. Driving in the daylight would be torture.

Odd to think that less than twelve hours ago, he didn't care one bit about Killian Gray. He'd joked to himself about how humans died young. Now he regretted his prejudgment. This courageous woman carried a strength that defied his beliefs of humans. He didn't want this one to die, because that's what was happening to her...very soon from what he could sense.

Another beep shook him out of his reflections. Wana climbed up next to Killian.

He stepped back from the couch, back from Killian, back from temptation.

"Take care of her, girl. I have some work to do in my own world."

* * * * *

The glint of the artificial lighting cast a sallow, yellow glare over the small room. The churn of the recirculated air was the only noise heard as he surveyed the serious faces staring back at him. All were eager, young and so easy to influence. There would be a time when these men would be his army, his key to the future in a world where only he set the Rules.

"After much planning," his announcement boomed over the space, "a key victory to our objective was achieved yesterday." Nods and hesitant smiles materialized. Fear of his power radiated back at him in every half-lowered face, every shoulder rounded forward. He lifted his head and made eye contact with each member. Ultimately, he would be the only one to wield control over this group...the true leader, as was his right by birth. Hate over his lesser circumstances burned a hole deep into his gut.

"This action will serve as the first step to our uprising, he paused and raised his voice, "and our freedom!" He punched his fist into the air.

"Freedom," echoed across the small room and he watched as his recruits thrust fists up, copying his claim to power and their ultimate goal.

"I commend you for this achievement and applaud our success. No longer will we adhere to the laws of this negotiated world. Very soon, our efforts will be rewarded and we will strike out on our own." He clapped his hands. Applause rippled outward.

"Our primary purpose now is recruitment. Continue your efforts on this matter. With that in mind, today we have a new member in our midst. One committed to our cause, he who has pledged his life to our mission. Stand up, John Ricker, and present yourself to your brothers and sisters."

John stood, appearing proud to suffer the pain of the induction ceremony.

"Come forward and kneel."

John made his way to the front of the group. Facing him, he dropped to one knee, bowing his head. The hilt of the sacred sword was cool in his hand as he drew it from its scabbard and extended it to the man. The embossed rose pattern in the steel caught the light as John reverently brought the tip to his lips, then extended his palm.

"This sword is the symbol of our clan." He sliced John's hand and watched as the blood cascaded down the blade and dripped onto the floor. "For the blood you shed today, you shall be rewarded."

John repeated the sentence and accepted the sword. Pivoting, he lifted the injector gun from the desk. John presented his other arm. He raised the gun to John's arm and shot a substance into the fleshy skin of his shoulder. He felt a certain amount of satisfaction when John flinched, sucked in a quick breath as the liquid surely burned into his veins, then shot the air out in a hiss. John was his now, made in his own reflection. He would be a good soldier and addition to the rebellion.

He retracted the gun, swabbed the injection site and waved John back to his chair. "Give the virus twenty four hours to penetrate your central nervous system, then report to me for tests. The conversion will be painful, you know what to expect." John placed a fist over his heart and bowed.

"Killian Gray's Team is a force to be reckoned with and we've left loose ends." Ryan Faller's quiet statement set off a bomb in his skull. He closed his eyes and pressed his finger to his temple. The side effects of the drug were getting worse. So bad at times that he thought the headaches would kill him. He was going to need another injection soon.

Growling, he swiped the sword directly out of John's hands. Quicker than any of his brethren could react, he held the instrument of death to Ryan's throat.

Ryan tried to jerk back, but he propelled a hand behind Ryan's neck to secure him against the blade.

"Fix the loose ends. That is your job as my First Lieutenant, is it not?"

"Yes, my lord." Ryan's eyes widened as he eyed the sparkling steel of the sword.

"Are we clear on our assignments?"

"Aye." He could visibly see Ryan's swallow as his throat briefly skimmed the sword and jerked back.

Slowly, he retracted the sword, cutting Ryan as he went. Ryan lifted a hand to the wound. The incision wouldn't kill, but it would remind him who wielded the power in their clan.

"Celia." He inclined his head to the beautiful lone female in their group. "Stay, if you will."

She indicated her agreement and remained in her seat.

"The rest of you—dismissed."

The group scrambled out of the room. He beckoned Celia forward with a crook of his finger. She stood and presented herself in front of him. She slid her long, silky black hair off her neck and glided forward into his arms. Celia was a woman he could enjoy all night long; her plentiful curves called to where he should start first. Maybe she could help ease the throbbing drumming in his head.

"Do you come to me willing?" he asked as he kissed the corner of her mouth.

"I always come to you willing, my lord," she purred as she took his kiss, her mouth trembling. He sighed and leaned into her, letting his body speak the words he didn't have the energy to voice. Yes, she was definitely easing the pain. He lifted her into his arms.

* * * * *

Killian opened her eyes, peered at the clock and groaned. Three p.m. already? She threw off the blanket and sat up. The disease had taken its toll on her last night. Too much, she did too much.

Rubbing her hand over her face, she tried to get her bearings. Her hands shook—hell, her whole body shook, nothing new. The norm was that she trembled all day long. Only the Neurontin soothed the shakes so she could function and it was getting harder every month.

She grabbed the bottle off the side table and downed three pills. There, in about twenty, things would settle. Had Dacon carried her upstairs and put her to bed?

Great, just great.

Nothing like showing your weakness.

That much she remembered before she about passed out. Too many nerve pills did that to a person.

Wana nudged her hand.

"Hey, girl, did you take yourself out?" Killian had rigged a sophisticated dog door into her security system activated by Wana's optic signature. She was particularly proud of it.

Wana did her usual "ruff", her "yes" in canine language.

"Good." Killian smoothed her hand over Wana's coat as she reviewed her day's activities. Complete initial tests in her downstairs lab. Then, when it grew dark, go to the office and check in with the squad.

Satisfied with her plan, she headed to the shower to wash the stink of the hunters off her. Seeing Chance last night had brought back memories she had worked so hard to suppress. The blood, the slaughter and the lack of mercy.

This was why she was so reluctant to meet with Chance in the first place and involve herself with this vampire business. Dredging up the past wasn't at the top of her priority list right now. When situations brought forth vampires or hunters, she couldn't seem to hold back those bad moments.

At a young age, Chance seemed to take pleasure in the putrid stench of the vampire-killing field. Murdering children in their sleep came easy to him, but not to her. Her refusal to go on the training missions meant nothing to her mother. She went because she had no choice and she relived every single raid her mother took her on... until she had the courage to end them.

That moment, when she changed her identity and disassociated herself with the Realm of the vampire hunters, was when she took back control of her life. She didn't want to end up like them. They murdered vampires with no remorse. She couldn't stomach a life like that, no matter what their rationalization. What kind of justice was killing based upon a historical principle?

It wasn't justice.

It was funny how her fresh journey in life had nudged her toward law enforcement. She'd come a long way. She wanted justice, yes she did, but not under the hunters' blind rules. For her, the facts were what gave fairness now and her authority was balanced and held in check by the truth. Nobody, should be able to have the absolute power over life and death...like the hunters had.

The cool water felt good. She ran her hands over her hair and let the chill seep into her. Lately, she'd been running a fever. She wasn't sure why. She needed to do some more tests on her own blood, see if she could figure out what was going on.

Within thirty minutes, she was downstairs in the lab.

Listening to the hum of her high-powered computerized microscope, she studied the vampires' blood. She processed both on-scene blood and the blood of the victims and found an irregularity, a type she'd never seen before. The victims' blood, categorized by her as blood type V for vampire, was all consistently the same. The other crimes scene blood had a strange marker for V blood. The platelet was missing fibrinogen, which meant their wounds would have a hard time clotting unless the person took extra calcium and potassium. At least, that was the case with humans lacking those characteristics.

She also found normal human blood, the rarest type, AB with Rh factor negative. Her eyes blurred and she rubbed them. She needed to talk to Dacon's techs about the vampire blood, see if any of his vampires had these blood abnormalities.

Refocusing, she went back to work.

Chapter Seven

S-Coven Daily Times

Announcement: Until further notice, at the order of the Chief of Security, Commander Sangerian, no visits up top to the human world will be authorized.

"How could a hunter know what's going on in the Sangerian Coven?" Roman asked.

Roman lounged on Dacon's couch. His blond hair was slicked back, his suit immaculate, his manner at ease as he drank a glass of red wine. Despite his polished appearance, Dacon saw his tension in the clenching of his jaw muscle.

"I don't know. Have you heard anything?"

"No. But it isn't unusual for them to install a spy in our midst amongst the Willing Donors. Check the recent additions to the Coven list." Dacon made a note in his PO, personal organizer. Made sense. The practice had been more prevalent during the war, but he wasn't leaving anything unchecked.

Roman placed his hands on his thighs and leaned forward. "I will release the news of the killings today. The bodies are already in the lab, I can't keep this quiet now."

"I understand." While Roman scowled, Dacon opened the kit that had been delivered to his apartment. He took out a gun and set the kit on the table next to his chair. A needle this large always stung. He winced as he shot his daily injection into his shoulder.

He slid his eyes closed as the familiar feeling of satisfied hunger rolled over him. It felt good to be fed. He'd told the tech to add the extra blood booster. See if it would suppress the strange urgings Killian brought forth in him.

"Why do you use that crap when you have other options?" Roman gestured sharply. "Many from the Book of Select Donors have voiced their dismay that you don't feed from the Willing."

"Let me guess, Tracy, Sharon—the women."

"Yes, many of the women. You know there's much more to feeding off them than blood."

"Right, blood and sex."

Roman shrugged. "They are willing."

"I can't stomach the entire ritual and I don't see how you can," Dacon said, a surge of anger making his voice harsh. What he didn't tell Roman was he did have cravings for sex and blood, but it wasn't from The Book of Select and Willing Donors. The longing came from one small woman who stirred him up like no other—Killian Gray. He covered his confusion with defensiveness. "How can you feed off those humans after what happened to your wife and children?"

Roman jumped up, his bearing stiff. "Don't talk to me about them. I do what I do because I need blood and I need sex. How you function without both at the same time is beyond me."

"Christ, Roman. I don't do without. I just choose my sexual encounters with my own kind and get my blood from the lab, as is our option."

"I can't explain the lure of these humans. I don't want to." Roman set his drink on the table with a click. "You need to find out what's going on down here. Bring Byron back in. See if he can help. He's good at ferreting out conspiracies."

"I'm going to have him pick up Killian Gray," Dacon said. "She needs to work with the techs. I'll bring him back at that time."

Roman made his way to the door, touching the screen. It hissed open.

Dacon dropped his head and let the regret wash over him. Why had he needled Roman about his family? He was trying to cover his own confusion over Killian and that wasn't right. "Roman."

He turned.

"I'm sorry I brought up Belinda."

Roman's expression softened and Dacon let out a soft sigh of relief. "It's okay."

"I will discover what's amiss. You know you can count on me."

With a nod, Roman exited the room. The door hissed closed behind him.

Dacon strolled to his inside garden. He touched the petal of a red rose, leaned forward and smelled it. It reminded him of Killian. Soft, fragile—and armed with thorns. He couldn't get her out of his head, and every time he tried, she pushed her way back in. He was on his way to a good old-fashioned crush on the woman. Straightening, he reached for his Comm.

"Byron."

"Yeah, boss."

"Pick up Dr. Gray tomorrow and bring her here. I'll notify her you're coming."

"You sure?"

Unused to his orders being questioned, Dacon held back his irritation, knowing his request was unusual. There'd never been a human in the Sangerian tunnels who wasn't in the Book of Willing Donors. Killian would be the first.

"I'm sure. I need you down here as well. We have some digging to do."

"You know how I love to dig."

Dacon heard the smile in Byron's voice. He disconnected, wishing he could smile too, but the memories of the bodies from last night festered in his mind.

The persons responsible were going to pay. Whether they happened to be human...or vampire.

* * * * *

Multiple motion greeted Dacon as he entered the Coven Laboratory. The pristine white walls of the facility blended with the people. "Good evening, Rurik." Dacon sidestepped two white-clad, lab-coated, appropriately gloved individuals who moved from one station to another, oblivious to his presence. Machines buzzed. Mechanical chimes sounded. Sophisticated equipment—he didn't even want to know how they worked or their purpose—spread throughout the room.

"It's good to see you." Rurik clasped his hand, the grip strong and sure. Rurik and he were practically brothers. They'd fought side by side in the war; he'd trusted Rurik with his life on many occasions.

"How are the autopsies going?"

"Good. I'm just doing some trace analysis right now. Do you have any news from up top?"

"Nothing significant." He eased onto the stool next to Rurik, who went back to his microscope. His friend was a focused individual, always intent on his purpose; the perfect personality to run the Sangerian Laboratory.

"Can I ask you a question?"

Rurik studied his sample, not bothering to look up. "Shoot."

"What exactly does our blood do to a human?"

"Without a full blood exchange, it would simply act as an immune booster—healing agent, if you will. Why do you ask?"

Darn, the one question he didn't want to hear. He tried to act casual.

"Uh," he rubbed his finger behind his ear, "something Byron said."

"Well," Rurik lifted his head from the microscope and glared at Dacon. "Tell him not to mess around with a human's blood like that. Without knowing the specific quantity of vampire blood ratio needed, he could make a mess...even knock the human unconscious. I mean, he's certainly not going to kill anyone, but he might create a bond he doesn't intend."

"Sure. I'll tell him."

Rurik went back to his microscope. "Sometimes your brother scares me. Can't believe he takes such a huge level of responsibility up top with such an I-don't-care attitude."

"Well, he is excellent at what he does. He could sell blood to a fully stocked blood bank, you have to give him that."

"Yeah, I'll give him that," Rurik said under his breath. "I'll let you know the minute I find something here. I have ten more bodies to process."

"Sure," Dacon took the not-so-subtle hint and knocked his knuckles on the table. "Thanks. Talk to you later."

Rurik didn't answer as he adjusted a knob on the microscope and went back to his work.

Dacon slid off the stool and made his way out of the lab.

Great. Now I'm even more baffled.

.

* * * * *

"What do you have?" Killian asked. She released Wana's harness and faced her squad. It was near two in the morning. The office was located on the thirteen floor of the Federal Building, which was normally considered bad luck. A kind of joke with her squad; sometimes the Feds did have a sense of humor.

The windows overlooked the streets of Oakland. Even at this hour, the city didn't sleep, turbo cars glided back and forth between the lanes of traffic. Now was the time when the criminal element came alive to start their evening.

Her people looked harried, she could see their fatigue even with only one good eye. They were used to late nights, but they hadn't slept since yesterday.

"When I compared the hunters' list to our contact database, I came up with several names." Sie faced his laser pointer to the wall where the computer projected his information. He illuminated the red light to a list of about a dozen names.

"At one time or another, all of these hunters have had contact with law enforcement."

"Do we have DNA and blood on file for all of them?" Killian searched the list for any names she recognized.

"Yep, thank you, Terrorism Act. I love that little law. Makes it awfully convenient to make a match."

"Great. Can you transfer the profiles to my handheld?" She tossed her P-9500 at him.

"You bet." He sat down at the desktop unit and plugged her organizer into the computer.

"We followed Chance last night and most of today," Jinx said. "He went to some interesting places, but nothing out of the ordinary. We logged every stop and noted our observations in case we can piece it together with another clue. We also placed a Raz tracker on his vehicle. It's uploading locations to the satellite every ninety seconds." Jinx brought up their data stream. A three-dimensional map popped over the data and rotated around. Yellow lights blinked on the locations where Chance had stopped.

"Okay, transfer that too."

"Yep," Sie said, his computer keys clicking at top speed.

"I'm going to check in with the vampire lab to go over some of this blood work, the trace and DNA evidence. I might be underground for a few days."

"Weird." Randy shook his head.

She suppressed a shiver, even saying it gave her the creeps going "underground". "Sie, I want you to pick up a couple of these hunters and see what they're up to. Randy and Jinx, stay on Chance and review all the witness interviews again from the crime scene. Maybe something will stand out to give Sie a direction with the hunters. I can't help but think they were involved in this."

"Sounds good." Sie extracted her 9500 and handed to her. "You're all set."

"Thanks. Okay, guys, hit the street."

Sie slid on his leather jacket. He hung behind as Randy and Jinx headed out.

"Killian, you okay?" He traced the dark circles under her eyes, his expression concerned.

"As good as I can be." She gave a smile she didn't feel inside. "I'll be okay. You know me, tough as nacrilian."

"Take it easy, okay? I don't like you going underground alone."

He wasn't the only one, but she didn't want him to know that. "I'll contact you if I need anything."

"Okay." He rubbed her shoulder. "I'm always there for you." His hand dropped and he stepped back. "I'm out. Call if you need me."

"Be careful. Those hunters are deadly." Sie was always her constant protector. Like the brother she wanted Chance to be.

"So are the vamps. You'll be surrounded by them." He gave her a hard look before he strode away.

She hugged her arms around her chest.

"I know," she whispered. "I know."

* * * * *

The insistent chime of the Comm cut off Killian's analytical process. Never a dull moment. Killian grabbed her desk extension and clicked a button on her computer to stop the transcription device.

"Gray here."

"How are you feeling today, Dr. Gray?" Killian grinned as she identified the deep timbre of Dacon's sexy voice. What is it about this man that stirs me so deeply? She propped her feet on the desk and tilted back in her chair. She hadn't quite made her way home yet. Anytime she ended up in the office for more than a couple hours, she was invariably sucked into miles of overdue paperwork.

"I feel fine, Mr. Sangerian, and how are you feeling?"

"I'm very well. Thank you. How long have you been ill?" His question caught her off guard. There was no anger there, no accusation, just a quiet reassurance she could trust him with any answer she gave. The notion unnerved her.

"Oh gosh, hard to say, it's come little by little these past few years."

"Have you tried human medicine?"

"Tried it, no cure. But that's not why you called me, was it, to reminisce about my health?"

His personal attentiveness was making her head fill with more questions than answers. _Why is he calling me?_

"How is the investigation going? She could hear a creak like he was leaning back in a chair.

Now the investigation was middle ground, a little easier to talk about than her wellbeing. "It's going well."

"Can I ask you to share your findings?"

"You can ask." She picked up a pencil from her desk and began spinning it in her fingers. Should she make gathering information for him easy? The little devil on her shoulder was telling her to play hardball, while the angel was whispering to give him whatever he wanted. The conflicting emotions were making the back of her eyeballs hurt.

"But you won't tell me. Do you distrust me, Killian, because I'm a vampire?" She didn't miss his change of address to her first name instead of her title.

"I don't know you well enough to trust you one way or another. With the exception of my superiors, I don't make it a habit of sharing ongoing investigations outside my team."

"You didn't answer my question."

Switching the pencil to the other hand, she kept her answer short. "I don't...I don't make judgments on whether or not I trust someone because of who they are or aren't. Especially if I don't personally know them."

"But you were raised not to trust vampires."

"True, but as you witnessed, I no longer live that life."

"Why?"

Leaning forward, she doodled on her desk paper pad, drawing one circle after another. She was having a difficult time keeping her honest opinion from him. He was really easy to talk to, no judgment in his tone, only blatant curiosity. He was making her crazy with his alpha-male chivalry. What the hell. She took the leap. "Because I don't believe eliminating a race of people because they are different, was or is right. In the thirteenth century, King Edward eradicated all the wolves because he felt they were pests and threatened the country's livestock. I fundamentally believe killing wolves was wrong, just as I felt the war was wrong. To this day, there are no wolves in Scotland or England and too much livestock. They actually run lotteries to kill goats and deer. On the other hand, wolves are extinct on three continents and endangered on every other. So who won?"

"We were at war because your people felt threatened by ours and England killed the wolves because they felt threatened by a superior hunter." His statement was easy going, nonjudgmental, factual, as if he was telling her today's temperature.

"No, Dacon, what my people teach is we were at war because your people felt threatened by ours, that you hunted us."

"Ahh, I see. So this is what you've been told?"

"Well, you did live on our blood. And I wouldn't be honest if I didn't tell you that fact is somewhat intimidating. Even to a confirmed ex-hunter—like me. You're a bit...intense."

"Yes, we did. We did not, however, kill your people to take their blood. Feeding was not meant to harm anyone. As far as being...intense, I'm not the only person who can claim this title."

Okay, now that was too much. "Are you calling me intense?" She could hear his chuckle at the other end of the Comm. She had never flirted with a man the way she was with him. She tapped her pencil on the paper. "So, are you saying, Dacon, that the hunters started this war?"

"I'm saying, Killian, you should listen to both sides before you make an assessment one way of another. Tell me about your life as a hunter."

Wana placed her paw on Killian's thigh, reminding her she was there. Sighing, Killian dropped her pencil and lightly stroked Wana's head. "Life was disciplined and strenuous. All I can remember is the spilled blood of your people in my nightmares, the screams of the dying and a war that never seemed to end—until I made it. Is that what you want to hear? Are we bonded now?" Talking about that part of her life didn't bring the fondest memories. About now, he should be feeling the sting of asking.

He cleared his throat. "I oftentimes have those nightmares too, so yeah, I guess we're bonded. I'm sorry."

She dropped her feet off the desk. "Don't be sorry. I didn't mean to sound so harsh."

"You have good reason to be cynical of my kind."

"As you do mine."

"Yet we still have a murder to solve—together."

"I guess so." She reached over and shut off her computer. Obviously she wasn't going to get any further work done.

"I'll send Byron to pick you up tomorrow. When you arrive, may we share information on the case?"

"I'll see what I can do."

"You sound tired." His voice dropped an octave, slow and smooth—soothing. She tried to break the spell he was weaving, but her heart wasn't quite in it.

"Aren't we all?"

"Take care. See you soon." He rang off. She disconnected the line and waited as her computer went through the shut down procedure. Dacon Sangerian was one dangerous man to chat with.

* * * * *

Dacon disconnected the Comm from his conversation with Killian and sank into the cream-colored chair of his office. The supple leather conformed around his body, creating the optimum comfort level. The light oak paneling and intense fluorescent spot orbs of his space brightened the room. He tended to be less dramatic than his brother, trying to break from the stereotypical vampire the humans habitually labeled his kind.

Every time he talked to Killian, he liked her more and more. Her honest candor was refreshing and her obvious suffering at the hands of the hunters enlightening. He shouldn't care for her, but she touched him against his will with her deep down vulnerability and her strength. Whenever they shared, learned about each other—his protective instincts kicked into to full alert.

He hadn't really needed to call her, but he had wanted to. Wanted to hear her voice. The fact he was going to see her in less than twenty-four hours was good news. He ran a hand through his hair and tried to focus on the report he was reading.

She's a dangerous woman to get stuck in my head.

Chapter Eight

Sangerian Coven visitor etiquette. All visitors to the Coven will be treated with the utmost respect and escorted by their sponsor at all times.

Killian lifted her head. What was that noise? Sounded like a Class A jet landing on her roof.

She set aside her glass of wine and the vid-report she was skimming. The high-pitched sound died down.

Growling, Wana jumped off the couch and started her repeated barking pattern, her version of an intruder alert. Killian drew her auto-blaster. She slowly made her way toward the door.

"Hey, Killian," a voice called. "Hey, Wana."

Wana stopped barking and made a circle, doing her "happy dance". Killian chuckled and slid her weapon back into the holster.

"Byron, I guess I need a better security system. You vampires seem to make your way through unnoticed."

He grinned and she could see why the women sighed over him. He had the face of royalty and a body of sin. Long brown hair with blond highlights brushed his shoulders. He tucked the mass behind his ear. A sensual habit that made her smile. He wore black jeans and a skintight white T-shirt with a black leather jacket, the look completed with black combat boots. Simple and sexy, he walked the line between vampires and humans with projected ease.

"I'm here to act as your chauffer, my lady." He bowed.

Killian pointed to the couch. "Have a seat. Let me get together a few things." She threw him the satellite vid remote. "Entertain yourself."

He began punching numbers into the remote. Every ten seconds, the vid switched to a new station. She laughed and headed to her bedroom. Give a man a vid remote and he could occupy himself for hours, even if he was a vampire.

* * * * *

"I thought I heard a jet." Killian eyed the sleek, silver structure parked on the old warehouse's flat rooftop.

"Class A, Falen powered helo-jet." Byron boosted her, then Wana, up into the plane.

"Subtle, Byron."

He threw up his hands. "Nothing but the best for my girl."

Killian rolled her eyes. Byron always called her that. No respect.

"Okay, smart-ass. Let's go before you alert the FAA to this illegal flight and we have a squadron of F-211's hot-tailing it after us."

"I'm going under the light-R. Don't worry, that new radar can't catch me. We'll be there in a matter of minutes."

"Great, another speed demon." Killian settled back against the seat. What was it with the Sangerian men and speed?

He was correct. In less than fifteen minutes, they hovered over a huge orchard in Central California.

"Wow, I didn't even know this much land existed in California anymore."

"All ours. Purchased in the early nineteen hundreds and a working farm since. Now we grow organics, a very lucrative market. People don't want to eat synthetics anymore. The human word is that the hormone injections alone are killing them."

"This land must be worth a fortune." She was amazed. As far as her eye could see, green stretched out over what appeared to be a very fertile farm.

"Yep, and we're not selling."

He glided the jet straight inside a large metal building situated next to a modern agro-house. Below them, the concrete pad shifted. Killian grabbed the edge of her seat as the plane lowered straight into the ground. With an ominous clang, the skylight closed, lights flickering on.

"Wow. Nice flying."

"I aim to please. Certified in twenty different jets. I trained to hit my mark." Byron always amazed her. He had the energy level and appearance of a twenty-year-old, but she knew his actual age had to be quite a bit older. No twenty-year-old would be certified to fly multiple jets.

"So this is how you keep the entrance to the Coven undetected?" Killian climbed out of the jet and hooked Wana up to her harness. She glanced around and all she saw was a flight pad in a room with a single metal door.

Byron was already walking. They followed him.

"This and about fifty million other security procedures Dacon implemented."

"Ahh, so Dacon leads all of your security?" To think she thought he was a lowly vamp-cop. She should have known better. He carried an unmistakable aura of authority with him.

Byron leaned his forehead against a device. A light scan beeped, recognizing his optical signature. A hand cradle slid out. He laid his palm in it.

"Coven confirms G-profile and optical for Sangerian, Byron. State verbal voice cross, Byron," a computerized-simulated female voice ordered.

"Byron Sangerian and guest, Gray, Killian, with canine companion, Wana."

"Sangerian, Byron and Gray, Killian, Wana, confirmed. Welcome home." The doors slid open.

Byron placed his hand into the small of Killian's back and escorted her through the open doors to a metal-walled dimly lit tunnel.

"Yes, Dacon is our Chief of Security. Has been since before I was born."

"Just how old is he?" Ah, maybe she could get ages here. Curiosity was getting the better of her.

Byron stopped at another door as they repeated the same procedure.

"Revealing Dacon's age would be considered rude in vampire etiquette."

"I see." She didn't. Who cared about vampire etiquette? "Forget I asked." She'd ask Dacon directly.

They traveled through a series of rounded tunnels. The area opened up, the ceiling much taller than the tunnels, reminding her of an old-fashioned subway station.

"This is a ZAT lift. It will take us to Dacon's quarters, located in the center of town."

"Let me guess. It goes really fast?"

He laughed. She sucked in a slow breath and followed Wana on board. Hoping her stomach would hold up to all this speed, she clutched the sidebar. She was starting to understand one thing...vampires liked speed.

* * * * *

Dacon waited at the ZAT station, striding from one column to the next, back and forth. For the past twenty minutes, the station had been quiet, only a few passengers loading on and off the ZATs. Impatience wasn't usually in his vocabulary, but it pounded at him now. He wanted to see Killian again, feel her petite hand attached to his arm and take in her rose scent.

God, he was going crazy.

This attraction was insane. Nonetheless, it was there. Strong, unspoken, it hammered at his consciousness every minute of the day. He missed her. He actually craved her company. What had it been, only forty-eight hour since he left her, twenty-four since he talked to her? He scrubbed a hand over his brow. She had no idea what he had planned for her, the dangerous decision he mulled over while fingering that rose. She would kill him if she found out, so he was going to ensure she didn't.

Shit.

"ZAT lift 35 approaching the station. Please stand back from the platform. ZAT lift 35 approaching the station. Please stand back from the platform." The voice was pleasant, professional, calm; emotions Dacon didn't feel.

His steps slowed and he took a cleansing breath. Wouldn't do to show his unease. The command in this world was his...he needed to pull it together.

The ZAT lift flew into the station and gently coasted to a halt. Bold, black lettering stamped ZAT 35 on the side of the car. His heart picked up a few beats. He saw her through the window hanging onto the side rail, her face sporting that charming, annoyed expression he was coming to know. The pain of her disease lurked behind her pasty white skin, reinforcing his resolve to help her.

The door slid open. Byron followed her and Wana out, his hand barely touching the small of Killian's back.

A wild-hot need to kill blinded Dacon. His lip peeled back, his low-lidded stare challenged Byron. A growl came from so deep in his throat it could barely be heard.

Byron paused in stride, his gaze snapping to Dacon's face. He kept going, barely missing a footstep, but his hand lifted from Killian's back.

"Here we go, all safe and sound." He handed Killian over to Dacon as if he was offering a gift to the deities. Then he took a step back and regarded Dacon as if he was an alien.

Dacon tried to clear his vision. He was seeing crimson and it wasn't a pleasant sensation. He cracked his knuckles, evened out his breathing and refocused his attention on the small woman in front of him.

Her brow furrowed in puzzlement. He gave her a reassuring smile even though his blood still simmered with possessive anger.

"Glad you made it here in one piece."

"One piece is debatable. I could use a ride with less speed in the next ten hours or so."

"I think I can accommodate that request." He squatted down to greet Wana. "And how are you, my friend?" He unhooked her harness. As long as Killian was in his world, she would not need to rely on Wana. "How about you take the day off, girl?"

He slid Killian a glance. "Would that be all right with you?"

Killian ran her hand over Wana's head. "Sure, she deserves a break."

He stood and offered his arm. "Come." She curled her fingers around his forearm and walked with him. Immediately, his body hardened and his mind quieted. Killing Byron for touching Killian...the notion faded away.

"Okay, I'll just go get...there was a lot of lab stuff, had to leave it in the jet..." Byron's voice trailed off to nothing.

Dacon barely acknowledged him as he led Killian off. The screeching departure of the ZAT lift was his only indication Byron had left.

"Let me show you my world," he said.

"I would be honored."

* * * * *

Much like he did the first meeting in her loft, Killian prowled his apartment, picking up knickknacks, feeling them with her hands and bringing them close to her face.

He handed her a glass of red wine, a blend made by his own hand and very special. It carried a healing element in the form of his blood. Tomorrow she would never question why she felt better. And tonight she might enjoy a few minutes without pain. His blood would give her an undetectable buzz, similar to a slight crazik high. She wouldn't even notice.

He felt a small amount of remorse at breaking his own rules, but what would it hurt? Besides, he needed her healthy for the case, this is what he ran through his mind over and over; rationalized his decision of yesterday when he touched that rose.

She accepted the glass, tasting as she absently picked up an imagegraph of two small children with a woman.

"Children? You have a wife?"

"No, Roman's children, my niece and nephew. That was his wife."

"Was?"

"They were slaughtered in the war."

"Slaughtered..." Her voice wobbled, her expression haunted, her eyes seemed to gaze inward and at the same time faraway.

"Yes, killed in what the hunters called a daylight run. Along with many of my family."

She held up her hand. "I know what a daylight run is. Please don't," she took a gulp of her wine, "don't continue."

He nodded, his lips together.

"I know it seems inadequate to say, but I'm so sorry." She replaced the imagegraph.

He remained silent.

She strolled, touching his personal belongings, a picture of Italy, a stone from the Grecian ruins. She peered at a podium holding a book older than he could remember, older than his time. Glass covered it, protecting it from wear.

"What's this? It's old."

" _The Sangerian Coven Blood Book of Rules."_

"So this is your law book?" She ran her finger over the glass.

"The one I abide by."

"And you enforce the rules from this book? Kind of like the Police Chief of our force?"

"Absolutely, that's my job. Commander Sangerian."

"How many of the rules have you broken?"

He ran a hand over the back of his neck then answered, "None." He was lying. Technically, he was breaking a rule right now by giving an unwilling his blood.

"These other books?" She gestured at two books stacked on a table next to the podium. He didn't keep them under glass because he was always updating and adding addendums to them.

" _The Book of Willing and Select Donors. The Descriptive Handbook."_

"Thick books. So you're the keeper of the books, huh? You must be busy."

He nodded. Her casual comment showed she had no idea the responsibility these books held for their society.

Moving into his alcove, she fingered one of his roses.

"Beautiful indoor atrium you have here."

"Sangerian roses."

"They're stunning. This one is such a rich shade of red." She inhaled. "Wonderful."

He liked her this way, at ease, comfortable.

She took another swallow of wine, nearly emptying the glass.

"This wine is really good."

"Our own brand. We planted grapes in a small section of the orchard." He held up the bottle. "More?"

"Please."

He refilled. She wandered.

He set the bottle on the coffee table and sank down on the leather couch to watch her closely. He wanted to make sure she was going to be okay.

"How does one become a vampire, exactly?"

"Birth or human conversion."

"What does it take to convert a human?"

He crossed his legs and leaned back into the sofa. It felt right to have her in his world. For the past forty-eight hours, he had been wound up as tight as a Sangerian spin-toy contemplating his decision. Now he could relax.

"Conversions must have my and the Council's approval. The human must be from the Book of Select Donors and they must be of the Willing."

"And if they aren't?"

"Death to the vampire who converts, per the Rules."

She let out a slow whistle as she eased down next to him.

"Why would anyone want to be converted?"

He held back his annoyance at her question. She didn't understand, but she'd get a taste soon.

"The lure of our race is difficult to explain. Heightened senses, additional physical strength, lengthened life span, extra healing abilities. Some convert for a lifelong mate, many reasons."

She waved her hand. "Not for me, no thanks. You couldn't pay me to be a vampire. I like my flawed human existence. Can't imagine having to rely on drinking blood to live. Wouldn't want my life controlled like that."

Dacon leaned close. "The conversion process is very pleasant. I think you would enjoy it."

"Humm. Exactly what are we talking about here?" Her voice slurred slightly as his blood pulsed into her system.

Dacon tucked her dark hair behind her ear and caressed her jaw. "The vampire and human must exchange blood, as many times as they want or just once. It's up to them. The human has to have their vampire's blood in their body in order to convert. Eventually the human will be drained by the same vampire."

"Drained?" She swallowed deeply. He followed the action with his fingers, touching her throat.

"Basically, the human must die, to be reborn a vampire."

"Okay, so you can't, let's say, bite me, take my blood and make me a vampire."

He chuckled and retrieved the wine bottle. Refilling her glass, he watched as she brought it up to her mouth and swallowed more of his blood. His heart sped, his body waking to their connection. She was so beautiful.

"I'd need to drain you of every last drop of blood to make you truly mine."

She shivered. "I really like this wine." Her eyes dropped to half-mast.

"I picked it out especially for you."

She reached up and stroked his cheek. "You are such a sweet man, Dacon Sangerian."

He shook his head. "If you only knew the things I have done in my life, you would never call me sweet."

This was a pleasant surprise. He never expected her to get this aggressive. He wasn't a saint, he'd take what she offered. Her touch felt exquisite, better than the finest Sangerian silk against the naked skin. He'd been waiting for it, wanting it, not sure if he would ever really feel it the way he dreamed of. In the morning, she would barely remember this conversation. Usually his ethics restricted him from taking advantage of a human. He really didn't care about ethics right now. He wanted this time with her, when his blood mingled with hers.

"So handsome." Her hand traveled, her thumb stroked his neck and the pounding pulse there. She pushed aside his shirt, her hand sliding under and along his collarbone.

His head dropped back against the couch, his senses in tune to her. He absorbed her pleasure as his own. His blood had formed a bond between them, heightening his arousal, making them one. This must be what Roman had been talking about. Dacon had never contemplated turning anyone before, so his blood had not touched a human. This was heady, alluring, sinking him down, pulling him into a whirlpool of emotions. He wasn't thinking with his brain anymore, but other body parts.

She continued to explore as far as his buttoned shirt would allow her. He reached out and flicked open his buttons until his shirt was fully parted for her seeking hands. She ran her fingers over his chest, his pecs, then his ribs. She was smiling, her expression dreamy. She tried to push his shirt off his shoulders, but the couch stopped her. He leaned forward and let the shirt drop behind him.

"A rose," she slid her finger over the tattoo on his right shoulder.

"A Sangerian rose. Reminds me of my heritage."

"My God, you're so hard, feel so good. Love touching you."

Closing her eyes, she dipped her head. He inhaled sharply when she kissed his nipple, her tongue rounding the pink aureole. Every part of his body stood at attention.

He groaned, buried his hands in her hair and tugged her head up. Then he did what he wanted to do from the first moment he saw her. He kissed her, hard, a passionate mating of lips. Slanting his mouth over hers, he tangled their tongues.

The kiss went beyond anything he had ever experienced. She tasted so good, so right. Her smell mingled with his, making a unique, captivating combination of scents.

It was as if he was inside her, connected. Her desire radiated through him. His hips thrust forward. He shifted and flipped their positions. Pinning her to the couch, he moved between her legs, pressing their bodies together. He nibbled, took her lower lip into his mouth and sucked, kissing her again and again. He couldn't seem to get enough. When he finally let her up for air, she was panting as hard as he, her cheeks flushed an attractive shade of pink, her lips wet from his kisses.

She made a provocative picture. He wanted to strip her clothes off slowly, savoring her until he could have it all, every inch of her body under his, sinking his incisors into her neck, taking. As he leaned forward again, she blinked, then her eyes rolled back in her head and she passed out.

"Killian?" He pressed his fingers to her cheek and lightly tapped. "Killian."

Oh hell.

He'd given her too much blood. He checked her breathing. It was good, smooth and even. Lifting her into his arms, he headed for his spare bedroom and laid her on the bed.

Rurik had said too much blood on a first exchange could overwhelm the recipient, causing unconsciousness. Since he had never done this before, he wasn't sure what was too much.

Now he knew.

He pulled a blanket over her. Wana jumped up on the bed and laid her head on Killian's shoulder. Dacon felt admonished.

"Don't look at me like that. She'll be fine. She'll be better than fine. You'll see. Trust me. She's in a sort of trance."

Wana tilted her head as if she didn't buy it. And why was he holding a conversation with a dog, anyway? Because Wana was Killian's best friend.

Tonight he had let things go too far, what was he thinking? He wasn't, that was his problem. Next time, he needed to remember how uninhibited she could become. Dacon shook his head as he left the room. He hoped he had the other detail right; in the morning, she would have no memory of this evening.

Chapter Nine

Sangerian Coven Blood Rules Descriptive Handbook page 345. Giving your own blood to a willing human from the Book of Select Donors will create an unbreakable bond. Be wary to whom you grant this privilege.

Killian walked into the kitchen, planted her butt on a barstool and watched Dacon chop a carrot. His apartment was roomy and neat. He glanced up and smiled, his sexy dimple winking at her. His dark hair curled into his face, his light brown silk shirt accented his startling light blue eyes, and his loose-fitting slacks draped comfortably on his tall frame.

A weapon holstered at his waist appeared similar to her top-of-the-line auto-laser blaster. A Comm and a satellite radio hooked onto his belt too, while his gold badge shimmered at his hip. In her world, he could merely be another detective going to work.

The man should be outlawed for being so gorgeous, she thought. A good-looking man in uniform always made her heart twitter. He finished the carrots and started on the lettuce, his movements efficient. She picked up a newspaper from the bar. _S-Coven Daily News._

They have a newspaper down here? She spread out the paper, perusing for interesting sections. The headlines caught her eye.

Fourteen murdered up top

Possible Human Hunter Involvement

Will there be another war?

Oh, great, she really looked forward to working with the vamps after that headline.

She rubbed her forehead and tried to make her way through the thick fog. What happened here in the early morning? Everything was a blur. She couldn't seem to pick the pieces up from her mind. Somewhere along the line, her memory had broken.

"You're alive and kicking, I see," he said.

"No kidding, that wine really knocked me out. I slept all day."

He paused, the knife in midair, his smile faltering. She briefly wondered what was wrong.

"What do you remember?"

"Not a lot. Sitting on the couch, drinking more wine. It's a blur after that."

His grin returned as he resumed chopping. "Our wines are very potent. You were tired. You needed rest. We usually sleep during the day. Now you're on our schedule."

"I'm used to this schedule. I work nights."

"Perfect." He transferred the lettuce to a bowl and added in an array of colors, red, yellow, orange. She had never seen so many fresh vegetables in one place.

"I thought you might be hungry. The ingredients come from our own farms." He carried the bowl to the set table next to a steaming casserole.

"Don't tell me you cook." She placed her hand on her heart. "I think I'm in love," she cooed.

His eyes snapped up and met hers. All pretense of fun was wiped from his expression.

She lifted her hands. "Kidding, kidding. So vampires eat solid food?" He stared at her hands, then seemed to snap out of his trance. He drew a chair back for her.

She took in a breath as she walked toward him. It had been so long since she sat down to a decent meal, especially with a man like Dacon.

"Blood feeds my life force. Eating is for pure pleasure. I like the taste of food. Especially fresh food."

"A good rare steak can overrun all my common sense too." She slipped into the chair. He sat across from her. "Where's Wana?"

"Byron came by and took her for a walk. Believe it or not, we do have a park down here for canines." He passed her the salad.

"A park for canines." She shook her head and loaded up on salad. Usually the disease threw her appetite right out the window. All those drugs. But today she was ravenous. Come to think of it, she didn't remember waking up with the shakes. And her ears weren't ringing. Every once in a while, her disease gifted her with a good day; she figured this was one of those days.

"You look refreshed."

"Strangely enough, I feel wonderful. Guess your world agrees with me." She dug into the casserole. The chicken concoction looked and smelled better than anything she'd eaten in the last year.

"Okay, let's talk blood," she said, and his fork stilled.

She frowned. What was with him today? He seemed rattled. She wished she could read his mind.

"You wanted to know about the strange markers in the vampire blood."

"Right, the markers." He continued eating.

"Here's the thing. Your blood isn't human, so I made a new category, V."

A smile lurked at the corner of his mouth. "V seems appropriate."

She nodded. "The victims' blood was all V, same characteristics. But, I found a different blood type on the scene, which I suspect belongs to the killer. I also found human blood. A very rare type. I've got my lab profiling the DNA for that blood. First, I'd like to work with your techs on the rare vampire blood."

"What's different with this vampire blood?" he asked.

"That blood platelet was missing fibrinogen. In human blood, this is an essential element to clotting. It was present in all the victims' V blood, so I assume you also have it in your blood. So we know we're looking for two suspects, a human and a vampire, both with rare blood types."

"Blood injections feed a good percentage of our population," he said, putting down his fork. "Everyone who injects has a blood profile filed in the lab. They use the typing in order to manufacture the shots. Some vampires have different needs than others."

"Good, so we can narrow the field." She took another scoop of the casserole and plopped it on her plate. Then she dished up more salad.

"Maybe I'm not kidding about being in love with you for your cooking," she said between bites. "This is so good." Something strange was happening to her. She could actually see her hands with both eyes, as if someone had turned on the focus dial in her right eye. It had been a while since she made out anything beyond blackness there. In her right eye, the time between lightness was getting slimmer and slimmer. As her brain lesions dug into her optic nerves, her blindness fluxed. Lesions must be on vacation today, she thought, and that was okay with her.

He rolled his eyes. "Killian, it's a chicken casserole. Took me fifteen minutes to make."

"I don't care, best stuff I've had in a long time." She shoved in another forkful.

"We'll go to the lab after this. You can work with Rurik Sage. He's my lead tech."

"Sounds good." She answered him with her mouth full, and suppressed a groan. What was wrong with her? She was acting as if she hadn't eaten in a week. Embarrassing.

"I've got blood profiles on most of the hunters too," she said after swallowing. "If you can spare me some lab space, I'll check them for the rare blood type."

"We'll make room for you. So what made you go into this type of work? The study of human blood?"

Killian shrugged as she reached for a roll. "Figured it was a good idea, considering every woman in my family line has died of a rare blood disease."

"I've seen your disease wear on you."

"Yeah, well basically, my blood attacks my immune system, which eats at the coatings around my nerves and creates lesions in my brain. Sometimes the disease gives, and sometimes it takes. Hard to say what will be working from one day to the next. Eventually, one of the white matter brain lesions will dig deep enough to kill me nice and slow."

"Killian, I—"

"Hey, guys." Byron strolled in, Wana bounding in front to greet Killian with her usual nose nudging.

Byron took a seat. "Is that your chicken casserole?"

Killian wondered if Byron's mouth was going to start foaming.

Dacon got up, lifted another plate from the cabinet and set it in front of Byron.

"You eat solid food too?" she asked.

"Are you kidding me? Not many pleasures left for us vamps. Got to take what I can. Besides, I need to fit in with you humans." He dug into the food. Serious eating was the only noise for the next few minutes.

"I need you to poke around tonight." Dacon broke the silence. "See if you hear any grumbling of rebellion. Then get back up top. Keep an eye on the hunters."

"Sure thing." He was shoving food in so fast he could barely talk.

Killian suppressed a laugh. Byron was so different than Dacon. No old world charm there. Young, hip, like an agent working undercover with the anime rockers.

"Byron, don't take this assignment lightly." Dacon's voice was stern. "We have death in our ranks already. Whoever's doing this is not playing by Coven Rules. I don't want my baby brother to be the next victim."

"Blah, blah, again. Come on, I can take care of myself. I'll contact you tomorrow night." Byron pointed at the salad bowl. Killian slid it toward him, then sat back and studied the siblings.

Brothers. The way Dacon sheltered Byron was cute. She could see the protectiveness in every line of his posture. That's where Byron's blue eyes came from. Now she saw the resemblance.

"Brothers, huh? How many Sangerian brothers are there?"

Dacon reached back, lifted a napkin from the counter and handed it to Byron, who swiped it across his mouth.

"Only one more. Roman."

Interesting. The Coven leader was Dacon's brother.

"Listen, there's more going on here than we know," she said, filing the relationships in her mind. "I think both humans and vampires are involved in these murders, why is still a mystery." She started clearing the table, piling the dishes in the auto-wash. "Dacon's right. You need to be careful. Hook up with Sie when you get back up top. He's working the hunter angle for me and he trusts you."

"Cool, okay. Will do."

"What did you find out about those boys who went up top?" Byron asked as he heaped salad on his plate.

"They didn't check out here, not that we have a record of. They weren't authorized to go up top. I'm going to interview the families today. See if I can find out who they were hanging with. So far, I haven't discovered any explanation as to why they were there when they weren't supposed to be. And now they're dead." Dacon crossed his arms over his chest, his blue eyes darkening.

His grief and frustration reached out to Killian, the whirling emotions making her teeth clench. His aura flared, the white vibrating around him. He was calling to her.

In a dreamlike trace, Killian set down the plate and walked up behind him. She positioned her hands on his shoulders and massaged his neck. Kneading, she dug unto the tense muscles.

He moaned and dropped his head back. She sensed his gratification. It felt good to know she could soothe him.

Byron set his fork down. His mouth dropped open, then snapped shut.

Killian lifted her hands from Dacon's neck, stunned at her own actions. What just happened?

Dacon galvanized into action. Jumping up, he retrieved the remaining plates. He ignored her touching him with the familiarity of a wife with her husband.

Byron stood next. He patted Dacon on the shoulder and, with a quick goodbye, practically ran out the door.

Dacon held out his arm. "Shall we go to the lab?"

She set her fingers on his arm. She wasn't sure how to handle the events that had just occurred. Best to leave things unsaid. _For now_. "All right, let's see what I can do there."

At the door, Dacon advised her to give Wana the day off. Killian agreed. She felt different today—healthy enough to give Wana a break and let her stay in the apartment instead of dragging her around the vampire-infested underground.

The trip to the lab didn't require a ZAT ride and she dropped her grip on Dacon's arm when they walked through cookie cutter tunnel after tunnel, then into the lab ten minutes later.

The space was filled with equipment the likes of which she had never seen and several very attractive men and women in white lab jackets.

"You guys have any ugly vampires?"

Dacon chuckled and led her to a slightly older vamp.

"This is Rurik, the lead tech. Rurik, this is Killian Gray. She is my visitor and under my protection."

Dacon turned to her. "He'll take care of you. I'll be back later."

Killian touched his sleeve. Realizing what she was doing, she pulled her arm back. "You don't have to shuttle me around everywhere."

Dacon glanced at a smirking Rurik. Dropping his eyes, he ran a hand along the back of his neck. _Uh oh_. She recognized that habit, frustration.

"You do have to shuttle me around?"

Instead of answering, he placed a fist over his heart, bowed to Rurik, gave her a hand salute and departed.

She clapped her hands and smiled at the room of techs to ease the tension. If their expressions could singe like a blaster, she'd be a goner.

"Sorry to interrupt your day, folks. I'll try not to waste your time." Some of the hostility dropped.

_Damn_ , she hoped these vamps wouldn't kill her when she turned her back.

Chapter Ten

Sangerian Blood Coven Laboratory notice: The filing of G-profiles is required for all Coven members.

"You marked her with your blood." Byron leaned against the wall a foot from the lab and drew on a cigarette. "Are you insane?"

Dacon flicked him a glance. "That human habit is going to kill you."

"Better killed by smoking than by breaking a Coven Blood rule."

Dacon strolled on. He didn't want to have this confrontation in the open. After seeing Byron's reaction earlier when Killian answered his need for comfort, he figured he was in trouble.

_Christ_ , he couldn't believe he let his feelings reach out to her like that. He needed to have more control. This whole bonding ritual was so new to him. He felt as green as when he first took over the Coven Security more than two hundred years ago.

Byron dropped his cigarette, ground it into the concrete floor and followed him on the short walk back to his apartment.

They entered. The door hissed closed and, the next instant, Byron's scream echoed through the apartment. Dacon whipped around to see Byron leap at him. Byron flattened him against the solid metal wall. The breath was knocked out of Dacon's lungs.

He pushed down the primal need to fight back. If he did, one of them might end up dead—and it wouldn't be him.

Byron's canines extended and he growled, his fingernails elongating. He wrapped his hand around Dacon's neck and squeezed, cutting of his air and drawing blood.

"I asked you if you were insane. Answer me."

Despite his peaceable intentions, Dacon felt his body change, his teeth extending. He tasted blood on his tongue, experienced the infusion of his razor-sharp vampire instinct. He could kill Byron with a simple bite to his neck. Byron would never know what hit him.

He breathed deeply. Yes, he was older and stronger, but he deserved his brother's wrath.

"Back off." Dacon squeezed out his plea through his cut off windpipe. "Let me explain, _brother._ " He emphasized the last word, reminding Byron he was family.

Byron sneered, but loosened his fingers. Dacon sucked in air.

"This better be good." With trembling hands, Byron lit a cigarette, clearly coming down off the adrenaline high.

Dacon watched him with an affection strengthened by their clash. He'd known Byron wouldn't kill him. Only ninety years old, Byron hadn't learned to rein himself in when his emotions rose up. Dacon felt almost fatherly toward Byron, the last of the true Sangerian brothers' bloodline. After Dacon, their parents never expected to have another child. Byron was a gift for the entire family.

"You know I don't like it when you smoke in here." Dacon straightened and brushed the wrinkles from his shirt. He strode to the kitchen, grabbed a cloth from the counter and soaked the blood from his neck. Wouldn't do to bleed all over his best shirt. The cut would heal in seconds.

Dacon tossed the cloth aside. Striding into the living room, he slumped down on the lounger across from Byron. Wana nudged Byron's hand and he rubbed her head.

"Dacon, I don't give a fuck what you like or don't like. Tell me why you marked her with your blood. She's not one of the Willing. This action could get you killed."

Dacon sighed, collapsed against the back of the chair and closed his eyes. How could he explain why he did it when he didn't fully understand himself?

"She's dying." He opened his eyes and caught the tortured reaction on Byron's face.

"What?" Byron sucked in another shaky inhale of his cigarette.

"She's dying, Byron. She has maybe three months to live. I had an unexpected connection with her even before she took my blood."

"A mating connection?"

Dacon shrugged. A mating connection with a human wasn't unheard of. That's why a majority of those who converted were so willing.

"Does it matter how I know?"

Byron crushed out his cigarette on a metal plate adorning the table next to the couch and shook his head.

"No. God, Dacon. She's my friend. We've worked together on and off for close to three years. I knew she was sick, but I figured it wasn't serious. I mean, there's advanced medicine in the human world. Why can't they cure her?"

Dacon extended his hands in helplessness. "This condition can't be cured. She's tried herself. She will die as her mother and grandmother did before her. It's in her genes, in her blood. Just like the vampira virus is in ours."

He jumped up, took the few short steps to the couch and eased down next to Byron. "I only gave her my blood, that's it. Help her heal a little. I haven't turned her. I bent the Rules, okay. For her. I—" He slumped, his head into his hands. "I didn't know what to do."

Byron wrapped his arm around Dacon's shoulder. They sat that way in silence. There was nothing either of them could say.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" Byron broke the quiet, fingering the cut on Dacon's neck.

Dacon snorted, the tense atmosphere broken. "Like you could really hurt me, baby brother. I was letting you pin me."

"I know."

"You need to control yourself better. I could have easily killed you."

Byron wrapped his arms around Dacon's throat in a headlock. He tightened the hold to the point of pain. "You think so?"

Dacon smiled, twisted and flipped Byron to his back on the floor. With a warning bark, Wana skittered out of the way. Dacon drew a silver butterfly knife from his ankle, snapped it open and held it to the main artery running to Byron's brain.

Byron wheezed in a careful gulp. Dacon schooled his expression, not giving an inch. As far as Byron was concerned, he could kill him right now.

"One cut here, little brother, and you'd bleed out in about thirty seconds, give or take a few." He tilted Byron's head to the other side. "Or here." He touched another artery with the knifepoint. "In about ten seconds."

Wana lunged and barked. Dacon guessed she sensed he didn't mean to harm Byron and probably thought they were playing. The dog was smarter than many vampires Dacon knew. "Down," he ordered.

She whined, huffed and slid to the floor.

Dacon turned back to Byron. "You concede?"

Resistance sparked in Byron's eyes. The kid was as stubborn as their father. Dacon pricked his skin, drawing blood.

"Yeah, okay, I concede."

Dacon released the knife, twirled it, snapped it closed and slid it back into his ankle holster. He grabbed Byron's shirt and hauled him to his feet.

Byron took in a long, slow breath. "Hey, can you show me that move?"

Dacon pounded him on the shoulder and chuckled. "Sure, later, I've got a great program for the holo-simulator. Right now we have some investigating to do. Let's find out what a dozen vampires were doing in the human world without my authorization."

Byron straightened his shirt.

"Byron, about Killian—" Dacon stopped.

"I don't know what you're talking about. I know nothing about you spiking Killian with your blood. Never happened as far as I'm concerned." Byron said as he hooked up Wana to accompany him.

"Meet me back here after you finish your interviews," he said. Byron nodded.

Dacon felt a release from the heaviness of the last ten minutes. Byron was keeping his secret and no one would ever know he had given Killian his blood. He messed up, that's all, reaching out to her with his emotions. He wouldn't let it happen again.

Not in public anyway.

He grimaced. No, he chastised himself, not at all.

* * * * *

"Charice, where did Troy say he was going?" Dacon asked. Charice's apartment was cozy, the walls a subtle shade of mauve, the thick carpet a soft beige. The woman in front of him was young and beautiful, long black hair pulled back, light brown eyes blinking at him with deep sorrow. He picked up the imagegraph on the table and studied a captured moment between Troy and Charice. Snuggled close, noses touching, they smiled into each other's eyes. He could see the affection between them. He envied what they had and now that bond was severed by death.

"He said he had a meeting. He said you had authorized him to go up top. He said..." She buried her face in her hands and wept.

"What did he say?" Dacon stroked her dark hair. She was overwrought with grief. Her tears reminded him why he needed to find answers to these murders.

"Troy was the one. Can you imagine how privileged I felt when he told me he wanted to convert?"

"Troy was a converted human?" A red nano light flashed in Dacon's head. Yes, now he remembered. Six months ago, he had signed off on permission to convert Troy.

"Yes, he was in the Book of Select and Willing Donors. We fell in love somewhere along the way."

"Who was he meeting? Did he belong to any human organizations?"

"He did. He was tapering off his contacts up top, but he wanted to do it gradually. He didn't say who he was meeting. He had a few friends outside the farm, not connected with the Willing Donors." She dabbed her tears with her trembling hand. "I'll put a list together for you."

"Did he live here with you?"

"No, no, not officially, although he spent most his time here. He had his own place up top. We were waiting to move in together until after the mating ceremony. Tradition, you know—" She broke off.

He laid a hand on her shoulder. "Can you give me his address up top?"

"Sure, give me a few minutes."

Dacon sat back against the velvet settee and contemplated what he'd learned. There must be a connection between these murders and the fact the victims had once been human and he intended to find out. And what type of meeting were Troy and the others going to in the human world?

Charice returned with an electronic chip. "You'll find who murdered them, right, Dacon?" Her chin wobbled.

"I promise you Troy's death will be avenged."

She leaned forward and hugged him hard, her body shaking. He rubbed her back. This was grief in its purest form and it ripped at his gut. He recognized the feeling well after experiencing it many times during the war.

When she calmed down, he pocketed the chip and headed to the ZAT to return to his apartment. Byron should be about finished, he thought.

He had been apart from Killian for over six hours and his body throbbed with need, worse now than before. Every time they parted, his longing grew.

Was it because he had given her his blood? He rubbed the back of his neck. What had he done? Besides Byron, he could think of only one person to discuss this with. Someone he trusted with his life. He headed to the bar where Roman would be, likely sizing up his evening meal.

Club V was noisy, dark, steaming hot and full of crowding bodies. Unlike NFA, this establishment was packed to the concrete rafters with real vampires, not wannabes. One element remained consistent between the two hot spots, the participant's obsession with sex. Here, members from the Book of Willing Donors socialized with the Coven vampires, determining if they were willing to share their life's blood.

Several clubs around the caverns of the Coven provided an atmosphere for vampires to mingle, especially those who liked to feed on the Willing humans. Dacon rarely visited these establishments except to maybe have a drink with Roman. Just as he thought, Roman was sipping a glass of red wine and caressing the neck of a very attractive, dark-haired woman. He recognized her as one of the Willing.

He slipped into the booth next to his brother. "Roman?"

Roman turned a smiling face from the woman, his grin and hand dropping, his expression flipping to serious. "Dacon, what is it?" Roman knew he rarely visited V's.

"Can you meet me in my apartment?" Dacon asked.

Roman dipped his head in acknowledgement. His eyes strayed to his date, then back. "I'll be there in about thirty minutes. Everything okay?"

"Yeah, no problem. See you then."

Grimacing at the loud music, Dacon slid from the booth and made his way to the door.

He hoped he wasn't making a mistake by talking to Roman.

Chapter Eleven

Charice,

My life began when you gave me your blood. Now my heart beats as yours and my soul belongs to you.

Love,

Troy

"You never do things the easy way, do you? Your first blood marking with a human and you have to do it with an unwilling." As usual in Dacon's apartment, Roman sat in Dacon's favorite lounger.

"I didn't ask her, so we can't be sure she was unwilling." Dacon winced. Even to him, it sounded lame.

"With your aversion to humans, I'm stunned. This is a big risk to take, and with a species you claim not to like. What changed?"

Dacon leaned back and stared at the ceiling. Wana hopped up on the couch and laid her head on his thigh. _How do I explain?_ He laid his hand on her head. What was he supposed to say? _Oh, she's dying so I made a pivotal decision to break the laws I have been enforcing for over two hundred years to ease her pain. And on top of it, I'm fiercely attracted to her, have been from the first minute I laid eyes on her._

"She's different. I can't explain. She's not... Damn, Roman, I don't know. In my head, I had this all straight, and she's even related to the hunters. I should hate her, but I can't—"

"I warned you how overwhelming exchanging blood with a human can be."

"I have not exchanged blood with her. Only given her mine. To help heal her, that's all. I never expected her to react that way. It was, she was..." he ran a hand through his hair, "difficult to resist."

He lied. It wasn't just her. He'd wanted to take her right then, spread out on his couch, drunk on his blood, her lips wet from his kiss, with the smell of roses floating in the air. Thinking about the incident sent his heart thumping and his body straining. Sweat tickled his forehead.

"I can guarantee you will exchange blood—and much more," Roman said, his voice stern. "You should have discussed this with me. I could have told you what to expect. Once you give a human your blood, they are bonded to you in every way. For a female, this is sexual. If you so desired, you could make her your slave. That's why the handbook tells you to choose wisely."

Dacon shook his head. "She's not the type of woman one makes a slave."

"That's even worse. The more strong-willed the human, the more attracted they become to you, especially if there's an underlying draw, which you two obviously have."

Now what? He didn't voice the question, but Roman sensed it.

"I can't help you here." Roman spread his fingers, answering Dacon's unspoken question. "You got yourself into this. I suggest you explain to Killian what has happened."

Dacon jolted up and began pacing. "Are you mad? I'm not going to tell her anything and neither are you."

"You expect me to ignore your infraction of our law?" Roman asked.

Dacon stopped and faced him. "I expect you to be my brother right now, not my leader. I expect you to help me, offer me advice."

Roman inclined his head. "So it will be. I already offered you advice and you chose not to take it."

The outside hall door opened. Dacon wheeled around, his fingers curling toward his leg and the knife housed there. Roman jumped off the chair, reaching for his own weapon.

Byron grinned at both of them. "You're jumpy today. Did I come at a bad time?"

Dacon's fingers uncurled. He looked at Roman, who crossed his arms over his chest and glared at him, as if Byron's entrance was his doing. Dacon turned back to Byron. He wasn't going to explain himself to his baby brother.

Byron glanced from one brother to the next. Understanding dawned on his young face. He nodded at Dacon. "You told him."

"Yes, I told him."

"He told me," Roman said at the same time. With one last frown, he sat back on the lounger.

"He's gone crazy, hasn't he?" Byron flopped onto the loveseat next to Roman. Wana abandoned the couch and headed toward Byron.

Dacon grimaced. The dog obviously had an affinity for his baby brother.

"No, brother, I think Dacon's in love," Roman said casually.

"What!" Dacon bellowed. "I am not in love. I was trying to help her. You see how much pain she's in."

"We see." Roman shrugged and joined Byron in play with Wana. They had dismissed him.

Dacon glared at them. Nothing new there. As the middle child, he was lucky if they ever heard him.

Taking a seat across from them, he addressed Byron. "What did you find out in your interviews?"

Byron stopped his antics, all business now. "I interviewed seven of the victims' families. The common thread I found was going up top to an invitation-only meeting for converted humans. I searched rooms, stationary computers and personal organizers. I discovered the location for this meeting and I found this." He held up a sealed evidence bag with a small bulge in the middle.

"What is it?" Dacon leaned forward, his hand held out.

"A medallion of some sort."

Byron passed it to him. He rotated the see-through bag, frowning at the circular metal piece, about three inches in diameter, like an oversized coin used in the old pre-credit days. He tested the weight and inspected the symbol etched deep into the metal. Sangerian signature roses and something else he didn't recognize. A sword, but one he had never seen before.

"Do either of you know this symbol?" He tossed it to Roman.

After studying it for long seconds, Roman shook his head. "Any information on what the meeting was about?"

"Nope, nothing. I found this same object in two other of the victims' rooms."

"Were all the victims converted and mated humans?" Dacon was talking to himself now.

"The mates I interviewed were. All came from the Book of Select and Willing Donors and had fallen in love with the vampire who converted them."

He went to his computer. "Computer, analyze victim mating and conversion status for matches," he ordered.

"Data analyzed, all victims mated to vampires were converted humans." Byron was correct, everyone except Troy, who hadn't completed the lifelong joining ceremony, had been mated to his or her feeding vampire.

"Obviously whoever murdered our people had a problem with the humans who converted. Maybe one of our own. Take those to the lab and see if they can match any trace." He scanned a picture of the coin in the computer and transferred it to his PO. "I'll try to track down the Crafter who made these. Can't be very many who design these types of symbols."

His Comm vibrated and he checked the digital message on it. It was Rurik telling him Killian was ready to be picked up.

"I need to get back up top." Byron stood. "I want to check out this meeting place and go by Troy's place."

"I'll be up shortly," Dacon said. "Transmit the location of the meeting place to my PO."

Nodding, Byron headed toward the door.

"Byron," Dacon called.

Byron stopped and turned.

"Watch only. Don't do any entries unless I'm there. These people don't play by the rules." Dacon pictured the holes in Troy's body from the exploding bullets and the victims' severed heads.

His expression annoyed, Byron saluted Dacon and strode out the swishing door.

"Sometimes he's too brash and stubborn." Dacon stood and regarded a painting on his wall, a scene taken from the Battlefields of Blood. The vampire in the painting was an inch from taking out the human's jugular, and the human's laser pistol was poised an inch from the vampire's temple. The determination and hate on their faces spoke to their purpose. Death to both was inevitable.

"He has Father's stubborn side." Roman joined him in front of the painting.

"We killed so many hunters back then."

"And they killed many vampires," Roman added.

"We maintain a delicate balance with humans. We still indulge with the Willing, need them almost, yet we do a dangerous dance with the hunters."

"A balance that has been upset and I want to know why," Roman said.

Dacon placed his hand in the middle of the painting. "Sangerian, Dacon, access granted." With a click, the painting slid aside. A metal drawer hissed out. Dacon lifted the weapon he hadn't touched in fifteen years.

He pressed his thumb to the center. The LNA, Leave Nothing Alive, as Dacon coined it, was calibrated for his thumb signature. At his touch, two razor-sharp knives snapped out of the base, giving him four feet of doubled-edged blades and old-fashioned steel to work with. He pressed his thumb to the base and the knives retracted. Satisfied, he snapped the unobtrusive, deadly weapon to his belt, then picked up a holster encasing two illegal L-500 laser blasters. He slid the holsters over his shoulders. Should the need arise, he could cross draw both at once.

"Been a while since I've seen you wear those weapons. I'll disregard what I just saw, in light of the fact they aren't legal for us to carry."

"I might need you up top." Dacon snapped down the gear, basically ignoring Roman's comment.

"I'll be there if—or when—you need me. Best I stay out of this unless absolutely necessary."

Dacon nodded. Roman was their leader, their ambassador of peace, not war.

"Be careful, Dacon."

He slipped on a suit jacket to cover the weapons.

"Always." Except, he thought, when it came to Killian.

* * * * *

"So what you're saying is all vampires carry basically the same blood hemoglobin profile?" Killian stood next to the lab counter, where she had been planted a good portion of the day.

"Yes, exactly, we call them G-Profiles." Rurik tipped back from the microscope and swiveled the chair around to face Killian. Blond hair and contrasting blue eyes regarded her with a neutral expression. He was a hard one to read, but strangely cooperative. Still, she had a deep down inkling she was missing a piece to his personality.

"With the exception of very rare cases," he continued, "they should have the same G-profile."

"What are these exceptions?"

"A few of our vampires carry different G-profiles from their parents' genes. Some of our human conversions have experienced past disease or gene conundrum, which can alter the profile. It's rare, but I've seen it. For the most part, all vampires carry the same G-profile. No individual DNA profiles like humans. Hard to tell us apart, from our blood anyway."

He rotated back around to the HP-microscope on the bench. "That being said, this sample you have given me is a very rare disorder. There are only three individuals on file with this profile."

_Oh great, hope_. _Finally._ With no witness statement, no access to the vampires' friends or associates to interview, no crime scene evidence beyond these strange blood profiles that didn't have individual DNA signatures and no relevant data coming in from the hunter surveillance, solving this case was close to impossible.

"The Sangerian brothers all have this G-profile. It is a gene disorder passed down from their father. A supplement is added to their injects to compensate for the lack of a clotting agent. Otherwise, if cut, they could easily bleed out."

The Sangerian brothers? Huh?

"That's Roman, Byron and Dacon, correct?"

"That's correct."

"Any additional forensics off the bodies?" she asked, not letting him see the distress slicing through her.

"We didn't find anything else beyond the report from your crime laboratory technician. Whoever killed those men knew what they were doing, where to inflict injury for the maximum effect. Similar to the carnage I saw during the war. A hunter would have that knowledge and those weapons. I wouldn't rule out the possibility. A vampire would also have the same knowledge." There was no accusation in his voice. He revealed the facts as he saw them, exactly what she expected from a man of science.

"Mind if I use that space over there?" She pointed to the empty lab bench next to his.

"Be my guest. Let me know if you need anything." He went back to his work.

She stared at him for another moment. Professional, composed, knowledgeable, he was the perfect lab technician. But something wasn't right about him and she wasn't sure what. Obviously not all vampires loathed working with humans. After all, they fed off them. Sure, the vampires had a good relationship with humans from the Book of Willing Donors, and the lab personnel had been stellar examples of teamwork. Still...

"Can I use the desk unit computer?"

"Yes, I already set you up for visitor access."

She nodded, and slipped a chair under the bench. She took out her P-9500 and hooked it into the interface port. Time to get to work on the human blood. Find out if any of her hunters carried a rare blood type. A million thoughts whirled in her mind, above all, a voice asking what the Sangerian brothers' connection was in all this. Could any of them be killers? _Not Dacon, it couldn't be Dacon. Why didn't he tell me about his G-profile?_ She ruthlessly silenced the thoughts and the voice. _Later._ She needed to focus now. Concentrate. Later she would think about what this meant.

* * * * *

"I notified Dacon that you are ready to leave."

Killian glanced up from the computer screen where she studied data from the Sangerian autopsy report. She blinked and glanced around the lab. They were alone. All the techs except Rurik had left.

"My shift is ending. I need to rest."

She glanced at her watch, 4:00 a.m. Where had the last seven hours gone? "Do all vampires sleep during the day?"

"For the most part. We could stay up for days on end, if need be. We've built a society down here much like yours. We have work, rest and playtime. We even, Dr. Gray, socialize." His voice dripped with sarcasm.

Killian straightened at the break in his perfect veneer. "So which are you going to be doing?"

He shucked off his lab coat and pulled on a black suede jacket. "I'm going to be enjoying what remains of my day with a beautiful woman and lots of human blood."

She stared. That was the second time his façade had slipped. "So you don't use injects?"

He turned toward her, his expression intense, as if he wanted to break her in two. Then his features schooled.

"No, I'm a Book-of-Willing-Donors man."

"So what do you think about vampires using blood injects?" She realized she was needling him. Her senses alert, she wanted to see his reaction.

She got her wish. He spun and snarled, his upper lip rising, his teeth extending. His eyes flashed from blue to red.

Killian's fingers twitched as she lowered her hand to her blaster.

Dacon strode into the lab, breaking the tension. Killian pulled her hand up. Rurik's eyes flashed back to blue. He pivoted away from her and feigned interest in the HP-scope on the lab bench, fiddling with a knob, flipping a switch. When he turned back, his teeth were normal.

"You ready?" Dacon's brow furrowed, his blue gaze stole back and forth between Killian and Rurik.

"Sure." Killian smiled at Rurik and held out her hand. "It's been a pleasure."

Rurik engulfed her hand with his firm grip. "The pleasure has been all mine. Please feel free to contact me if you have any needs. I'm sure we'll see each other again."

Killian nodded and turned to Dacon, dismissing him. Rurik's prejudices were none of her business.

Dacon steered her out of the lab and guided her on the brief walk to his apartment. "I need to go up top. I've uncovered some information." He opened the apartment door and gestured for her to precede him.

Wana circled Killian, her canine smile wide. Killian scooted down, rubbing her ear.

"What have you done tonight, girl? Eventful evening?"

Wana licked Killian's face.

"Good," Killian said. "Me too. I found one of the hunters with the rare blood type and DNA we're searching for. I'd like to bring him in for questioning." She paused. Should she tell Dacon what she had discovered about him and his brothers?

She firmed her shoulders. Why hesitate? This was her job.

"I'd like to talk to you about something."

"Sure." He eased down onto the couch. She sat across from him on the loveseat her hand on Wana's body for support. The dog calmed her, and right now her heart was pounding at ninety miles per hour.

"You have a rare G-profile."

"Is that a question or an accusation?" He smiled.

She waited. His grin died.

"Yes." His voice was curt. "I have a rare G-profile, as do my brothers. A disorder passed down from our father. We didn't find out until they typed us for the special injects."

"Do you know what your vampire blood is missing?"

He rubbed a hand along the back of his neck in an action she recognized as his response to frustration.

"Let me guess, we are missing the same elements you are searching for, the ones that deal with clotting. I should have pieced it together when you were talking about it earlier. Damn." He hit his hand on the arm of the couch.

"Exactly, you and your brothers are the only three in your clan with the same blood profile found at the crime scene."

"You can't seriously think any of us killed our own clansmen?" His hands fisted, his body tensed. He stalked over and sat down next to her, twisting to face her. He set his hands on her shoulders. "Killian?"

She felt herself softening, wanting to lean forward and lay her head on his shoulder. _What was happening to her?_ With a deep breath, she pulled herself out of the puddle she was melting into. "Why didn't you tell me you had a rare blood type when I was talking to you about it? It would have made my job a lot easier."

He raised his hands, then dropped them back down. "I didn't think about it. This typing is new to us. The techs only recently started it. Before that, we used the same injects as the general population. The clotting issue only affected us during war, and with the invention of the chambers we healed quicker, so it was never discovered we bled any faster than our brothers. Hell, in those days everyone was bleeding."

His grip on her shoulders tightened. "You have to trust me on this. We aren't involved in these killings. There must be someone else with this profile."

"Rurik said this disorder is genetic. It's unlikely anyone beyond your family carries this G-profile."

His hands slid down her arms. With his right hand, he played with her fingers. "Someone could have planted our blood."

"Why?"

He linked their fingers. Bringing her hand fully into his, he caressed her palm.

A thrill spun through Killian. She wanted him to bring her closer and touch more than her fingers. Much more. He made her want. It was crazy, but true.

"I don't know. We'll unravel what's happening here. I need you to completely trust me."

She dropped her gaze to their linked hands. The contrast of his darker skin against her lightness was startling. Her mother had drilled the ideology into her that vampires were pale, unfeeling monsters. Dacon blew up her preconceived notions.

"Okay." Her voice was gentle, unlike her.

"Just like that, okay?" He ran his thumb over hers.

She met his blue stare. She saw his sincerity and realized her surrender wasn't because she craved his touch. Deep in her gut, she was positive he didn't have anything to do with these murders.

"Just like that. In decision-making, I don't mess around. I'm not a wishy-washy kind of girl."

"No, you're not. I admire that about you. I admire a lot about you." He reached up and caressed her cheek.

His touch settled over her like a warm soother on a cold night. Felt so right. His tousled hair didn't fit his immaculate appearance or formal manner. She wanted to run her fingers through it and tug him close by the roots. She tamped down the feelings.

"We should get up top." She choked the words out, when leaving was the last thing she wanted to do. "I'd like to pick up this hunter."

He dropped his hand and nodded. "We'll have to use my Panera, Byron already left and took the Class A."

"Great, a longer trip in car world known for speed." She swallowed a groan.

"Somehow I'm getting the idea you're not a speed demon." He grinned wickedly.

_Heartless man._ "I like to keep my feet firmly planted on the ground. Is that too much to ask?"

He rose and hauled her up with him. His hand dropped to the small of her back. She stumbled into his embrace.

"Steady there." He chuckled as his other arm circled around and settled on her back. "Don't worry, I'll keep you safe and sound."

"It's not that I don't trust your driving..." At his raised brow, she shrugged. "Okay, maybe I don't trust your driving."

"You can trust me. I thought we already had this conversation."

"Yeah, but—"

He laid his fingers over her lips. "You can trust me, in everything. Your ride with me will be safe," he murmured as he dipped his head.

Surely he wasn't... Her brain shut down when his mouth touched hers _. Oh God_. The warm flavor of his lips was the sweetest thing she had ever tasted. _Screw chocolate, this was better_.

Crowding closer, she slid her hands up his chest and buried them in his hair. _Ahhh, yes_ , that's where she wanted her fingers. When he intensified the assault, she clutched at his head. His lips opened hers, his tongue reaching to tangle and chase. He tilted his head for better access, the kiss deepening.

Killian lost herself in him. His unique scent washed over her, arousing her, bringing her to a quick boil. She sank into him, letting him take the lead, giving him whatever he wanted. The feel of his hair against her fingertips was so soft, his heart thundered against hers, the sensation magnified, blasting into her. She couldn't separate her feelings from his. It was as if they were one.

He lifted his head. He panted, the kiss obviously affecting him as much as her.

"Ready for that ride?"

She wanted to scream, _Yes! Take me anyway you want_ , until she realized what he was asking. _The car_. She pushed against his chest, staggering out of his embrace.

"Right, yeah, let's get this over with." She grabbed Wana's harness and followed him out of the apartment. What was she going to do about this attraction and that kiss? If the last few minutes were any indication, she was heading toward sleeping with the enemy.

Chapter Twelve

Sangerian Coven Blood Rule number three hundred forty-nine: Loyalty in the clan is vital to the success of the Coven. Actions of disloyalty will be labeled treason and subject the offender's action to prosecution under Coven law. This will be punishable up to and including death.

"Are we going to talk about that?" She fluttered her hand back and forth between them.

With one hand on the wheel, Dacon navigated the I-580 freeway at speeds exceeding one hundred ten miles per hour. God, he loved driving fast. Autopiloted and hovercrafts were the current rave, but he preferred the old-fashioned manual method.

They zipped around the Altamont hills, forty miles out from Oakland. He followed the line of the former windmills, millions of white propellers dotting the green hills that used to provide power to over half the city, now they were empty shells. He preferred the time humans used wind.

"Talk about what?" he asked.

"That was wrong on so many levels," she mumbled, and he guessed more to herself than him. But his ears picked up on one major word, wrong.

"You're upset I kissed you." He glanced from the asphalt highway to her face, then returned to the road. She's thinking too much. He wondered what she would say if he told her that wasn't the first time they kissed.

"Do you really feel a need to analyze our attraction? Not to sound cliché, but last time I checked, we were both consenting adults."

"Yeah, you're right. Let's talk about the case." She dismissed her idea. It was obvious she had only wanted to shove past an awkward moment. "What did you come up with?" Her perky voice, so unlike her, confirmed his assumption.

"I'm exploring a pattern." He decided to follow her lead. For now. "All the victims were converted humans who were invited to attend a meeting the night of the mass murder. Byron is watching the meeting location. I'd like to search Troy's apartment, see what I can find. What did you discover?"

"Besides my main suspects being yourself and your brothers?"

"Besides that."

"I found a hunter who has AB with Rh factor negative blood and a DNA profile which connects him directly to the crime scene. Do you have a list of all the vampires in the Coven?"

"Sure, a total population list is in my PO."

"I'd like to know who doesn't have a G-profile on file."

"You'll need a file from the Coven to compare, and only our lab has that."

Smirking, she held up her P-9500. "Not anymore."

"How did you get that? As far as I know, you were only granted visitor access."

"Let's keep it simple and say I know how to do things."

"You hacked into the Sangerian G-profile database?" Dacon was amazed. As far as he knew, the database was as impenetrable as the underground compound. He would have to talk to his cyber technician about Killian's intrusion.

"Hacked is such a vulgar word."

"But accurate." He tried to keep from smiling.

She snickered. "I'd say we have some work to do and maybe a couple clues to start with."

"Maybe."

Except for the purring engine, a peaceful quiet settled over them.

"Tell me about your family," she said as they neared the city, the traffic heavier.

He winced. Talking about his family still caused him pain. "My father and mother were both killed in the war."

"Leaving the three brothers."

"Yes, leaving us three."

"So tell me," she picked an imaginary speck off her lap, "who's the oldest?"

"Hasn't anyone told you asking a vampire his age is rude?" He loved bantering with her. She made a simple conversation stimulating on so many different levels.

"Sure, so who's the oldest?"

He fought back his laughter. She was so tenacious and beautiful and...so much he desired.

"I am the middle brother."

"And that would make you..."

"Old. Older than you would think of being." Now what would she say?

"Well, you've aged well."

"A compliment for me, a vamp. I'm sincerely grateful."

"To tell you the truth, I kind of like you."

"Two compliments in one day." He held his hand to his heart; although it thumped with pleasure at her admission, he kept his tone light. "Be still, my vamp heart."

"Don't let it go to your head. How would you describe your brothers?"

His nerves prickled and he dropped his hand. He recognized the smooth technique of idle chatter before moving in for the kill. She was interrogating him, trying to get information. He might have been caught in her trap if he hadn't practiced the method himself.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, would you think either of them capable of murder?"

"What are you getting at?" Inside him, his anger brewed.

"Dacon, do you know the location of both your brothers on the night of the murder?"

"Roman has a secular device injected into his neck in case he is kidnapped. He can always be tracked. Similar to what Chance described for the hunters. So yes, Roman wasn't up top. I have the same device." He pointed to his neck.

"And Byron?"

He gnashed his teeth. "I don't track Byron because I completely trust him and his assignment is covert. I don't want any earth security sensors to pick up on the device."

"Do you think Byron is capable of these murders?"

He shook his head. "No, I absolutely do not." He gripped the center console until his knuckles turned white and the car sped up another ten miles per hour.

"I had to ask. It's my job." She covered her hand over his.

His foot eased on the accelerator. "I know." He turned his hand over and held her fingers in his. Linking to her so simply felt strange, yet right.

"It's possible someone in the Coven planted your G-Profile on the scene. You realize this? Someone aware that only you three brothers have this unique blood profile. Do others know about the tracking implants?"

"Very few, a couple on my security staff and the lab tech who did the injection."

"Do you trust these people?"

"I do. Rurik's been our lead tech for nearly two hundred years and my security staff, is above reproach." Even thinking he might not be able to trust those most close to him sent his head spinning.

"With the secular devices on you and Roman, suspicion would fall on Byron."

"I understand, but Byron didn't do it." Of this he was one hundred percent sure. His brother would never hurt a clan member.

She gave his hand a quick squeeze, then released his fingers. He returned his hand to the wheel, but not before a small jolt went through him at her touch. She made him weak. Not good.

"Best if we can find out if he has an alibi for the evening in question," she said. "To make sure."

"I'll question him."

"I'm going to call Sie and have the team bring in the hunter. Let him cool his heels in the FBI office for a while until I get there. See if it loosens his tongue." She flipped open her Comm to make the call.

"Let's stop by Troy's apartment quickly before your office." He plugged the location into the DL.

"Sounds like a plan," she said as she concentrated on the call.

* * * * *

Troy's apartment was a small studio in an expensive side of town. The street was tree-lined and had plenty of street lamps, unlike most neighborhoods. A watch beacon flashed when they entered the driveway. Only the best could afford one-touch watch—twenty-four/seven surveillance directly connected to the local police.

"Nice digs," Killian said as she walked up to the door. She hadn't been to the apartment yet. Jinx and Sie had processed it earlier with Byron.

"We supplement the Willing's housing." He must have felt the need to explain away the dollars she was wondering about.

"Of course you do," she murmured.

"Organics are expensive," he said as she used her law enforcement code to deactivate the private security and open the door.

"No kidding. Can we make some sort of deal on that?" she asked as they entered, sealed their hands and immediately split up to investigate. Dacon veered toward the kitchen.

"We can make a deal, Agent Gray, but wouldn't that be unethical? Along the lines of a bribe?" She could hear the humor in his statement.

"I'll willingly break the rules for a fresh carton of strawberries." She rifled through the drawers of Troy's writing table, one of the few pieces of furniture in the place. The desktop was clear of imagegraphs and papers. Not even any personal knickknacks. Odd, she thought.

"How about melon? This time of year we grow fresh cantaloupe?"

She groaned. "Oh, okay, now you're just being downright mean, rubbing my favorite fruit in my face." Giving up on the desk, she moved to the other side of the room and began shuffling through Troy's sparse clothing, coming up empty-handed.

Dacon came around the corner and propped his shoulder against the doorjamb.

"Agent Gray. I might have to report you to your superiors if we continue this conversation." His mouth tilted up, that sexy dimple teasing her.

"Any messages on his answering Comm?" he asked.

She tapped her 9500 and skimmed Jinx's report. "Nope. The computer was seized, placed in the queue at Cyber for examination. We can see if they got anything off it. I doubt it, or they would have filed a supplemental report. Any leads from trace found would have been reported to me by now as well." She checked her incoming messages to see if any additional reports had arrived. Finding nothing, she did a final perusal around the studio. "There's not much as far as clothing or personal stuff, almost like he wasn't living here."

Dacon's actions mimicked hers as he glanced around. "Charice said he would have been giving up his apartment soon to live below. He would have spent most of his time with her, but they wouldn't have officially lived together until after the mating ceremony."

"Well, isn't that cutely old-fashioned?"

Dacon lifted a shoulder. "We do try to adhere to some old traditions."

"I'd say your people are all about old traditions," she snorted.

"The old traditions help us keep order," he said.

"Well, sometimes others look at rules as a challenge. I'm not convinced these murders didn't involve the workings of some of your own. Maybe wanting to break the rules?" She held his intense stare.

"I'm in agreement with you. I'm not certain either, but I'm also suspicious the hunters could be involved." Dacon raised his hands in the air. "Have something to clean this up?" His request broke the edgy mood and ended their conversation.

"Sure." She handed him a wipe to remove the sealer off his hands. She pointed at him. "Hey, I'm going to take you up on that cantaloupe offer," she warned, trying to get back the teasing atmosphere.

He laughed and pocketed the wipe. "Take me up on anything you'd like, Dr. Gray," he drawled as he trailed his thumb over her cheek.

"Yeah, somehow I think I'm going to regret that comment." She batted his hand off and strode toward the door. His chuckled sounded in her wake.

They arrived in her office as the sun was threatening to rise. The twenty-story FBI building was understated, could be any old business enterprise.

"Going to be light soon."

She slipped on her sunglasses. "Hate the light," she grumbled.

He smiled, "A woman after my own heart. You're not alone."

"Let's see what we can get out of this hunter."

Chapter Thirteen

Sangerian Coven Blood Rules number eighty-seven: Taking human blood will form a connection with the giver, for this reason, doing so has been restricted to the Willing per the Treaty of the Vampire-Human Factions.

Her squad members were at their desks, each busy at a task. Sie frantically tapped away at the computer keys, studying a three-dimensional building schematic. Jinx talked on the desk Comm, gesturing wildly and fiddling with her PO. Randy watched the interview room monitor, keeping an eye on the prisoner and holding a compression bandage to his head. Killian released Wana from her harness and let her socialize.

"What happened to you?" Killian hurried to Randy and lifted the bandage. Looking at the jagged cut, she felt the anger rising inside her.

"Damn hunter put up a fight. He got one good lick in before I floored him. From that point, the only licking going on was coming from me."

Sie's gruff laughter mocked him. Killian breathed easier. Sie wouldn't laugh if Randy were hurt badly.

She glanced at the digital monitor. The hunter was pretty roughed up. He held a compress up to his nose, his eye a nice shade of black.

"Did we get him medical attention?"

"Yeah," Sie piped up. "But he refused."

She inclined her head toward Randy. "You need to have that L-sealed."

"Ah, come on. You know how much I hate hospitals."

"I don't care. Jinx!" From the corner of her eye, she saw Jinx hold up a finger. "Take him when you're off the Comm."

Jinx nodded. Randy grimaced and pressed the compression back on his head.

"You, stay," Killian ordered Randy.

He barked like a dog.

Killian laughed, then turned to address the team. "What do we have on our Mr. Aaron Minor, hunter _extraordinaire_?"

Jinx hung up and tapped her PO screen. "He's twenty-three, young for a hunter, didn't see any action during the war. He's been on inactive since he achieved hunter status. Was arrested twice for disorderly, nothing serious. I ordered his financials and the file revealed he has a large credit from a few weeks ago. I tracked it as far as I could. Came from the Mexican Republic and basically it's not traceable. Whoever gave him those credits knew what they were doing."

Killian sighed. Ever since Mexico established their Republic, it was a gutter of criminal activity. Once something filtered through R.Mexico, it was lost.

Sie took over. "I followed him around. The only stop worth mentioning was a high-tech knife shop in the city. After he left, I queried the owner. Minor finished paying for some sort of specially made medallions. Here's the pattern." He brought up a three-D image that rotated in front of them.

"Comm records?"

"Can't find a public one," Randy said. "Not in his name anyway. He didn't have a Comm on him, but I assume he has it somewhere."

"I recognize that pattern. I'll send it to you." Dacon spoke for the first time since they got there, sliding his PO out of his pocket. The move lifted his jacket and revealed a holster holding a law enforcement issued blaster. She stored the information. Later, she'd talk to him about the illegal weapon.

He exchanged his PO address with Sie. Sie projected the imagegraph of Dacon's medallion next to his. It was a match.

"Byron retrieved this from one of the victim's belongings," Dacon said.

"And Minor's hunter tracker, what does it tell us?" Killian asked.

Sie flicked his finger, the data floated in front of them, digital time and date stamps for Minor. "He was accounted for on the night of the murders, safe and sound at NFA."

"So how did his DNA get on my crime scene?" Killian heard the harshness in her voice. "So much for Chance's hack-proof tracking system."

She glanced at Dacon as he talked to Jinx. He smiled, showing off his sexy dimple. Something inside Killian melted. Every day her attraction to him grew—to his messed hair, his blue eyes lit with interest and intelligence, his hard body filling up his clothing in a way that should be criminal. His skin seemed to glow with vibrancy. He energized her; when she was with him, she had never felt so good.

So what was she going to do about it?

"Shall we shake him up?" she said. His gaze met hers and she damped down her emotions. This was not the time, the place.

"Have you heard of good cop, bad cop?" she asked, nodding at him to follow her.

"I'm familiar with the interrogation technique. Which would you desire I portray?"

"Let's play it by ear."

She pressed her palm against the access panel. The door slid open. From ten feet away, she could see the signs of Minor's apprehension; the sweating brow, shifting eyes and wringing hands.

He has something to hide.

All they needed to do was get it out of him.

"Good evening, Mr. Minor," she said. "How are you tonight?"

"What the hell is going on? Why did you guys drag me down here? I haven't done anything wrong."

Killian tugged a chair back and planted herself. Dacon did the same.

"First, let me introduce you to my partner. This is Dacon Sangerian. Do you recognize Mr. Sangerian, Mr. Minor?"

He shook his head, but she smelled his fear.

"Mr. Sangerian is in charge of security for the vampires. I'm sure you know that name from your hunter training."

Minor's glare bounced from her to Dacon, who smiled with his canines showing and growled. Minor's gaze danced back to her. He wiped his nose. His hand shook. She bit back a smile. Dacon's appearance intimidated, he didn't need to play any bad cop role beyond being himself.

Killian clicked a button. The crime scene imagegraphs flicked onto the wall-screen in the interview room.

"Recognize any of these people, Mr. Minor?"

His eyes widened. "No."

She touched another button. A response meter in the form of a scale appeared next to the screen. The word "deceptive" blazed above it in blood red.

"Aaron, this room is wired to monitor your reaction to my questions. If you're lying, the detector picks it up. So I guess you're lying."

Minor gulped, his Adam's apple quivering.

"So why did you purchase this?" she asked as the medallion flashed on the screen.

Minor wiped his brow, his lips clamped together.

Killian continued her tone relentless. "And why do I have your DNA at a crime scene with fourteen dead vampires?"

"I want to speak to a lawyer. I have the right to a lawyer."

Dacon flew across the table before she could react. In a flash of movement, he wrapped his hands around Minor's neck, jumped the table and pinned Minor against the wall. Minor's feet dangled inches from the ground.

"Tell me who killed my brothers and sisters."

"I can't, they'll kill me," he wheezed.

Killian stood. She wasn't sure what to do. She couldn't attack Dacon. She wouldn't stand a chance. As standard procedure, they had removed their weapons before they entered the interview room. She had nothing and she goddamn wasn't strong enough to take Dacon down. Besides, to interrupt him would attack his credibility. She had to let this play out and hope to God he didn't kill her only lead. She fingered the panic button under the table, just in case.

"Dacon!" she said sharply, wanting to remind him she was there.

"Let me handle this, Killian." His voice was low, dangerous, brooking no room for argument.

She nodded and eased back down into the chair. She trusted him, didn't she?

_Holy shit_ , he was scary.

He stepped closer to Minor and released his scrawny neck. Minor's knees buckled, he started to slide down the wall. Dacon grabbed him by the hair, held him up and angled his head. Dacon's fangs extended from his mouth. He inched closer and closer to Minor's jugular, until his mouth was a breath away from touching the exposed skin.

"I will kill you myself, Aaron," he murmured, "if you do not tell me who did this. Your death will not be pleasant. First, you will feel as if someone is ripping your heart out through your nostrils, then every organ in your body will stop functioning and finally your brain will shut down. This could take three to four minutes of suffering before you finally die."

_Oh, Christ_.

Aaron's scream stopped her from rising. "I didn't kill them. I swear. I made the medallions to track them, get to know their routines, was all. I didn't know they were going to kill anyone. This guy, he talked about a new race, all the good he was going to bring, how the treaty wouldn't be needed anymore, something about the impure weakening the strong. All my brothers were killed in that damn war, I was on board with him. I don't want to end up like them. Besides, he paid me good. Inactive hunter pay isn't shit, man."

"Who?" Dacon moved yet another millimeter closer.

"I don't know. I swear. They contacted me via an encrypted link on my desktop unit. I never knew who my connection was. They dropped off a Comm, it's in my room. I wasn't even there. You can have it. I was only in charge of designing the tracking devices and delivering the untraceable e-communiqué threat about the meeting. The guy told me he wasn't really going to kill their mates. I never talked to anyone after that." His shrill shriek reverberated inside the small room.

The words "deceptive" flashed across the vid.

"What threat?" Dacon tightened his hold and growled.

"The threat to get them to the meeting without raising suspicion. We threatened to harm their mates if they discussed anything or let on where they were going. How the hell was I supposed to know they would massacre all those vampires, man? It was simply a job to me. The guy said he was just going to invite them into his group and no one would be hurt. He swore to me we would all benefit from what he was doing."

"Deceptive. Deceptive. Deceptive", blinked on and off along the Vid.

Dacon hesitated. "You will pay," he whispered, then he sank his teeth into Minor's throat.

Minor gurgled out a cry, his hand flailing, trying to strike something. His blows fell short, then his arm went limp and dropped onto Dacon's shoulder.

Killian's shock froze her, unable to believe what Dacon was doing in front of her. Function returned with Minor's collapse, and she lurched up and took the short three steps to Dacon quicker than she thought possible.

"Dacon! Dacon! Holy shit. Stop!" She slapped her hand to his shoulder. She squeezed, fisting her fingers in the silk of his jacket. "Stop," she begged, but tugging him was like trying to move the Colossaldome. Letting go, she pressed the Comm attached to her ear. "Randy, get in here. Fast!"

Dacon released Minor, who collapsed into his chair as Randy barreled inside.

She nodded at Minor. "Get him out of here and over to med."

Randy gave one incredulous glance at Dacon before he hauled Minor to his feet and dragged him out the door.

Killian pressed the Comm again. It was time to call in some favors.

"Sie, call Cyber. Wake them up. Tell them to confiscate the desk unit and Comm from Aaron's room under the Terrorism Act and take it to control for analysis. Have them hold it for forensics until the warrant is clear. Transmit my request for the warrant to Judge Perkins. Tell him I'll follow up with the affidavit as soon as I can. Do it now!"

"Okay, Boss. Consider it done."

"Jinx, go with Randy to the hospital. As soon as everyone is patched up, transfer Minor into the Federal Marshal's custody. Tell them it's a protective detail under the TA. Then take a few hours downtime. All of you, until the warrant is cleared."

Dacon was dabbing blood from the side of his mouth with a handkerchief, as casual as if he had just eaten an opulent dinner.

She turned on him. "What the hell was that?"

"You told me to act like the bad cop." He slid the cloth back into his breast pocket.

"I told you..." She clenched her jaw. "I didn't tell you to kill the man."

Dacon straightened his jacket and smoothed his hair back from his forehead. "I only scared him. He'll be fine in a couple hours. I took his blood so, if needed, I could track him."

"How in the hell was I supposed to know you weren't making him your afternoon snack?"

His face flushed. He leaned in and crowded her. "Because I told you to trust me and I asked you to let me handle it."

She snapped her fingers. "Just like that, because you told me to trust you?"

"Just like that. In decision-making, I don't mess around. I'm not a wish-wash kind of man."

She didn't know whether to laugh or sob as her words boomeranged back at her. She fingered her temple. "It's wishy-washy." He gave her a blank stare. "The word is wishy-washy."

He smiled and touched her face, his dimple winked at her. His lids lowered halfway, his gaze unfocused, giving him a slumbering look, as if he had woken from a deep sleep. The red flush from his face extended down his neck. He didn't appear to be listening to her.

"I do thank you for reminding me to cease." His voice was husky and slow. "I haven't tasted human blood in a long time. The allure is difficult to resist; it's challenging to stop."

"What exactly does sucking human blood do to a vampire?" She realized she was straining toward him, but couldn't seem to back away.

"It stimulates us."

"Like you've had too much wine?"

"In a way." His fingers traveled from her cheek to her neck, where he brushed her pulsing vein.

"It makes you high." She heard her voice, breathless and unfamiliar. "Our blood makes you high?"

He pulled back and slid his hands in his pockets. She glanced down and her lips pursed into a silent whistle. Okay, by the looks of his erection, it made him more than high. She washed all the sexual reflection from her mind and tried to get back to business.

She whipped her head up. He raised a single brow.

"Yeah. Right. Maybe now is a good time...why don't we take a break?" She tried not to ramble, but the situation was impossible to ignore. Regrouping seemed like a good idea. "It's going to take a couple hours to process that warrant before we can break into Aaron's machine."

"I'll call Rurik," he said, following her into the office, "and have him take apart the medallion, find the tracking device Minor alluded to, see where it takes us, if anywhere."

She hooked up Wana. "Could you try to get me home at a decent speed?"

He shook his head as he guided her out the door. "I'm amazed a tough woman like you is afraid of a little speed."

"Afraid is really a nasty word."

He chuckled. "Like hack?"

"Exactly."

"As I have continually assured you. I'll get you there safely."

"Well, it doesn't hurt to remind you."

"No, it doesn't hurt."

* * * * *

"Damn it!" He drew back his arm and threw his remote Comm, striking the wall. The device shattered with a crashing bang, some splinters embedding themselves into the plaster while others went flying.

Picking up his desk Comm, he took a deep breath and beeped his Lieutenant. "Come to my office, please."

"Too close, they're getting too close," he muttered. The report he had just received was infuriating. If Killian Gray's squad pieced together any further evidence, it would accelerate his mission faster than he wanted.

He paced back and forth, trying to wrap his head around an alternative plan when Ryan entered. "You," he yelled and wrapped his hand around Ryan's neck. "I thought you said you were going to tie up the loose ends, not leave them to reveal our purpose." His Lieutenant grasped at the hand clutching his throat, his lips taking on an abnormal shade of blue as his face turned crimson red. Regret swamped him. He shut his eyes and let go.

"You can understand why I am upset?" He set Ryan down into a chair and smoothed his jacket.

"Yes, my lord," he wheezed, sucking in lungfuls of air. Sweat dripped down Ryan's face.

"Are you okay?" He gently wiped the wetness from Ryan's brow while he eased the hair back from his face.

Ryan gave an unsteady nod.

"You know I don't really mean to hurt you...my control—" He ran his thumb down Ryan's cheek and met his fearful blue gaze with his own.

"It's all right. I understand."

"I'm sorry, Ryan," he said softly. "I want everything to go as planned on this operation. You know how important this is to me, to all of us. Our higher purpose must not be compromised."

"I know, my lord. I will take care of this complication. You can count on me. Always."

"Thank you." Ryan's breathing steadied. "Meanwhile, I'm going to step up this operation. Call in the members. We need to have a meeting."

"Yes, my lord."

Chapter Fourteen

Sangerian Coven Blood Rules Descriptive Handbook page 29. The first mark of a vampire on a willing human will scar and be sensitive to the touch.

Dacon dropped his overnight bag on the floor of Killian's spare room. The area was dark, no natural light. Just the way he liked it. Because of her illness, Killian kept coverings on the main windows of the building, blocking the burning rays of the sun even in the full bloom of daylight, like now.

He dumped his coat, holsters and the knives from his ankle on the table next to the bed. Untucking his shirt from his slacks, he opened the buttons, a luxury for which he gladly paid extra. Although auto-zip vinyl was the fashion, he preferred the simple feel of the old-style buttons. Even when it came to weapons, he was a traditional kind of guy.

He took off the rest of his gear and eased onto the bed. Nice size. Usually he dwarfed the common bed, but this one held him with ease and then some. Leave it up to Killian to appropriately accommodate her guests.

Resting his hands on his chest, he tried to relax and let the deep sleep of his kind take him. He closed his eyes and drifted.

Shuffling footfalls grabbed him out of his slumber. He opened his eyes. Killian was coming out of the room off his, barefoot and beautiful. Desire coursed through his blood. She paused and rotated her neck from side to side. He recognized the pain lurking behind her action.

"There's a shower in there if you want to avail yourself," she said, peering through the doorway. He wondered if her eyesight was improved enough to see him or if she sensed he was awake. "I left you some fresh towels. I have my own water source, so I don't have to adhere to rationing. Enjoy a nice, hot, long one, on me." She reached up and rubbed her nape.

He sat up and patted the bed between his legs.

"Come. Sit. I will massage away your pain."

She licked her lips. "Ahhh, well, nah. That's okay."

"Come," he ordered as he beckoned her forward with what he hoped was a persuasive stare. "I'll be good, I promise." He flexed his fingers and wiggled them to show her what she was missing.

She let out an audible sigh, walked to the bed and sank down. Facing away from him, she sat cross-legged and fitted herself into him. He positioned his legs beside hers.

"Okay, but be good," she said.

"Of course." He was always good...although not necessarily the way she meant.

The position was intimate, her back against his bare chest, snuggled in the V of his legs. Her rose scent washed over him and he inhaled deeply, reveling in her smell and her slight weight against his skin. Still stimulated from taking a human's blood, he reeled in his restraint and held on to it hard.

It wasn't helping. His hands were steady, although he sure didn't feel that way. He silently admonished himself. She was in pain and he could help alleviate it.

"I am known for my massages." He dug his thumbs into the muscles of her shoulder and gently kneaded. She dropped her head back against his chest. He tucked her under his chin. Her hair was soft against his naked chest. He wanted to experience the feel of her, skin to skin. Something about her called to him, an allure he couldn't ignore.

"I bet you are. Especially with the women."

"Relax," he crooned against her silky hair as his fingers worked to loosen her tight muscles. His palms brushed the hardness of her holster. "Take this off."

She leaned forward to shuck the weapon, then her belt with her Comm. She placed it next to his on the table by the bed. The gold of their combined badges blinked at them.

"You know those blasters are banned for civilians?"

He slid his fingers up her spine. "Perhaps you could store the badge for a while?"

"Yeah, yeah, I hear ya," she grumbled and moaned at the same time.

Some of the stiffness eased from her body, and he smiled. "Let me relieve you. Let go." He lifted her hair, slid his hands into the dark mass and massaged her scalp.

"Ahhhh, Jesus. You should be illegal."

"So I'm told." His voice rumbled out on the tail of amusement.

His fingers walked over her shoulders. He pressed his thumbs in and nudged. She melted into him. He took a deep breath, damping down his response. His brothers would disagree, but a strong woman letting her guard down roused him a hundred times more than a Willing Donor.

"Where have you been all my life?" Her voice lowered, taking on a sleepy tone that hit him right in the gut with a sensual punch he couldn't deflect.

"Right under your nose."

She chuckled. "Literally."

"Literally," he echoed, the concept of him being underground—beneath her—amusing him.

They fell into a comfortable silence, him touching, her accepting; a relaxed companionship that felt as natural as breathing to Dacon.

"Are you trying to seduce me with your hands?" she finally asked.

When he dug into a hard knot of muscles, her head dropped to the side, the movement so seductive that his pulse pounded.

"Would it work?" His hands journeyed to her shoulders as he enjoyed the feel of her heated skin under his fingers. Her blood sang to him, a tune that made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

"Quite possibly. On that note," she uncrossed her legs, "I better go."

She pushed off the bed, turned and faced him. He followed her, sitting on the edge, legs spread. _Don't let her go. Do what you've wanted to do since the first moment you met her._ He shook his head at his inner voice. He didn't want her to leave. Didn't want to lose the closeness they had formed. This is crazy.

"Stay with me." He extended his fingers.

She ran a not-so-steady hand into her hair, sending the cascade of black settling around her shoulders. He saw the indecision in her face. She wasn't immune to what was happening between them.

"I can't. You know I can't." Even as she spoke words of rejection, she took a step closer, moving between his legs. Finally, her hand settled into his.

"You can," he murmured. He tangled their fingers. She leaned into his body. He wrapped his arm around her hips and tugged her the final inch. She bent over and rubbed her cheek against his hair. He hardened. His heart began a rhythm so fast that explosion seemed imminent.

How could this one woman affect him so strongly? He didn't understand it... But with her body resting in the circle of his arms, her scent creeping into his pores and her lips so close to his...the how or why didn't matter.

"You know this is Aaron's blood talking here, right? He's got you all hyped up."

She dipped her knees to align them better and nuzzled his cheek. He growled and turned his head to take her the way he wanted, hard, fast and deep.

Lips and tongues meshed, tasted, while hands touched. Breaths exhaled, fire burned and control shattered.

Killian buried her hands into Dacon's hair and ate at his mouth as if she was starving. God, he tasted incredible. She tilted back, took in a breath and tipped into him again. Her head was screaming _no, no,_ but her body had an entirely different chant, _yes, yes, take me, take me, make me yours._

She let her fingers explore his bare shoulders and drop to his tight abdomen. His skin was hard, yet so soft in some places. It had been so long since she felt the simple pleasure of touching another. They had been heading this way for a while. It felt good to give into her desire. She made up her mind, resolved in merging the yeses and noes into a positive.

Wait.

"Protection," she murmured as she fumbled with the button at the top of his slacks. She finally undid them and tried to push them off. The bed stopped her.

"Vampires are immune to disease and cannot breed with humans," he ground out as he ripped off her shirt and tossed it aside. He attacked her bra, disposing of it with a flash of his hand.

The man had fast fingers. He was making quick work of shedding her clothing. Where was the fire? _Oh yeah, between us_.

"Breed?" She lost the proper words when he reached for her breast. He drew a single finger around her areola, touching gently, circling it until he settled on her nipple and flicked back and forth.

"Ahhh." She pushed into his touch, wanting more, needing more.

"Vampires and humans cannot," he kissed her shoulder and licked his way to her collarbone, "reproduce."

His response stopped her _, cold_. Her half-lidded eyes snapped open. "No kidding?"

He lifted his mouth and made eye contact with her, his eyes fully dilated, his blue stare darkened to almost black. He was panting out short breaths, his face flushed. His thick hardness pressed against her leg.

"I do not kid." He returned his mouth to her skin, kissing, sucking and tonguing. Growling out the most sensuous sound she had ever heard, he lifted her by her ass, flipped their positions and plunked her back against the bed. He bent down and took her nipple into his mouth.

She dropped her hands to his head and arched up as he worked her. Heat ran from her toes to her breasts.

"Wait," she said, her voice breathless.

He lifted his head. His hair was in disarray, his mouth red and wet from their kisses, his chest rapidly rising and falling. He was by far the sexiest man she had ever seen. God, she needed him. _Anything_ he wanted...she would give.

"You're not going to bite me, are you?" Why was she bothering with these stupid questions?

He rolled his eyes and dropped his forehead to hers. "Killian, I am a vampire. In a state of heightened sexual awareness, yes, it's possible I will bite. Know this, I would never hurt you. With me, you will experience only pleasure. A bite can be...let me show you..."

As if to prove his declaration, he drew her nipple back into his mouth, tugged and pulled until she was crying out in sharp yearning. A white light formed behind her eyelids, a tease for what could come next.

She bowed up and sucked in a quick breath. He spanned his hands around her ribs and held her to his mouth. Then he did the same with her other breast, nipped, sucked, outlined with his tongue, taking her up until she didn't want to fall down. She was panting and squirming with need by the time he lifted his gaze to hers, challenging her with a single raised brow.

Had she ever wanted anything as much as she wanted him? She didn't think so.

"Are you willing?"

She almost laughed aloud at his question. He was so formal, his accent thickened, his manner switched to authoritative. He was asking her if she was willing to have sex with him. _How cute_.

She soothed a stray lock behind his ear and caressed his jaw. He tilted his cheek into her hand and closed his eyes. It was time to let go. Time to let her desire have its way. No matter what her brain said, she was going to give her body the win.

"I'm willing, Dacon."

His eyes popped open. Could he be surprised by her consent? His movements became hurried as he struggled with her pants until he slid them off, taking her underwear with them. She was naked, open and vulnerable to him. He glided his hands down her ribs, over her hips to her knees in one fluid movement, as if he was testing the feel of her skin and enjoying every inch.

The texture of his hands was rough, but the contrast of his skin against hers felt so right. His abdomen muscles flexed as he stood and stared at her. She came up onto her elbows.

"I want to see you naked."

Before she finished the sentence, he was shucking his slacks like a flame was licking at his fingers. When he dropped his pants, she had to keep her jaw from doing the same. He was...well... _huge_.

Then she noticed the scars. Some long, some short, some ragged, on his legs, knees, groin, all over his body. She'd examined many dead vampires, but not one had been so marked by old wounds.

He came down on the bed with her, holding his body suspended above hers. The veins of his muscled arms bulged with the effort. She caressed a nasty scar on his shoulder, above it was a beautiful tattoo of a delicate rose; the contrast deeply touched her. How could anyone hurt this man?

"Dacon." She kissed the jagged scar, traveled to his jaw, his cheek and, at last, settled on his lips. He kissed her back, tilting his head to take their mating deeper.

They danced that way until neither could breathe, until the need to move beyond a kiss made them stop.

It was a wholehearted mating in anticipation of what was to come.

Dacon lowered his arms until his body completely covered hers. Finally. He sighed when they touched. How he had longed to have her this way. Under him, writhing with need, calling out his name and focused only on him.

She slid her index finger down his jaw.

Her skin was silkier than the smoothest petal of a Sangerian rose, the softest Sabin fur. Neither compared to Killian.

"I must have you," he declared as he made his way down her body. He licked, kissed and laved to her stomach. She stroked him, her hand touching his back, his head, caressing his shoulder.

Her small touches were driving him wild.

Dipping further down, he delved into her heat and took what he wanted. He lifted her legs over his shoulders and tongued deeper. He could feel his canines elongating, preparing. This was the instant where the thin line of control was so easily severed, but never had he felt this overwhelming desire to make a human his before. This need, he hurt with it. Claim. He felt compelled to claim, had to take.

She arched and screamed out her climax. He lifted his eyes and watched her. He had never seen anything as beautiful as this woman in orgasm. They would do this again, he told himself, slower, longer...but not now.

He released her legs and climbed up her body. It was time.

Taking himself in hand, he poised at her entrance. He touched, stroked, made sure she was ready to take all of him. She was wet, her body flushed a pretty shade of pink, her eyes unfocused. He could smell her arousal.

"Dacon," she moaned.

"Yesss," he said as he entered her slowly, wanting to savor the moment, etch it into his memory. The first claiming of his mate, that's what was happening inside him. He could no longer fool himself. His body wanted hers like no other. Not for one night, not for one day, but for beyond time.

He slid himself into her fully. She was panting, her eyes closed while small beads of sweat caressed her brow. She was his.

"Killian, look at me."

She opened her eyes and focused on him. Yes, that was what he wanted.

"Say you're mine," he ordered. He couldn't comprehend what was happening here, he was running on an instinct older than time. He needed to hear her declaration.

"Dacon," her voice came out as a sigh, weak and sexy.

He reared back then slid in.

"Yes!" she cried out and arched into him.

"Say it," he demanded, and he moved in and out. She wrapped her legs around his ass, her arms around his back and she rode with him, until...he stopped.

"Say it." He held still, wanting her to know he wouldn't continue if he didn't get his way.

She tightened her legs. "I'm yours if you're mine," she breathed out.

He smiled and kissed her neck. He'd take it.

"I'm yours, Killian."

He drew back and pistoned in.

He had felt pleasure before. Sex with a female vampire was gratifying, but... His body had a mind of its own, claiming, taking. He slid in and out with a single-minded purpose...to take what he needed.

Hunger.

Suddenly, the blood hunger called to him. Gods, he had never had a craving like this. Sweat trickled down his forehead, dripping down the side of his face as he tried to rein in control. His heart was pounding, pounding. He sucked in a breath and tried to hold off. It wasn't working.

Nudging her neck, he licked the throbbing artery. Just a little, a little. He was climbing, his hips thrusting in and out. A tide of ecstasy rose up inside him. He couldn't push it down or make it slow.

He sank into her, both teeth and cock, taking the coppery taste of her in his mouth. His body nearly detonated with the shock of her blood running into him. She was there with him, inside him, touching her mind to his. Nothing, nothing would ever be the same again.

Worlds collided in an explosion of need.

Killian screamed with her second orgasm. When Dacon sank his teeth into her neck, she thought she was going to pass out in ecstasy. Nothing had prepared her for the shock of his possession. She was full of him, at one with him.

Then he sucked and she could feel his pleasure, her pleasure, everything became a jumbled mix of emotions. _What is happening?_ She held onto his shoulders and rode out the sensations up to his final thrust, his body going rigid.

"Killian!" He released her neck and roared her name out like an angry lion. Then he was there, tonguing her throat, caressing her cheek with his, and finally, claiming her lips.

She melted into him, their tongues dancing, her hands delving into his hair. He rolled onto his back, taking her with him, his arms curved around her, their lips joined. He pulled his head back, releasing her. His thumb skimmed her cheek. He tucked her hair behind her ear.

"Did I hurt you? Are you well?" he asked as he caressed her neck.

She shook her head. There was no pain, only pleasure. His simple touch on her neck brought her nipples peaking against his chest.

"Ahhh, noooo." She tried to hide the feelings, but couldn't keep them from spilling. "Not at all." She giggled. Oh God. She had never giggled in her life. How embarrassing.

"Sensitive?" He rubbed his thumb back and forth.

She tried to keep still, but it was as if that spot on her neck was directly connected to her sexual center. In response, she thrust her hips against him.

What was happening to her? She could feel him hardening inside her.

"Ya think?" she asked.

He laughed—a masculine, satisfied sound. His smell piqued her senses, man, spicy, uniquely his. She dropped her legs and straddled him, rising up, planting her hands hard on his chest.

He grunted.

"You seem very happy with yourself."

"Do I?" He drove up. She groaned.

"You did bite me," she reminded him.

He ran his hands up her back. She tingled, her body heating from the inside out. He tugged her head down to his and kissed her, again and again. She married her mouth to his and followed him.

"Did you feel pleasure from my mark?" he asked between nibbles, his voice low.

"Oh, yes."

He grasped her hips and thrust. She pushed back, the pleasure climbing with him under her, in her, filling her. She took a shaky inhale and began to ride.

"You are so beautiful, so responsive. I could do this all night." His hands traveled to her breast, where he played.

Her head dropped back. She closed her eyes and let the exquisite sensations take over.

He pinched, she gasped and rotated her hips, faster and faster. She dropped her body forward and drew his arms over his head, making him her prisoner. She joined their palms and clutched. His muscles bulged and stretched, but he let her have her way. She kissed him thoroughly, loving the softness of his lips, the feel of his hard body thrusting under hers. She liked the control he gifted to her and the touch of their hands, so intimate, so right.

"All night?" she asked.

"All night." He nodded.

"I'm enjoying you," she whispered, and she touched the corner of his mouth with her tongue, then outlined his lips. The opened-mouthed kiss following was so hot she was surprised the bed didn't light on fire.

"As I am enjoying you."

She met his gaze. His slumberous look was full of desire; he was holding back, she could feel it in her mind. Strange how they seemed so connected.

"Let go, Dacon. Give me everything you have."

A wolflike snarl came from deep in his throat. "Mine," he said.

He released her fingers, sat up and spread his hands over her hips. He took over, rocking her up and down. She ran her hands up his sculpted back until they clutched his head to her neck. He nuzzled, she inhaled and tensed, he kissed, she relaxed. Then he bit down and sucked. She screamed and instantly climaxed. He followed her over.

_Sex doesn't get any better than this_.

It took her a few minutes to come down.

"Is it always like that?" She was dizzy with sexual satisfaction.

He lay back down. Arranging her on top of him, he stroked her hair. She sprawled over him. Her limbs heavy, she rested her head against his chest. She heard the rapid thumping inside his chest subside to a steady beat. She felt safe in his arms, protected.

"I don't know."

She craned her neck up to stare at him. "What do you mean you don't know?"

He seemed uncomfortable with the question. "I have never been intimate with a human."

She opened her mouth, then promptly shut it. What could she say? Are you serious? Instead she rested her chin against his chest and watched him.

"I can tell you this." He ran his finger over her cheek. She enjoyed his small, heated touches, the sense of connection it gave her with him.

"Uh huh?"

"Nothing I have ever done has been like this." He licked his lips and lifted the corner of his mouth. Was that a smile she saw forming from her serious lover who had said he didn't "kid"?

"Nothing in a good sense or bad sense?" She cringed. She was full of stupid questions tonight. She wasn't sure why. They had had sex, just sex. Why muck up the waters with reassurance drivel? Still, she waited for his reply, her breathing shallow.

"Good. Very, very good." He slid his hand along her neck and fingered the spot where he'd bit her. At his touch, her heart seized, stuttered and sped up.

"Ahhh, mmmmm." She dropped her head to the side to give him better access. That place was obviously now an erogenous zone.

"My bite likes you." He chuckled.

She bared her teeth and tried to gain back the ground she'd lost. His smile grew, as if he saw through her act.

She sighed in defeat. "Everything I have likes you." She gave him the small victory.

"This pleases me, Killian. You please me." He wrapped a lock of her hair around his finger. She kissed his chin.

"Good." Yawning, she closed her eyes.

"Rest." He rolled to the side, taking her with him. Reaching down, he pulled up the comforter over their cooling bodies.

Sleep snuck up on her. She was exhausted. Nothing like fantastic sex to send her over the edge.

"You bit me twice, you...you...vampire." She tried to sound chastising, but the whole sentence came out like a teasing lover.

He let out a gruff laugh and wrapped her into his arms. "That's what I am. Glad you noticed. Rest for a while."

"'Kay."

The last thing she remembered, before sleep took her, was how good it felt to finally be claimed by him.

Chapter Fifteen

Sangerian Coven Blood Rules Descriptive Handbook page 430. The bond formed during The Sangerian Claiming Ceremony is too strong to break; therefore it will only be practiced with your future mate. For information on the ceremony see page 431.

Killian stretched, yawned and almost leapt out of the bed when she realized she wasn't alone.

Where was she?

Ahhh, Dacon.

She relaxed. Dacon was wrapped around her body, one arm to her waist, the other covering her torso with a hand cupped protectively over her breast. He was awake, very much so by the hardness caressing her leg.

What the hell had she done?

She turned in his arms.

"Evening," he said, then he smiled, the dimpled grin that made her think she was lost in him, no matter how many times she told herself she wasn't. Did he really need to look so good all the time?

"Most couples would say good morning." Her breath seized when he slid his body on top of hers and tongued her neck. Her hand fell to his hair and fisted in arousal. No more time for day-after-sex regrets here. He was moving in fast.

"We are not most couples." His voice came out low, sexy, laced with sleep.

He slid his hand down her leg, anchoring it behind him. He entered her slowly, as if he had all the time in both their worlds.

"Ahhh, Dacon." Gasping, she curved into his body.

_He's taking advantage of my drowsiness,_ she thought as her sex clenched his erection. Her heart kicked up a beat and began racing, her body on fire. He nuzzled her neck as he rode her, then licked the corner of her mouth when she panted.

She rotated her hips against his.

God, she loved the feel of him. He made her crave everything. From his smell, his skin—so soft, yet rough at the same time—to those masculine, moaning noises he made. He drove her crazy.

She clutched his muscled biceps. "Dacon!" she cried out.

He pulled out almost all the way, leaving her teetering on the edge, then he slipped back in.

He groaned when she tightened her legs around him.

"Come for me, Killian, join me."

Pushing her hips into him, she changed the angle, taking him deeper. His breath changed, sucking in. He made one of those moaning noises she so enjoyed. A tingle started at the base of her spine and crawled its way up. He slid his hands under her buttocks, lifting her into his thrusts.

Sweat dripped down his temple. She drew her tongue over the dampness, loving the salty taste of him.

He captured her mouth, tangling his tongue with hers, sliding in and out, mimicking the movements of his hips. She came with a long moan, tightening around him. He followed her lead.

"Killian!" he cried. Panting, he sank into her body one final time.

He sprawled on top of her, his racing heart slowing, his breathing deepening. She wrapped her legs around his thighs and her arms around his back. She wanted to hold onto him forever.

He lifted his head an inch. "How's that for a good morning or, in our case, evening?"

"We need to get out of this bed." She unwrapped her legs. They had work to do and if she cuddled here any longer with him, it certainly wouldn't get done.

His brow furrowed. He puffed out a breath and rolled, taking her with him, draping her body over his.

"I know," he said.

She flicked his chin with her index finger, hoping to tease him out of the reality of the responsibilities they both faced.

He arched a brow. The scar on his shoulder caught her eye. She touched the rough skin.

"Where did you get all these scars? I thought vampires regenerated?" She slid her hand down his torso to his leg, where she caressed one of the uneven ridges.

"Where do you get all these stupid myths from? We scar, just like you. If a wound is deep enough and bleeds long enough, it leaves a mark. I would think you, of all people, would know this."

She stiffened at the accusation in his tone. "I didn't kill vampires. I was appalled by the practice. My disdain for the hunter lifestyle separated me from my family." She didn't know why she was explaining herself to him. She pulled out of his arms and sat up, dipping her feet over the edge of the bed.

He let her go.

She inhaled and raised a hand to her pounding head. There were good days and bad days. Today was not going to be a good disease day, she thought, contemplating not rising. Her ears were ringing, and just below the surface of her skin, the tremors reminded her she wasn't well. Although she tried to control the shakes, her hand trembled. God, she was bad.

"Killian, what is it?" Dacon's arms curved around her from behind. His chest pressed against her back as he raised a hand to her brow.

"I'm fine," she snapped and felt him tense. Sighing, she eased up. "It's the same thing it always is."

He laid his head on her shoulder and hugged her close. "I can help you. If you let me."

Now it was her turn to stiffen. She didn't like the sound of that.

"My blood can temporarily heal—"

She shook her head before he finished. "No way, Dacon. No."

He rumbled a protest. "You won't be converted. It's a way—"

"I said no." She jerked out of his hold and slid off the bed. She swayed, bracing her feet to get her balance, and pointed a finger at him.

"I'm human. This is my problem, not yours. No." She pinched her fingers to the bridge of her nose to hold back the pounding pain coming from under her eyelids. Wana bumped her leg. She bent down and stroked her, leaning against her for stability. Wana could always sense when she was upset.

"This is my fault." His voice was harsh. "I shouldn't have taken your blood. What the hell was I thinking? I wasn't, that's the problem." He ran an unsteady hand through his hair.

Guilt ate at her. If a man could win a medal for looking tortured, it would go to Dacon.

Oh man.

She touched her neck. There was no pain there, only pleasure.

"Come on, Dacon. Blood is my area of specialty, not yours, remember. You didn't take enough to worry about. It would have regenerated within the hour. Do you honestly think this—" she touched her neck "is the reason I don't feel well? Or is it perhaps the incurable autoimmune disease I have?" At the end of her little speech, black spots floated over her vision. So much for that right eye, she thought, this could be the end of her reprieve. She took several deep breaths. Sometimes breathing helped.

Sometimes it didn't.

The black dots disappeared. Thank God.

His shoulders slumped. She slipped her arm around him and soothed her thumb over his cheek.

"Don't worry. I'll deal. I always have. Don't talk about healing me with your ways. I have my own. Okay?"

"I understand." He kissed her gently on the brow.

She shook her head. What was she going to do with this man now that she'd slept with him? He was way too hard to resist. Hating him was so much easier.

"Is this going to scar?" Trying to break the moment, she pointed at her neck.

His lips tightened and he cupped her chin, tilting her head to the side.

"My saliva was supposed to heal it. I don't know what...this might scar and the area is so responsive, odd...sorry..."

"That sounds like one of those myths I've heard about. Vampire's saliva heals unsuspecting woman's wound. She never knew what bit her."

He chuckled and brushed the area with his thumb. Heat ran through her. She yelped and stepped back.

"Do that again and we'll be right back where we started and get absolutely no work done."

He held up his hands in an admission of defeat. Her joking had softened the serious lines of his face. "That myth does happen to be true."

"See, and here you were giving me a hard time."

He captured her hand and brought it to his chest, it was hammering. She melted and sank onto his outstretched knee. He pushed her hair back from her face.

"I am sorry, my comments were uncalled for," he said, his expression contrite. He tilted her forward and softly kissed her. She ran her fingers into his hair and let the sensations of him surround her, his scent, the feel of him under her hands, the sound of his increased breathing.

Bad idea.

She leaned back.

"I know. Want to see what my shower has to offer? It's big and we can have all the hot water we want, one of the benefits of having an entire warehouse." She waggled her eyebrows up and down.

He slid his arms under her knees, cradled her and stood. "I would be very interested in seeing your shower." He carried her toward the bathroom.

"Jeesh, you don't have to carry me."

"Indulge me."

"If you insist." She rested her head against his chest. It felt good to lean on him, if only for a moment.

"I insist."

* * * * *

She was never going to allow him to help her.

Dacon tucked his shirt into his cargo pants.

He should have guessed she'd refuse his blood. Obviously what he had given her had helped for only a short time. He needed to get some more of it down her. The problem was...how? He donned his gear and flexed his shoulders, trying to relieve the tension pressing there.

Despite the shower—or because of it—he was wound tighter than an obsolete Altamont power generator during a windy day. Thinking of Killian's soft curves under his soapy hands, the heat of their bodies pressing together under the warm water stream, her moaning breaths when she came. He sucked in more air and tried to calm his pounding heart.

Their connection was stronger now. She was his. In the heat of passion, without even realizing it, he had claimed her in a vampire ceremony older than time. The claiming ceremony, verbal confirmation, during intercourse with your mate, of your mutual intentions.

Yet again he'd violated another Sangerian law. He rubbed his temple.

What the hell was he doing?

He had taken up with a human woman not listed in the Book of Willing Donors, the sister of the king of the hunters, and claimed her as his mate. Now he had an idea why the mark on her neck wasn't fading. The scar was a permanent reminder of his possession. It told the world he owned her.

Whether she admitted it or not, she had become a willing participant. She wanted him and now she had him, forever.

He was breaking Rules faster than the Sangerians could write them.

The ringing of Killian's Comm jolted him out of his reflections. He picked it up.

She strode out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around her hair and extended her hand. He passed it to her.

"Go." She paused, listening. "What? Shit. How many down?" She sank onto the bed and tugged the towel off, dropping it. "We'll be right there."

"What is it?" He slid on his jacket.

"Minor's dead, along with the two Marshals guarding him."

"Damn." Dacon clenched his jaw. Their only lead—gone. "Any idea who did it?"

"Nope. Let's go." She downed a couple pills, tucked her blaster into the holster and signaled for Wana. Her face was drawn, her color chalky and her eyes shadowed. Despite her warnings, he worried about her.

_Stubborn woman_. He picked up his bag and followed her out.

* * * * *

"Excuse the interruption." He jerked when Ryan appeared at his shoulder, whispering his name. Pivoting, he didn't like the uncertainty he saw in Ryan's expression. He set his project on the counter.

"We need to talk," Ryan said.

He made a motion with his head. Ryan followed him. Closing the door, he waved Ryan to the chair in front of his desk. The sanitized white walls of his office made Ryan's pasty pallor seem normal.

"The complication has been dealt with. However—"

Ryan ran a hand over the healed wound on his neck.

"What is it?" He tried to keep the edge from his words, however, he didn't quite succeed.

Ryan visibly gulped as his eyes jumped up.

"I'm not one hundred percent sure all the loose ends have been dealt with. I'm wary of the team working this case."

Fingers steepled under his chin, he sank into the black leather chair. Ryan was talking in code. He had concerns Killian Gray's team was closer than they planned. He mentally told himself to remain calm and control his demon.

"Move into phase two. Alert the others."

Ryan inclined his head and rose. At the door, he stopped him. "Ryan."

"Yes, my lord." Over his shoulder, Ryan met his gaze. His hand trembled on the doorknob.

"Well done." Ryan grinned and departed.

This was a complication he should have expected. He wasn't surprised. Gray's team had shown themselves to be of above-average intelligence. He unlocked the bottom drawer of his desk and withdrew a metal box. Turning on his computer, he activated the program Minor had designed.

It was time.

Chapter Sixteen

Sangerian Coven Blood Rule number five hundred eighty-two: Protection of chosen mate is mandatory at all times.

The crime scene was a flurry of activity, the flashing lights of the local police, the subtle black PVs of Federal vehicles, uniformed officers milling around. Killian marched right up to the front of the modest two-story house with an aura of authority that tolerated no question. Dacon admired her commanding presence. On the fringe of a disease sucking out her life force, she was fighting with everything she had to act normal.

She flashed her ID at the officer. Sie and Randy trailed her inside, along with a couple people Dacon hadn't met. Jinx set herself up at the door. The stench of death caught him before he stepped over the threshold. He grimaced. Death was a smell he could never forget.

The two strangers began removing equipment from bags and sketching the scene with an imagegraph and PDA. The flash of the image camera didn't surprise him.

Killian and Dacon swept the house to survey the initial crime scene, then headed toward the room where Minor's body was lying.

"The killer didn't wait around to position these." Killian inclined her head toward the body. Minor was crumpled on the brown carpet, blood pooled around his head. Shot point-blank in the brain. He didn't have a chance.

"No struggle. No defensive wounds." Dacon knelt beside her.

"Makes you think he knew the guy who shot him in the brain." Her expression was stern. "The two U.S. Marshals in the other room were disposed of in a similar fashion."

"Didn't even have a chance to draw their weapons," Dacon said. "The killer struck fast."

"Sweep it, let's see if we can pick up any trace," Killian ordered one of the men.

Sie hunkered down on her other side.

"How long had he been here before the killer struck?" she asked.

He shook his head. "No more than three hours. We finished up at the hospital and brought him over."

"Christ. How did they know?"

Dacon examined Minor's body, trying to pick up a clue.

Randy knelt down next to Sie. "The killer must have followed him." Randy shrugged. "His takedown wasn't exactly quiet. We might not have noticed if we picked up a tail." He fingered the wound on his forehead.

"Did we hit Minor's room?"

"Yep, the computer's already at the lab. They're working on it."

"What about surveillance from here?"

"Wiped out."

"This appears to be another exploding bullet." Dacon pointed at Minor's wound. "Same as the other bodies. I can tell by the size of the entry wound."

She nodded. "I'd say we have the same killer here. He or she wanted to shut Minor up."

"Clearly." Dacon stood. Sie and Randy also rose. Reaching down, he offered his hand to Killian. She grabbed it and he pulled her up.

The touch of her skin sent images of their lovemaking flashing through his mind. He wanted to go back to bed with her, but he reluctantly released her hand. She was a distraction and he needed to stay focused. People were being killed.

Jinx approached them. "Chance is outside asking to come in. Well, kind of demanding it. Wouldn't take no for an answer." She ran a hand along the side of her face. "He's pretty angry."

Killian nodded. "Let him in."

Chance entered the sparsely furnished room. He looked like he was ready to strike first and take names later. With the exception of their hair color, Dacon was hit with how much Chance resembled his sister.

Killian and Chance squared off like a pair of prizefighters before the final battle.

"Killiana."

"Chance."

"Would have been nice if you had told me before you took Aaron Minor, my hunter, into custody and invaded my building." Chance pushed up into her face.

"I don't owe you anything." Killian bared her teeth like she was going to bite Chance.

Dacon stepped between them. "This happened fast. We didn't have time to stand on ceremony." He slapped his hand against Chance's chest and shoved him back a foot, away from Killian. She was his now, under his protection, and no one would threaten her, not even her brother.

Anger flared in Chance's eyes. Batting Dacon's hand off his chest, he glared...then walked around them toward the dead hunter.

"Don't touch anything," Killian cried after him.

They both watched as Chance knelt next to Minor's body and bowed his head. His hands curled into fists, his shoulders tensed. A sound came out of his throat, more anger than grief. Then he leapt off the floor and flew toward Killian in a rush of power.

Dacon stepped in front of Killian and Chance ran into him, a clash of muscles and man. Randy jumped over Minor's body and grabbed Chance from behind. A force field of Randy's muscled arms kept Chance back.

"You killed him," Chance growled.

Killian stepped up and poked him in the shoulder. "His actions were probably the reason he was killed. Want to tell me why one of your hunters was making tracking devices for the killer of those fourteen vampires? The same device found in three of their rooms."

Chance stopped struggling. "What?"

Dacon nodded at Randy. With a frown of reluctance, Randy released Chance and stood back.

"You heard me," Killian said. "I don't think I stuttered."

Chance brushed out the wrinkles in his jacket and stood tall. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Look, Chance, either you cooperate with us on this investigation or I'll throw you in jail for obstruction. It's your choice. Your hunters are deep into something here and it's my job to find out why. You have one death on your conscience. Do you want more?"

His shoulders dropped and he ran a hand over his shadowed jaw. "No, no, I don't.

"Then let's work together, not against each other. We need to interview any friends or family of the victim." She tilted her head toward Minor. "And we need full access, surveillance and Cyber."

Chance opened his mouth, then shut it. "Fine, we need to get with my cyber tech, Sara, she'll help us."

"I'll send Jinx and Randy with you."

He nodded.

Sie came around the corner holding an evidence bag. "Any idea what this is?" He twirled the see-through plastic in a circle.

Dacon's heart seized. He knew what the hard, oblong card was and exactly what it was used for.

Killian stepped forward and studied the bag.

"No idea." She moved it in several different directions.

"I do."

All eyes turned to him. He held out his hand and Sie passed him the evidence.

"I'll need to talk to you, in private." He stared at Killian.

She dipped her chin in agreement. "Jinx, Randy, accompany Chance back to NFA. Interview as many people as you can who are connected to Minor and collect the surveillance feed for last night and the night we were there. Sie, get these bodies to the lab. Let's see if they can give us anything."

The room emptied. Killian arched a brow at him. "Let's hear it." She tipped her finger toward the bag.

"It's a card that stores credits to be used on purchases in our stores, bars, you get the idea."

"Whose is it?"

Dacon studied the numbers running across the bottom. "It's Byron's."

"Shit." She picked up the bag and glared at it. "Could have been planted. Seems someone wants Byron involved in these murders awfully bad."

"I know. I'm going to have to call Roman and bring Byron in."

"Where's Byron now?"

"Last time he checked in, he was watching that warehouse. He might have retired to his apartment. He wouldn't like to be out during the day." He grabbed his Comm.

Killian stopped him with a clasp of his arm. "We'll find out what's going on." Her concerned tone calmed him. This was a nightmare, to even think Byron was involved in these murders had his head pounding.

He nodded. "I know. I just don't...Byron's my brother and I know him. He would never hurt one of our own or kill a hunter and jeopardize the treaty."

She slid her fingers into his and tangled them. "We'll get to the bottom of it." Their contact made him feel better. Her support was invaluable. He was coming to rely on her for it.

He lifted the Comm to his ear. She was right, they dammed well would get to the bottom of this.

"Roman," he said when his brother answered the Comm. "I need you up here."

Chapter Seventeen

Sangerian Coven Blood Rules Descriptive Handbook page 435. A Sangerian Coven bond mate must be revered above all others.

Killian dipped her head to acknowledge Roman as he strolled past her desk, following Byron and Dacon into the interview room. Another attractive Sangerian. Didn't they come in any other flavor but _hot?_

Roman had arrived up top fifteen minutes after Dacon called him, tagging along with Dacon back to Killian's office. Byron was quick to follow, sauntering into her office within five minutes of their arrival. She glanced at the three of them taking their seats in the interview room, a formidable group.

Trying to concentrate on her case, she forced her gaze away and integrated the files from Dacon's PO and her 9500, setting the 9500 in the cradle that linked it directly to her desk unit. She wanted to get the data processed from the G-profiles on file from the Coven with the occupation list Dacon had provided her. This was the first chance she had to use her computer since she'd returned up top. She needed to take advantage of it and get to work.

"Computer, compile designated files. Cross-check against occupation list for irregularities. Tell me who's missing G-profiles," she ordered.

"Complying," the computerized voice chimed back at her.

Sie planted his hip on her desk. "Minor's computer was clean. As soon as we accessed it, a law enforcement elimination program wiped out all the data. This wasn't any old program...this was pretty sophisticated, with handwritten code. If Minor had the ability to build that level of code, likely he could access the hi-res computer that Chance bragged was non-hackable and alter his own log and maybe others. This could make it impossible to track him."

"Great." Killian leaned back in her chair and studied the digital monitor for the interview room. The Sangerian brothers were talking and it didn't seem to be a happy family reunion. From watching their sharp gestures and darkening complexions, she guessed they were having a good old-fashioned argument. She hoped they didn't mess up her interview room.

"What about his Comm?"

"We did get the Comm he referenced. Most the calls weren't remarkable, except one number. When the techs tracked the subscriber data and tower, they found the signal was being bounced off a satellite, then hit a station in R. Mexico. Non-traceable. Subscriber, John Doe."

"You've got to be kidding me?" She threw her pen onto the table and buried her hands into her hair.

"We're not dealing with the garden variety criminal here, are we?" Sie rubbed a hand over his jaw. His eyes were red-rimmed and he carried an expression of pure exhaustion.

She took pity on him. "No, we're not. Go home, Sie. Get some rest. We'll pick this back up after everyone's had some sleep. I'll see what the vamps got." She flicked her finger toward the monitor. "Touch base with Randy and Jinx. See if they have anything. We're right back where we started. A whole lot of nothing."

Sie stood and stretched. "I'm a Comm call away. You doing okay?" He placed his hand on her shoulder and squeezed.

She smiled at him. Good old Sie. What would she do without him?

"Killian." Dacon stood at the side of her desk as if he materialized out of a cloud.

She jumped, then cursed. He was glaring at Sie like he wanted to hurt him.

"I'm fine." She waved at Sie. "Go."

Not moving, Sie glanced between Dacon and her.

"Go," she repeated, her clipped voice making it an order. He slid his hands into his pockets, nodded and strode off. She made eye contact with Dacon.

His blue eyes unwavering, he stared her down. Looking at him in his tight black T-shirt and cargo pants, his hair mussed, she melted inside. He was so damned sexy. She stiffened her spine, reminding herself that this was her office, her investigation and she was the one in charge.

"What's up?"

"I'm taking Byron back to the Coven. He's too exposed here. That way we can track his movements."

"Give him an alibi if there are any more murders, you mean?

He took Sie's place on the edge of her desk. "Yes." He didn't explain himself further. He didn't have to. She understood his need to protect his brother.

"What's the story with Byron's card on the crime scene?" she asked.

"It disappeared a couple weeks ago. He didn't think anything of it. He's been up top, so he hasn't needed to use it."

"Here, I'm done with this." She slid his PO across the desktop.

He tucked it into his pocket.

"Any alibi for the day of the murders?" she asked.

He shook his head. "Nothing we can verify. He met with you that evening. Before Jinx called him, he was in his apartment all day. Alone. Sleeping."

Killian dropped her head into her hands. "That's convenient. I smell a handy setup here. Normally, I would have to take him in to custody. But I'm assuming you can handle that."

"I'm taking him and will return him to the Coven. He will not be allowed to leave, I assure you of this. Roman would like to speak with Chance. Ensure the truce is still holding. He's heading over there. I haven't heard from Rurik on the medallion, so I'll check to see what he's discovered."

"Did Byron find anything at the warehouse he was watching?"

"Nothing, it was quiet, no one came or left. Abandoned."

"You must have two very unhappy brothers right now."

He shrugged. His eyes followed Sie as he packed up his briefcase and hauled it off his desk.

"You are very close to Sie?"

The path of her eyes followed his. Sie raised his hand. "Later," he called out.

She lifted hers in return. "Bye, Sie." The door snapped shut behind him.

She refocused on Dacon. "Huh?"

Dacon seemed to be struggling with his words, emotions flickering across his face too fast for her to read.

What is going on with him?

"You and Sie are close?" He took a deep breath and met her gaze.

"What? Oh. You mean close, like intimate?" If she didn't know any better, she would say Dacon was jealous. The notion gave her warm fuzzies. She quirked her lips in a smile.

Dacon scowled, picked up the pen from her desk and began twirling it between his fingers. He was trying to act casual, but she knew better. He was as casual as a bee about to sting.

"You're jealous of Sie?" Her voice rose in a question.

He dropped the pen and crossed his arms. "I'm not... It's just...well...perhaps I am." He ran his hand around the back of his neck. "This is a very foreign emotion for me, not comfortable."

She stood and slipped between his legs. His hands fell to her hips and gently caressed. She kissed his cheek. He let out a noise between a growl and a groan. She inhaled quickly. It was too soon after making love with him to be this close. _Dangerous territory._ She could see herself losing track of the investigation to spend a couple hours in bed with him.

"Jealousy is an ugly emotion, but you wear it well. To answer your question, no, I'm not involved with Sie. Not in that way. He's my friend, like a brother. Don't worry."

He nuzzled her chin with his mouth, traveling until their lips meshed. The kiss moved from sweet to hot, mouths opened, tongues stroking. Dacon devoured her. He clutched her hips, his hand fisting on her pants. She leaned forward and pressed her body against his, her arms wrapping around his shoulders.

Her own moan kicked her out of the sensual haze he had woven. Took her a minute to remember where she was. She jerked her head from his. He trailed his lips down her neck...

She hissed out a breath and took three steps back. "Go there and we go nowhere." Once he started in on that sensitive spot on her neck, she would melt into a puddle of need.

He chuckled. "Sorry."

_He wasn't sorry._ "Take Byron home. I'll call you later."

He sighed and straightened. Closing those three steps between them, he slid a hand over her hair.

"Get some rest," he ordered.

"I will. I have a couple things to do here, crunching some data, then I'll head home. I'll update you where we're at in the investigation next time we hook up."

"We'll hook up soon." He wasn't asking, he was telling.

She shivered. He sounded so territorial. Usually she would put a stop to a man who wanted to control her, but she liked the feeling of belonging to him.

"Yes, we'll hook up soon."

He slid his hands into her hair, angled her head and tugged her in. She started to pull back, but when his mouth settled on hers, the heat of his body penetrated and she melted against him, all thoughts of leaving his arms vanished.

He nibbled slowly, tenderly. She followed his lead until he opened her mouth with his tongue and delved in. Her heart was pounding, anticipating the pleasure he always gave her, his muscles hard under her fingers. His scent, everything about him, turned her on and propelled her body into a path she had no business going.

Feeling the sexual hunger for him well up, she eased back. She trailed her hand over his temple and into his hair. She enjoyed the feel of him, his reaction to her touch, the way he sucked in a swift breath. He tipped his head, his eyes at half-slumber, dark with his desire. She licked her lips, he groaned. She shook her head.

"You need to go."

"I know." He eased his hands away and dropped them to his side, but didn't move.

"You need to go," she said again.

He puffed out a breath. "I'm going." He took a step away, then pivoted back. "Call me when you get home."

"Fine." She should be irritated. This hunger, it was so all consuming. Obviously she wasn't the only one bitten by the lust bug. Literally. She chuckled silently at her joke.

"Promise."

"Dacon." She closed the distance between them and tickled his fingers with hers. "I'll call you."

"Okay. I'm going."

She rolled her eyes. _Hadn't he already said that?_ "Go." She shooed him with a sweep of her hand. He smiled, that cute dimple making her heart seize.

In a move too fast for her to stop him, he tugged her back into his arms. He placed his hands on the sides of her head and tilted it, exposing the length of her neck. Then he licked the sensitive area that seemed to be a trigger to her sex. His breath panted against her skin, his tongue laving a cool wet track in the heat.

She shivered in arousal and emitted a moan, her head dropped back in surrender. His sensual power held her in a flash of passion, making her wet. Her nipples peaked and time came screeching to a stop.

"Daaaacon." She couldn't believe a sound so needy could whimper out of her, but it did.

"Say you're mine," he growled, his fangs prickling her neck.

She jerked in surprise. _Holy Shit_. What was happening here? Her mind screamed caution, but her body had an agenda of its own, arching against him, asking for more.

He nipped, licked and kissed until she sagged into his embrace, wanting to fall to the floor with him. Although her knees buckled, he held her up.

"I'm yours," she whispered.

He lifted his lips and rested his forehead against hers, his breath sucking in and out, his face flushed and his lips wet. He held her until she could stand on her own.

"And I'm yours." He gave her the same commitment back.

"Thought you were leaving?" She tried to act normal, but she felt as if she had just run a marathon.

"Right. I'll go get them." He ran a shaky hand through his hair and turned to leave. Killian slumped into her chair and watched him go. She wanted to cry out for him to stay. Wanted to drag off every inch of his clothing and have her wicked way with him. Wanted to taste every sensitive spot on his body.

She fingered her neck and shivered. Great time to get unfocused, she thought, as she dropped her hand and tapped at her Braille computer keys so it would at least look like she was doing something besides daydreaming about Dacon. Boy, did she have it bad.

Byron and Roman followed Dacon out of the interview room.

"Thank you, Dr. Gray. For everything you've done." Roman placed a hand over his heart and dipped a formal bow toward her.

She nodded back at him. He was a piece of work, so proper, reminding her of a knight from the ancient days. He was another blond Sangerian god. His hair longer than Byron's, he wore it smoothed back from his face. His look was more distinguished than Dacon's modern style, but still charismatic. Something simmered beneath the surface of his ceremonial public image that she couldn't pin down, a wound so deep she wasn't sure it would ever heal. She remembered Dacon telling her about Roman's wife. No wonder she sensed such unease in him.

"It's my pleasure," she said. "Good luck with Chance."

"I will keep Dacon informed of the progress." He rested his hand on his brother's arm.

"I hope this hasn't weakened the treaty." She stopped the pretense of typing and made eye contact with him. By his tense expression, she knew she wasn't the only one who wanted the treaty to hold.

"I hope this as well."

"Please contact me if you need anything. I'll call Randy and Jinx and ask them to meet you at Chance's. It will be good for you to make contact with them."

"Thank you."

"Byron." She extended her hand toward her source. He shook it. "Stay out of trouble, okay?"

He winked at her. "House arrest underground, not my idea of a good time."

"Byron." Dacon's rumbled warning made him shrug, his expression sheepish.

"Kidding, bro."

Dacon inclined his head toward Killian. "Later," he remarked as he dragged Byron toward the exit by the arm.

As they left, Killian heard Byron say, "Nice hickey, bro."

"Shut up," Dacon snapped.

Placing her hand over Dacon's bite, Killian laughed, feeling lighthearted when normally she'd felt the world was crushing down on her. Then she reminded herself she had a job to do.

Her smile turning to a frown, she flipped open her Comm and dialed Jinx.

* * * * *

Two hours later, Killian was unhappily dictating away, her frown deepened. She hated paperwork. After listening to the playback of her affidavit, she transmitted it. If the judge who granted Minor's warrant didn't get the paperwork within twenty-four hours, her ass would be his.

"Compilation complete." Her computer dinged out an automated response.

Crap, she had almost forgotten about the G-profile list she had tasked the computer to analyze. Dacon had distracted her.

"Computer, report results."

"There are six irregularities in the data. G-profiles are not on file for the following occupants of the Sangerian Coven--Ryan Faller, Celia Harmon, Stuart Gorman, Rex Karna, John Ricker and Rurik Sage."

Killian's mouth dropped open. Rurik, now there was a name she recognized. Why wouldn't he have a G-profile on file? How odd.

"Computer, transfer list to PO, Dacon Sangerian."

"Transfer complete."

Her Comm beeped.

"Hey, Jinx. What's up?" Killian hooked up Wana as she opened the line to Jinx.

"Killian, we have something weird in the surveillance video you wanted us to review at NFA. From the night we came."

"What is it?"

"Someone Chance doesn't recognize, not a hunter, but he did visit Minor. The video shows this stranger coming and going from Minor's apartment. Hard to see his face, though, he's wearing a wide-brimmed hat. I ran him through feature recognition at HQ, nothing. It's like he doesn't exist. Maybe you can take a look?"

"Sure, send it to my 9500 and a copy to Dacon's PO. We'll see if he knows who it might be."

"Sounds good."

Killian slammed her hand on her desk. She should have gone with her instinct that night when she saw the aura. It had been a vampire. She knew it.

Her 9500 beeped.

"Computer, access recent file. Display."

"Displaying." She squinted her right eye and tried to focus with her left. Damn, so dim. She couldn't tell.

"Computer, enlarge and brighten, enhance and clean pixilation."

"Complying."

Man, oh man. If she had to guess, she would say the person in the surveillance image, including the hat, looked suspiciously like the man she had seen the other day. Who it was still remained a mystery, but he had to be a vampire.

Okay, too many coincidences.

"Jinx, is Roman there?"

"He's with Chance."

"Can you get him and have him watch this? I think this is one of his own. I'm going to get a hold of Dacon."

"Sure, no problem. I'll hit you back."

Killian picked up the office Comm and dialed Dacon. He didn't answer and she finally clicked into his voice mail.

Damn.

She left him a quick message.

Her Comm beeped.

"Yeah, Jinx."

"Killian, Roman says the subject looks like Ryan Faller, a young vampire in the Coven. He's heading back there now. He has a helo-jet." Envy throbbed in Jinx's tone.

"I know. Ask Roman if he'll swing by and pick me up. If you're finished there, go home. I'll contact you if anything happens."

"Seriously?" Jinx asked.

"Yep. I'm going to place an all-points on Ryan to bring him in for questioning. Armed and dangerous. Let's try to stay ahead of the game here."

"Just a minute. I'll ask now." In less than that, Jinx returned. "Chance said Roman will be there in five minutes."

Killian took the time to place the arrest alert. The building was vacant this time of night, so she didn't have to worry her fellow agents would freak when a Class A landed on the roof. Another perk to working the night shift. She grabbed Wana and headed to the elevators.

When she arrived on the helo-pad of the building, Roman was waiting for her. He hopped out of the jet and helped her into the passenger side, Wana sitting behind her. She and Roman slipped on headsets that would block out the noise of the plane and allow them to talk. Roman swooped them off the roof, his speed reminding Killian of Dacon in his Panera. She grasped the side handholds and held on.

"I see Byron is not the only one with a license to fly?"

"Nope, we're all certified in this jet."

"Did you reach Dacon?"

"Yes, he'll be waiting for us?"

"Did he secure Ryan?"

"No, Ryan is gone, along with the other five people from the list you sent him. Our biggest concern right now is Rurik."

"Shit. I guess we've just been given a huge clue. If he can get me descriptive data and pictures on these individuals, I'll place an arrest alert. That's about the best I can do up here."

"I know. He'll be waiting for us. We'll form a search plan."

"Everything okay with Chance and the hunters?"

"Everything is okay right now. But our relationship has become strained. He has recalled all the hunters and has them on standby. Just in case. That's over three hundred hunters."

Great, she thought. All the more reason not to go underground for a while.

But that's exactly where she was heading.

Chapter Eighteen

Sangerian Coven Blood Rule number two: Blood is the life of the clan. Protect the privilege of your vampire heritage by abiding by all The Sangerian Coven Blood Rules or face the consequences.

Dacon stood at the command of the operation center. Activity swirled around him. Two of his security personnel were zipping through the digital surveillance video, trying to track the man he was most concerned with, Rurik, and his departure from the Coven. The other two were out, interviewing family and friends for insights into why the group of vampires had turned bad. In the conference room, Byron worked the main computer.

The door slid open. When Roman escorted Killian and Wana in, Dacon sighed with relief. Without her, a piece of his soul was missing. He watched her let out a slow whistle as she turned in a circle.

"Nice digs here, Commander Sangerian. Looks like something out of the old Star Trek movies." She winked at him.

Dacon followed her gaze. Multiple digital monitors blanketed the room, along with the blinking of lights for each corresponding system with its operational component controls. Environmental systems, ZAT lifts, overall public and property surveillance, the shops and bars, it all happened from this room. He could watch anything, except the private quarters, with the touch of his fingers.

Dacon took her arm and escorted her to the small conference room where Byron hunched over the computer. It was wall-to-wall glass, allowing visitors in the room to see everything around them. Roman trailed behind them. Byron glanced up from his computer and nodded at them.

"I received your messages." Dacon guided her to a chair and unhooked Wana.

"Update me," Roman said as he eased himself into the seat across from Killian and next to Byron.

Dacon seated himself next to Killian, sliding into the high-back leather chair. He leaned back and activated the conference room vid-viewer. It slid down from the ceiling. He clicked it on. Images of the six suspects flashed across the vid.

"As soon as I received Killian's message, I searched the Coven for the six individuals. They are all gone." Dacon flipped through images of the group leaving the Coven. "These were taken by the surveillance cameras. They weren't cunning about leaving. Didn't try to mask their identities. I'm assuming Rurik realized he was close to being caught. He was downright arrogant about his departure."

The vid showed Rurik leading the group to the surface elevators. As they exited the lift, he turned to the camera, placed a fist on his heart and bowed.

"I had already given him the medallion and told him we found another up top," Dacon said, his hands clenched. "He had to have known we were close enough to track it back to him. I'm sure he instigated the killing of Minor. It would be easy enough to follow your people after they picked Minor up, especially if they weren't watching for Ryan Faller. It's clear Ryan and maybe others in the group have been going up top without my permission, and short of the surveillance, I have no way of tracking them."

"You don't have those secular devices on all your people?" Killian sounded incredulous.

"Killian, do you place a tracking device on every human?" He tried not to be defensive, but damn it, she needed to get rid of some of her preconceived notion about the vampires.

"No."

"Neither do we. We have a system here. I have over two thousand vampires to track, as well as the Willing humans and a staff of four people. We've never had any issue with people following the Rules when they went to the surface. This level of lawlessness hasn't been a problem. Why would I tell my people I don't trust any of them by injecting a tracking device? Roman and I are the only two who are at the most risk."

"Hey, okay, don't kill the messenger." She held up her hands.

"Sorry," he muttered.

"Do we have any idea what his motivation is?" Roman asked.

Byron piped in. "I retrieved all the data I could from his lab and personal computer. As soon as I accessed it, the information was wiped clean with a program I've never seen. So were the other five suspects' computers and POs."

"Minor," Killian interjected. When they all turned toward her, she elaborated. "Minor had a similar program. I assume he wrote it himself and shared with the others."

"Why?" Roman asked.

Killian fingered her 9500. "I'm thinking Rurik wanted to restart the war. That must have been why he killed the converted vampires, thinking the deed would bring back hostility. He also wanted to involve the hunters, or he wouldn't have worked so hard to find a rogue who could be easily swayed with credits, high ideals and to set up Byron. This has to be personal for him. Remember what Minor said, Dacon." Frowning, she tapped her 9500. "Let me play this digital recording back from Minor's interview." Minor's whiny voice projected in the room.

" _This guy, he talked about a new race, all the good he was going to bring, how the treaty wouldn't be needed anymore, something about the impure weakening the strong."_

"And this part," Killian said.

" _We threatened to harm their mates if they discussed anything or let on where they were going. How the hell was I supposed to know they would massacre all those vampires, man? It was simply a job to me. The guy said he was just going to invite them into his group and no one would be hurt. He swore to me we would all benefit from what he was doing."_

"The impure weakening the strong. Killing the converted humans. Why, that is the question, isn't it?" Dacon asked as pictures of Ryan, Celia, Stuart, Rex, John and Rurik flashed on the screen.

"And why these six vampires?" Killian frowned harder. "Send me as much identifying data you have on these guys and I'll get it out on the street. At least that way, if they show up in a covered area, we can grab them. I'll also transmit the info to Chance. He can question his remaining hunters, see if anyone has had contact with these dudes." Killian gave her 9500 address.

Byron made a few taps of the keys. "Done."

Killian leaned over her 9500, her fingers clutched on the stylus, and she tapped away.

"I'm working the background of these six," Byron flashed various pictures of the six as they assembled before leaving the Coven. On each encounter, Rurik clearly was giving the orders. "We're interviewing as fast as we can, trying to determine Rurik's plan, attempting to track their movements with the surveillance system. It's clear by the dynamics of the group, Rurik's the leader."

"They're young, impressionable...soldiers," Killian said softly. "Young soldiers are easily swayed by a purpose they think is righteous and effortless to control. Assuming it was Rurik, Minor referred to, which I think is a safe notion, Rurik talked about a new race. Has he ever voiced any concern about the treaty?"

Roman ran a hand over his face as he answered. "He wasn't pleased about the lab spending more time making synthetics. He grumbled now and again about resources. The Book of Select and Willing Donors is not as plentiful as we would like and so many vampires switched to the shots. Synthetics are easier, since we no longer have open access to the surface to feed. He also made noises when we allowed humans to convert because they couldn't breed. I didn't think anything about it. He likes to complain. I thought it was healthy." He pressed his fingers against his temple. "I'm sure if I check, I'll find the other five have similar complaints logged with the Council. We had a lot of screaming when the treaty was implemented. People thought it repressed our freedom. Many vampires weren't happy about the change, but we worked through it. We've had it in place now over fifteen years. I should have paid more attention to the complaints." His shoulders slumped.

Dacon could see his brother's guilt over the turn of events. "Roman, there's no way you could have known this would happen." He could tell Roman wasn't listening to him by the glassy-eyed expression on his face. He knew how seriously his brother took his responsibilities.

Byron brought some schematics up on the vid. "One of Dacon's Security Officers interviewed the other lab techs. Seems Rurik's been working on a device under the L-radar for some time now. No one knows what it is. They didn't question him. He was the boss, so everyone just hung back, assuming he was working on a secret project for Roman. Could be a weapon."

A strange-looking gun circled around the screen. The room was silent. Dacon glanced at Killian. Her expression was as grim as he guessed his must be.

"This was the best description we could get," Byron said, breaking the tense silence. "All his lab notes were either wiped clean or he took them with him. He didn't leave any tracks. Even the laboratory supply acquisition logs are cleared. He was meticulous. We're reviewing lab footage on him, but this could take forever and so far we haven't seen anything out of the ordinary. He knows the cameras are there. I doubt they will reveal anything."

Dacon ran a hand through his hair. "We don't have much to go on here and I have six vampires on the surface who want to start a war for whatever reason, greed, power, new race, freedom, who the hell knows. The fact remains they're there and have already killed."

"I've got their photos and data spread in every district in the country, marked armed and dangerous." Killian squeezed his arm. "If they show anywhere, we'll get them." She studied the screen, her forehead furrowing. "Why did he wipe their G-profiles from the computer?"

"I don't know," Dacon answered. "Maybe he didn't want us to know their genealogy. He must not have expected us to find him this quickly. We took him off guard. He wouldn't have anticipated you getting the G-profile list when you were here." Dacon gritted his teeth, trying not to let his frustration show.

Roman made a slicing motion, gaining their attention. "As you know, most hunters have special abilities. During the war, the hunters developed a biological inject called VECTRO. The virus kills vampires immediately by infecting the blood, basically heating it up to the point of explosion. This weapon, combined with their abilities, drove us to settle."

Killian sucked in her breath, the sound hissing through the room like a low whistle.

"If Rurik found a way to neutralize these abilities," Roman continued, "or a weapon which could swing a war to our favor, it might be motivation for him to strike now."

Dacon glanced at Killian. Her expression was blank. His gut ached. He couldn't imagine where Rurik's group was going next. Too many questions and not enough answers.

"I'll give a full brief to Chance on what's happening down here." Roman stood. "I'll contact him from my office. It's a good idea for everyone to take a few hours downtime. It's going to be a long night." He marched out of the room, leaving a brooding silence behind him.

As if drawn, Dacon settled his gaze on Killian again. She looked as if she was going to fall out of her chair. Her face was the color of the unlit vid screen and her hand trembled as she worked on her 9500.

"Guess there's no point in Byron being under house arrest anymore." She gave a tired grin to Byron.

Byron winked at her. "I was never good at being held down, anyway."

They both chuckled. "Did you get any rest?" Dacon asked Killian.

"Been a little busy."

"Come." He stood and held out his hand, aware of Byron watching the interplay between them. When Killian placed her hand in his and let him pull her up, he felt that now familiar thrill weave into his system. He nodded at Byron. "Notify me if anything comes in."

"You got it." Byron dropped his gaze to the desktop unit and started typing as Dacon led Killian from the room.

One ZAT ride and a short walk later, Dacon had Killian in the comfort of his apartment, relaxed against his sofa and drinking the wine he had prepared especially for her. This time he tried a little less of his lifesaving blood. He needed to keep her drinking, but not enough to make her pass out. He took off her coat and let it slide to the floor.

"We don't have much time." She put her hand over her mouth, covering a yawn. "I should get back up top soon."

"You need to rest. A few hours isn't going to make a difference. Your squad will notify you if they spot anyone from Rurik's group, correct?"

She leaned her head against the couch back. "Yes."

"My team will notify me if anything arises. We have to recharge, Killian, otherwise we'll be useless."

"I'm fine."

But, when he ran his hand along her rib cage, she sighed. He loved the way she reacted to him, the moans, the sighs, the arching of her body against his hand.

"Indulge me."

"You're always saying that. You're wearing that saying out."

"Am I?" He dipped his head and kissed her deeply, tangling his tongue with hers. She ran her hand into his hair and yielded her mouth. He took what she offered until he had to draw a breath. Slowly, he tipped his head back and guided the glass to her mouth.

"Drink," he whispered, then leaned back in and pressed his mouth against her throat. "Relax with me for a while."

She moaned and took a deep drink of the wine. "Love this wine," she murmured as she feathered her hand through his hair, touching, her finger outlining his ear.

Her simple touch made his body harden. He unzipped her shirt and let it dangle open while he explored. Her breath caught.

Ah, that was what he wanted, her complete surrender.

She took another sip of her wine and watched him under lowered lids. He released the catch of her bra. Taking the bra and shirt completely off, he tossed them to the floor. He rounded her breasts with his tongue, then took her nipple into his mouth and sucked.

He smelled her arousal, the sweet tangy scent of her heat pulsating for him. She bowed up off the couch with a groan.

"You are so incredibly beautiful," he said as he worked her body into a frenzy. His hand traveled to her abdomen. He tugged at her pants until he had her naked and squirming under him. Then he took his time, tasted every inch of her soft skin, discovering the areas that made her moan the most, until he reached her heat. He dipped in and tasted, sucking, licking, bringing her to the edge. When she screamed and went over, he reveled in the taste of her pleasure.

She melted into the couch, the empty wineglass still balanced in one hand. He laughed and set the glass aside. She had the look of a well-loved woman. Her lips wet, her cheeks rosy, her color no longer pale and her eyelids lowered in a half-submissive daze.

Her body was open to him, so soft, so amazing. He ran his hands up her stomach, over her breasts, where he slowed and kneaded. In response, she licked her lips. The move triggered his beast. He stood and shucked his clothes as fast as he could.

He wanted to be inside her, couldn't seem to think about anything else. He lifted her, wrapped her legs around his ass, then he turned and eased onto the couch so Killian straddled him. Forcing himself to go slow, he lowered her onto his erection, sliding into her, their fit perfect.

His body was peace, the sense of urgency temporarily sated. She was his. His head dropped back in satisfaction.

"Killian," he ground out.

Her expression flared, her eyes lighting up. She rotated in and out. He gritted his teeth and clutched her hips, moving them with his hands until she caught the right rhythm.

He didn't want to come yet. He wanted her with him. He waited and watched, thrusting up when she came down. She reached with her hand and moved her hair aside, baring her neck. He wrapped his arms around her body and tilted her forward until he was aligned with the slope of her neck, with his mark.

His.

God, he would never get enough of her, he thought as she skimmed her hands into his hair and clutched his head to her neck. She wanted his bite. She wanted him.

His.

He slid his tongue over her skin, gently stroking, worshipping her, telling her how much he wanted her—and then he bit.

Her body jerked and she cried out. She fisted her hands in his hair to the point of pain. He took in her unique coppery taste; he'd never had anything as good as Killian's blood. She propelled her hips forward and back, rocking against him, her excitement evident.

He drove up, the suck of his fangs matching the movements of his hips. She screamed out his name as they came together in a long forward thrust, just the way he wanted. He lifted his fangs from her neck, caressed her with his tongue, closing the wound.

She panted, puffing air against his cheek. "How do you always make me forget where I am?"

"Hum, vampires have their own special abilities, you know."

"Ummm, yes, it's called sex appeal."

He stood and slid her into his arms. She let her head fall onto his chest and rest there.

"I'm going to take you to bed for a few hours. How's that for sex appeal?"

"Sounds good," she said sleepily. "Take me to bed."

* * * * *

"You put something in the wine, didn't you?"

Dacon grunted when Killian's fist hit his chest. He sat up, reaching for his weapon, before he realized what was happening. The soft green color of his own bedroom greeted him, as well as one very angry woman. Her knuckles were fisted, the empty wine bottle held in her other hand. He ran his fingers over his face and tried to figure out what was going on.

"What time is it?" He glanced toward the bedroom clock. Ten a.m. They had only been asleep for four hours. Of course, the first hour was spent in a passionate hum of sensual activity. He would've liked to relive that dream, but Killian had other plans.

"Dacon." Her raised voice brought him back to the present. "You put something in the wine." She wasn't questioning him, she was accusing.

He got up and searched for his pants. When he couldn't find them, he grabbed another pair out of the drawer and slid them on. Wouldn't be good to face his angry mate with his pants off.

"Ahhh." He was so caught. What the hell was he supposed to say now?

"It doesn't even smell normal." She popped the cork out of the bottle and shoved it under his nose. "And this is the second time I've woken after drinking wine with you, in your apartment, feeling wonderful and not remembering much of what happened several hours before. I'm not stupid."

He grimaced, running his hand along the back of his neck. "You can't remember anything?"

"I remember enough to know you've been drugging me."

"I haven't drugged you." Dacon set his hands on his hips.

"What is in this wine? Don't even think about lying to me."

He took in a rush of air and eased down in the chair next to the bed. "Will you let me explain?"

"I'm waiting." Standing at the side of the bed, she tapped her foot.

"Killian, you're sick."

"I'm well aware of my health status."

"I was trying to help you."

"What's in this wine?"

Oh man, this wasn't going the way he thought it would.

"I'm in love with you."

She shook her head and squatted down in front of him. After setting the bottle aside, she took his hands into hers.

"Dacon, I care about you too. Why don't you want to tell me?"

_That's it?_ She only cared about him. Here he was laying his heart in her hands and she only cared about him. It hurt.

"I'm afraid if I tell you what's in that wine, you'll overreact." He dropped his chin and stared at their linked hands.

"I won't." She lifted his chin with her index finger.

He met her stare. He could almost see his demise in her gaze.

"My blood. I did it to help heal you. So you wouldn't be in so much pain."

She dropped his hands. "I knew it, damn you." The next second, she stood and rushed out of the room.

He strode after her. When he reached the living room, she was jerking her clothes on. He watched her. What the hell was he going to say to stop her?

Refusing to glance his way, she finished dressing, picked up her Comm and dialed. "Byron, I need you to fly me back to my loft. Can you come get me in Dacon's apartment? Now. Great. Thanks." She hung up.

He snatched her arm. "We can't discuss this?"

She yanked out of his hold and grabbed Wana's harness. "No."

"I'm in love with you."

"I heard you the first time."

But she wasn't _hearing_ him now.

"Give me a chance."

She stopped moving, her back to him, and glanced over her shoulder. "I made my feelings about this clear. No. I'm too angry to even discuss this right now. I'm leaving. You're staying. That's the way this is playing out."

"Killian, I had to make a choice—"

She turned on him fast, with an expression so fierce he considered ducking. "No one, absolutely no one, makes choices about my life but me." She pointed her thumb to her chest. "I've had people make decisions for me before. I grew up with a race of people who decreed I would be a hunter. I rebelled against those choices. I now make the only decisions in my life. Me. Never again..." Her face reddened and she took in a slow breath. "This conversation is over."

He fisted his hands at his sides. "Just like that?"

"Just like that," she said.

"Killian, you're mine."

She didn't say anything, but her intense expression froze him on the spot.

The door hissed open when Byron entered. He took one quick glance at the two of them squaring off and pivoted to go back out.

"Stop," Killian commanded.

Byron halted, looked over his shoulder and met Dacon's stare. Dacon nodded. Byron's shoulders dropped. He waited until Killian preceded him, then followed her out the door.

Dacon knew Byron would ask him what was going on later. Right now, he trusted his brother to get Killian home safely.

One thing he knew for sure. This wasn't over.

Chapter Nineteen

Sangerian Coven Blood Rule number eight hundred twenty: Since the implementation of the Vampire-Human Faction Treaty, the use of high-power war weapons are no longer authorized.

"Bye." Killian slammed her loft door in Byron's face and reached down to release Wana. Byron had asked to stay; she told him to go home. Right now she'd rather be around a vat of deadly snakes than a bunch of vampires.

A few moments later, she heard the high-pitched hum of the turbo jet maneuvering off her roof. _Guess he got the message_.

She could kill Dacon.

For a split second, she actually contemplated murder, but reality intruded. Anger, disappointment and betrayal didn't begin to describe what she was feeling. And then there was one more overriding emotion so strong she couldn't get past it...

Love.

The notion shocked her. She stood in her living room and placed her hand over her heart.

Oh crap, she was in love with a vampire.

Her breath sucked in and she slumped onto the sofa. Shaking her head she thought about the situation she'd gotten herself into. She couldn't fall in love with a vampire, could she? It felt as if her dead mother was playing a joke on her from the grave, punishing her for her disloyalty to the hunters, her unwillingness to accept their life, and getting in the last laugh.

So Dacon thought he could heal her. She ran her hand over her face and melted back into the cushions. The residues of her righteous anger dissolved. She admitted it did feel good to see with clear vision—out of _both eyes._ To walk fast instead of slow, afraid she'd lose her balance.

For a while, anyway. She figured Dacon's doctored wine pushed her disease aside for a good twenty-four hours.

Doubts niggled into her mind. Was she wrong holding on to her anger? Was she petty? It hadn't been real mature to bang out of Dacon's place like a child so she could pout in peace. She wasn't usually one to run away. But despite his noble reason, Dacon's betrayal was still fresh and it hurt. Or was it something deeper that she didn't want to admit?

She shook her head. Refusing his blood was her decision. No one had the right to make it for her. Even if he did it—as he said—out of love. She shuddered when she tripped down memory lane; her mother, the training missions, the slaughter of vampires, the river of blood and screams of death. That's right, she was in control of her life now. Me. Not Dacon.

So why did she feel these nagging doubts, as if she was betraying him? He had to be facing his own demons right now, but that wasn't her fault. She was sure there was some rule he was breaking. By the looks of that huge book in his apartment, there might be even more than one. But that was his choice, not hers. _His problem, not mine._

She closed her eyes, enjoying being headache and tremor free; the two symptoms that kept her from a good sleep night after night. As she drifted off into nothingness, she took an image of Dacon with her as he said, _"I love you."_ The buzzing of her Comm woke her out of her easy slumber.

She rubbed her eyes, trying to erase the sleep from her fuzzy brain. She pushed off the couch into a sitting position and reached for her Comm. "Gray, go ahead."

"Agent Gray. This is dispatch at Oakland Police Department."

She dropped her hand and focused. "Go ahead."

"We have a positive ID on the alert you put out on a one John Ricker. Settled in the old Sepcon Warehouse at Second and Industrial. Per your alert, the officers didn't approach. They trailed your guy to the warehouse, where they hung back. They have a good eye on the building now. Suspects haven't come out."

All traces of sleepiness fled. Yes! Finally, the break she'd been looking for. "Good, have them stay put. I'll be there as fast as I can. Tell them not to do anything but watch. These individuals should be considered very armed and very dangerous. I repeat, do not approach. Got it?"

"Got it. Need any more help?"

"Yeah, if you can spare a unit, I'd like to sweep the warehouse. I'll have three of my team coming. Tell yours full protective gear."

"Consider it done. We'll meet you at the convenience store around the corner from the warehouse."

Killian hung up and dialed Sie.

"Knight here." Sie picked up her call on the first beep, his voice sleepy.

She glanced at her watch. Near midnight and Tuesday; Sie's day off. No wonder he was sacked out.

"Sie, get the squad together. Full body armor. We've got a line on one of our main suspects. Swing by and pick me up after everyone's on board. I'll brief you en route."

"Roger." The sleep cleared from his voice.

"I'm not kidding on this, Sie. Bring every weapon you've got and tell the others too. We're going in blind, so let's be prepared."

"Understood." He disconnected.

Killian jumped off the couch. A few minutes later, she slipped on her armor, shoved a backup blaster into her ankle holster and strapped a knife onto her thigh.

She knelt down and drew a hand-carved wooden box from under her bed. Lifting the bio-gun from the fitted velvet lining, she examined it, tipping the weapon to the right, then left, analyzing what she held. One shot from this gun and any vampire would go down and never get back up.

Like Roman said, the Human Hunters had developed a biological weapon that couldn't be beat, VECTRO. She'd seen it work, witnessed its power. Designed to swing the war to the human's side, the virus shooting out of the VECTRO left no vampire standing.

She checked the cartridge, thumbing out a bullet and reloading it to make sure the clip was packed. After loading the clip full of chemical bullets into the gun with a click, she pressed it into her shoulder holster. If any of the six vampires gave her team trouble, she would make sure they never again saw the moon at midnight.

Her lips tight, she grabbed a second carton of bullets from the box. Preparation was the key and everyone was going to have it.

Leaning down, she stroked Wana's head. "You're out on this one." Wana whined and nudged Killian's hand. "I'll be okay, girl, I'll be back." She straightened, wondering who she was trying to convince, herself or her dog?

A moment later, she headed down the stairs to meet with Sie. His PV waited at the curb, Jinx and Randy sitting in the back, along for the ride.

"What's the plan?" he asked as he swerved into the street.

"We're going to watch and learn. Location is the Sepcon Warehouse at Second and Industrial. These guys are really dangerous. Here." She handed the two boxes of ammo to Jinx. "Load all your automatics with these bullets."

"Oh man, this isn't like holy water shit or something, is it?" Randy asked as he popped the bullets out of his Glock and began to load them with the bio-bullets.

"As close as you can get. Inside these bullets is a biological virus that will attack the vampire's blood in seconds and cause immediate death. Compliments of the hunters. Think of them like a kind of tranquilizer bullet, only this one kills."

"Shit." Jinx rotated the bullet in her hand and studied it. "The hunters don't mess around, do they?"

"Nope, they sure don't." Killian grabbed Sie's gun off his ankle and began replacing his bullets.

"Are we calling in the vamps on this one?" Sie asked as he headed toward Oakland's industrial district.

"I'm going to contact Byron, tell him what we're doing, but we're moving in on our own. I don't want them up here to mess up our game. This is our case. This is what we do. We know our jobs. The vamps are in our territory now, I think we can handle them."

She clamped her jaws tight. At the moment, her trust level with Dacon was pretty shaky. She wasn't sure about having him and his security people along for the ride. This was routine. Her team could handle it.

Doubts erupted inside her mind. She could lie to Sie and the others, but she knew the truth. Maybe she was still mad at Dacon, but that wasn't the real reason she didn't want him along. She didn't want him to know she had a weapon in her hand that could kill his people instantly and without remorse.

"No doubt," Jinx said. "Trying to implement the vamp cops into our well-oiled machine is probably not the best idea right now." She spun her gun in a single circle, like a slinger from an old western movie, eased the weapon back into the speed holster at her thigh and grinned.

Killian rolled her eyes. "There's a team of locals on scene. We'll use them to assist and secure. We should be able to contain the vamps pretty quick. If I remember right, that warehouse is small, only three entry points. Rurik knows about this weapon. He'll give it up faster than I can train the gun at him."

Sie turned the car into a tree-lined street with dim or broken out overhead lights and no activity. In front of an abandoned convenience store sat a black-and-white PV Oakland Police squad car.

Killian pointed. "There's our backup."

Sie eased into the store's parking lot. They piled out of the PV and greeted their city counterparts. Killian recognized the officers. Her team frequently worked with the locals.

Normally, locals groused that Feds came in and took over. But Killian didn't subscribe to the notion of being the big bear in charge. Sometimes she thought that was the secret behind her team's success rate. Treating her fellow officers with respect fostered cooperation instead of resentment.

The night was balmy, the full moon lighting up the parking lot. The salty scent of the ocean was perfume to Killian's senses...which seemed to be enhanced along with her energy.

_A good night to kick ass_.

"Hey, Shane. You got switched to nights?" She shook the hand of the burly Sergeant, then transferred her hand to a younger and thinner officer, introducing herself with a quick shake.

"Hey, Agent Gray," the Sergeant said. "Yeah, we switched at the last rotation. Glad to be working with you again. What do we got here?" He nodded toward the warehouse a few blocks down.

Killian gave them the story she had run through her head, the one that didn't include revealing the existence of vampires. "We have some suspected domestic terrorists we'd like to contain. They run with one of those dark, cult-type religious groups and have been threatening world domination. You know the type? Like to think they're vampires. Crazy." She circled her finger above her head.

The burly sergeant chuckled and shook his head. "Yeah, I know the type. Hard to negotiate with them."

"Oh, I speak their language. I think I can talk them out. We need you for backup. There are three entrances to this place. Sie and I will go in the front. Jinx and Randy will cover the back with one each of you. If they show any aggression, shoot to kill. This group is extremely dangerous. Mixing crazy with weapons is always lose-lose."

"I hear ya. Let's use our radio." He handed her a handful of earpieces. The next ten minutes were spent checking equipment, making sure everyone was clear on the plan, testing their radios and ensuring their force field cuffs were set in the highest lock position.

As an afterthought, she dialed Byron.

He picked up immediately. "Killian, what's up?"

"We had a tip on Rurik's group, a sighting on Ricker at Sepcon Warehouse at Second and Industrial. We're going in to check it out."

"We'll be right there."

"No time. We're ready to move here. We don't need you, Byron."

"You have no idea what you're dealing with."

He sounded frantic. She made the reluctant decision to give him some reassurance. "Yeah, I think I do. You know that weapon Roman talked about? I got my hands on one." Killian fingered the bio-gun. "I've got to go. I'll update you when we're done here."

"Shit, wait—"

She disconnected the call and faced the team of six. "Okay, let's move."

They drove to the block in front of the warehouse, the Oakland squad car behind them, parked and approached the building with caution. Killian gave a hand signal and Jinx and Randy split off with the two officers.

"Notify me when you're in position," she breathed into the radio tucked in her ear. Unless there was a critical incident, only her team had been tasked with radio chatter. Too many people on the radio and they'd be talking over each other, adding confusion to an already dangerous situation.

"Roger," Jinx and Randy said simultaneously.

She assessed the area. The moonlight allowed them to move freely without using their flashlights. The old brick building was painted with gang graffiti. It amazed Killian that kids got a thrill at making their marks all over everything. Like dogs peeing on trees... I'm here, they were saying.

She wiped the thoughts from her mind. No time for whimsy now. She needed to concentrate so it wouldn't be any of her team heading for the morgue.

The vamps had chosen a good place to hide. The warehouse had been abandoned maybe two decades earlier, a small distribution center for the torn down meat packing plant behind it. This area was rarely used, except when someone was pondering the illegal side of human existence... Or, in this case, not so human.

Sie stayed so close behind her she heard his shallow breaths as they approached the front door. No lights. She stamped down her nerves as they waited outside the building for Jinx and Randy's call. No room for jitters in this situation.

"We're in position," Jinx said.

"Copy, us too." Randy repeated her call-out.

"Go. Go," she said softly into the radio, which was set to pick up her slightest inflection.

Aiming her blaster, Killian pulled the trigger and singed the knob off the door. It landed with a clink on the ground. She jumped forward and shouldered her way through. Inside, Sie went left. She went right. Training kicked in and they began methodically clearing each room as the moonlight streamed in from holes in the roof.

As they worked their way from the back and side, Randy and Jinx called out their clears. Killian headed down the hall, Sie behind her, his hand on her back so she was always in tune to his position. She saw a light ahead. She froze and held up her palm, spreading her fingers. Sie stopped.

She puffed out a slow methodical breath, her vision narrowed to the threat ahead of them. She was confident, calm and ready to take these guys down.

Unwanted gratitude welled up. Without Dacon's healing blood, she'd be weak and struggling to hold on. Because of him, she was ready for anything.

Even, if necessary, death.

She pushed these thoughts and emotions aside. Later she'd have time to think, feel, reflect. Now, she needed to act, capture and, maybe, kill.

"Think I got them," she murmured into her radio. "Middle office. Two o'clock. South side."

"We're close, coming up from the north," Jinx said. "We're clear back here."

"We're coming from the east and clear on this side," Randy said.

Killian crept along the hallway, signaling Sie to stay behind her. The upper hallway walls of the warehouse offices were glass. She knelt beneath the solid half and scuttled toward the one office that was lit up like a Christmas tree.

As she moved closer, she heard the murmur of voices spilling out of the cracked door. The office's occupants weren't alerted to her team yet. Good. The element of surprise would come in handy.

From the other direction, Randy was moving stealthily up the hall, Jinx's team behind him. Killian signaled for Randy and the Oakland officer with him to take their position on the other side of the doorjamb. Making eye contact with Randy, she held up her hand and ticked off her fingers, one, two, three.

Her adrenaline racing, she sprinted forward at the same moment as Randy. They kicked the door all the way open and burst through the doorway, screaming, "FBI. Freeze."

The first recognizable face Killian saw was Rurik, then Ricker and Faller. They were sitting around a desk, their blasters in front of them, electrical parts and computer equipment littered the table. Jinx and her cop rushed into the room. The team circled around the three vamps, spreading out so they covered them from all angles.

Ricker and Faller jumped up and grabbed for their auto-blasters. Rurik lifted his blaster off the table.

Too late. Six guns pointed at the stunned vampires, and four of those guns carried a deadly virus.

"Rurik," Killian ordered, "tell your friends to drop their weapons. I'm sure you recognize this gun I'm pointing at you. My team is armed with the same bullets. Designed to kill you on contact."

She chose her words carefully. Rurik would recognize the gun and what it meant, but the Oakland cops would be in the dark. Some things needed to stay between the Blood Squad and the vamps.

"Agent Gray. Glad you could join us." Pointing his blaster at Killian, he barked a sharp command to his men. "John, Ryan, lower your weapons. Let the nice police officers take you into custody."

The two vamps set their blasters on the table and held up their hands. Jinx and Randy leapt in and cuffed one of them. Shane and Sie grabbed another and cuffed him.

Rurik kept his weapon trained on her. "Now it's just you and me, Agent Gray. Does that make you feel better?"

"I said drop the weapon, or I will be forced to shoot you." She circled around to get a better line of shot and avoid the crossfire. She didn't want to hit one of her own team.

"Get them out of here," she yelled. "Everyone back out of the room. I've got this one on my own."

Although she could feel Sie tense next to her, no one questioned her. Footsteps scuffled as they left the room instead of staying to argue with her. She was the team leader and what she said was the closest to the voice of God until they reached the afterworld.

She nodded at the bits and pieces of computer parts on the table, the reason she wanted to talk to Rurik without an audience. They were working on something and she didn't like the looks of it.

"What are you up to, Rurik? Where are the rest of your people?"

"So many questions, Dr. Gray. I can call you that can't I? So you have one of the Human Hunters' biological weapons. And you think this will hurt me? You don't understand, but you will. I'm in this war to win, Dr. Gray, everything." He chuckled, a sinister sound.

Killian inhaled a slow breath and tried to calm her pounding heart. Her eyes narrowed, she focused in on Rurik.

"I told you to drop the gun?"

"Or what? Are you going to shoot me?"

Everything began to move in slow motion, all noise in the room ceasing. Rurik raised his weapon higher, clearly sighting her in. His finger curved around the trigger of his blaster.

_I'm going to have to shoot._ Killian let out a breath and slowly pulled her own trigger. When the round hit his chest, she watched the spread of red and saw the jerk of his body, yet he wasn't even fazed. She had expected him to drop immediately, but he eyed the hole in his chest and laughed.

Shit. I'm in trouble.

Killian dove for the far desk, but as she flew, his laser blast ripped through her right leg, carving a gouge to her thigh bone. She could smell the burning flesh, but oddly felt no pain.

She hit the ground with a grunt and rolled to the other side of the desk. Another shot grazed her left leg. She heard screams on the radio, the confusion of a battle reverberated through the communication system.

"Shots fired," Randy called out. "Officer down," Sie said. Then, finally, she heard the hum of a helo-jet.

_My entire team's under attack._ She needed to get out of there and help her squad.

Killian tried to crawl under the desk, but Rurik's shots bombarded her, keeping her from springing free. Then the radio went quiet. She reached down and placed her fingers on her damaged thigh, trying to stop the blood from surging out. Her hand slipped off, unable to find anything dry to hold onto. She hissed in a pained breath. Everything had happened so fast. What in the hell was going on?

The loss of blood sent her head spinning.

She touched the radio. "Report, report," she moaned.

Nothing but ominous silence. Even Rurik had stopped shooting at her.

She tried to move, to get to her team, but couldn't seem to lift her legs.

"You made a grave mistake, Dr. Gray. One you might never have the pleasure of repeating."

Killian stared at the barrel of Rurik's blaster and realized he was right. Damn him. She looked up from his weapon, straight into his triumphant eyes and she felt her blood coagulate and a thread of energy whisper into her body. _Dacon's blood. It was healing her._

But not enough. Too late to save her.

Rurik smiled, and she knew he was savoring her helplessness.

The hell with that. She wasn't going to die like a weak lamb. Willing her muscles to work, she raised the bio-gun and shot three more rounds into him. He jerked, blood blossomed across his chest, shoulder and arm, but he still didn't go down.

She couldn't hold on to her gun anymore and it slipped out of her bloodied hand. Why hadn't the bullets worked?

"You can't kill us. We're too strong now. Luring those converted humans up top was so uncomplicated, but you...you were a complication I didn't plan on. A complication I intend to rid myself of so my plan can be implemented, let's say...complication free. Too damn smart for your own good...I knew the minute you walked into my lab you would be trouble. Tell my brothers hello and...oh...tell them soon I'll be leading this show. Wait, I guess you won't be telling them anything. Never mind."

He smiled, then he pulled the trigger and Killian was pushed into blackness.

Chapter Twenty

Sangerian Coven Blood Rule number one: Turning a human who is not within the Book of the Select Willing Donors is punishable by death.

Byron raced from the conference room and slammed into Dacon, bouncing off him and tumbling onto the hard concrete.

"Shit, we need to go." He scrambled off the floor and headed out the door.

"What—"

"I'll explain on the way. Come on."

Dacon jogged after Byron. He didn't know what was going on, but he had never seen Byron so panicked. His brother was an easygoing guy, usually as calm under pressure as an organic Sangerian cucumber. This wasn't that brother.

Byron was yelling into his Comm as they raced toward the helo-pad. Roman appeared, sprinting from one of the other tunnels.

Roman caught up to Dacon, two strides behind Byron. "He called and said we had to go. Now! What's going on?"

"I don't know."

Byron rushed into the jet. Roman and Dacon jumped in behind him. Byron pushed a few buttons, the hum of the engine deafening. Then he jerked the Class A up so fast, the jet barely cleared the opening skylight. Dacon clutched at the side handle until they cleared the glass.

"Killian just called me," Byron said, his voice choppy. "She's going in after Rurik's group. Her team has already moved in. It was like a courtesy call."

"Shit." Dacon punched a button. A side panel in the jet slid up. An arsenal of banned weapons emerged.

"Exactly." Byron flew the jet so fast Dacon thought he would lose his lunch, but he didn't care. All he cared about was Killian. Fear overrode any other consideration. Nothing else but getting to Killian mattered.

Roman slid an auto-blaster over his shoulder and palmed a handheld. "She's going to get killed."

Dacon's heart seized, not because of what Roman had said, but because a feeling he never experienced before struck him hard, like someone was stabbing him in the chest. Something wasn't right. He massaged his heart. His blood connection allowed him to feel Killian's extreme emotions and she was hurt, bad.

"She's injured," he said, his voice raw.

"She was babbling about having a special weapon."

Dacon and Roman made eye contact.

"Well, that should give her some advantage." Roman's expression was grim.

"How long?" Dacon tried to keep calm as he checked the clip on his gun. He couldn't lose it now. Killian needed him.

"At this rate? Minutes."

An odd stillness fell over the three of them as Byron maneuvered at maximum speed around buildings and structures. Dacon peered out the window at the passing landscape below them, the top of building after building flashed by in a mirage of gray. He didn't want to think about what they would find when they landed.

In less than ten minutes, Byron put down the jet in the parking lot next to the warehouse. The picture wasn't reassuring. A black-and-white police car was positioned at the entrance. A man crouched behind the front of the car, taking fire from Ricker and Faller. Sie was in the same position at the back of the car laying down cover fire. One officer was facedown on the ground, his body unmoving.

Clutching her leg, Jinx was scooting along the concrete toward Sie. Blood seeping down his shirt, Randy was attempting to assist her. As Dacon watched, Randy swung Jinx up into a fireman's carry and limped toward Sie.

"Get ready," Byron said, as if he needed to warn them. They were combat-tried warriors and Dacon recognized a defeat when he saw it.

Killian's squad was losing.

Dacon drew his blaster. Roman shouldered the laser. Arming himself, Byron rounded behind them. The minute they stepped from the jet, Dacon began firing. Ricker took a blast to the shoulder and remained standing. The three of them came around the back of the car where Killian's team was hunkered down.

Roman dropped down next to Sie while Dacon and Byron started firing. Roman shot a volley of blasts, then slid over and checked Jinx's bleeding leg. Ricker tucked back into the building and occasionally angled out to fire. Faller did the same from the other side of the door.

"Where's Killian?" Dacon ducked behind the cover as a zip-zap of blaster shots slammed into the car.

"She's inside tangoing with Rurik," Sie said, not taking his eyes from the building. "I haven't been able to contact her. As you can see, we've been a little busy out here. These guys broke through force field cuffs calibrated on the highest setting. Their hands cut right through the suckers."

He stopped talking to take a shot at Faller. Dacon popped up to help him as shots poured back at them. A laser blast whizzed by Dacon's cheek. He swore and shot. Faller jumped back into the building. Dacon slumped against the car. His heartbeat thumped inside him. He smelled the sizzle of seared metal as the blasters struck the police car. He needed to get past Ricker and Faller to Killian.

"I've never seen anyone break out of force cuffs like they were rubber bands," Sie continued. "I can't get by these bastards to get to Killian. They've taken at least a dozen hits and are still standing. It's crazy."

Dacon peeked over the top of the car to watch Ricker take another hit from the officer in the front of the car. He didn't even flinch, although he did step back. Dacon shook his head. Unbelievable. How could two vampires take more rounds and laser blasts than he'd ever seen and remain standing? Something wasn't right.

"We're even using the special bullets Killian gave us," Randy yelled as he fired a few more rounds. "She said they would attack their blood, take them down immediately, but they haven't been affected by them at all."

Dacon glanced at Roman, who looked up from where he was wrapping a strip of his shirt around Jinx's leg, then back down.

Sie flattened himself against the car and touched the device on his ear. "Killian, come in. Killian." He shook his head, his eyes bleak, then leapt up and started firing again.

"Do you know where she is?" Dacon asked.

Sie stooped down as laser blasts flared over the top of the squad car. "About a hundred feet inside, unless the bastard moved her. She was in the third office to the right when we hauled these idiots out."

"Byron, use the jet. Blow them out of there with a missile."

Without hesitation, Byron sprinted to the jet and jumped in. A second later, the two vampires in the doorway were blown to bits with one of the most accurate missiles made, illegal for the vampires to keep and use. And it barely even messed up the front of the building, only blew out the doorway and the two men shooting from it.

"Stay here and get help for your teammates," Dacon ordered Sie and Ryan.

Standing, he signaled Roman and Byron to follow him. They raced in through the warehouse's smoldering front entrance. The pungent smell filled Dacon's nostrils. He didn't stop to check the pieces left of Ricker and Faller. Instead, he ran down the hall and took the third entrance to the right.

He skidded to a stop. At first all he saw was a desk littered with wires and computer parts. Chairs were pulled out at awkward angles. One was on its side. A noise came from behind a second desk, barely louder than a breath.

"Killian!" He knocked over a chair in his hurry to reach her, then tossed aside the desk in front of her. She sprawled on her back, her face colorless except for streaks of blood, her strained breath gasping in and out. More blood covered her chest, arms and legs.

He slammed down on his knees next to her. Her closed eyes didn't flicker. She was unconscious. "Killian," he whispered, his voice thick. He soothed the hair away from her bleeding brow, the burn mark in her forehead telling him where she was shot.

His heart squeezed. She was dying.

"Rurik's gone," Roman said as he knelt next to Dacon.

Byron squatted on her other side, across from both of them. "She's not going to make it, Dacon."

Although he knew Byron was right, Dacon glared at him. With every pump of her heart, he could feel her life force bleeding away.

"She is going to live," he growled. He turned her head to the side.

"You can't," Roman said. "It's forbidden. She's unwilling. It will mean your death."

"She's mine." He would gladly die to bring her life. He leaned down and lifted Killian's body up to his mouth. Her head fell back.

"Dacon, don't." Byron jumped up.

Roman stood. "Let him be, brother."

"But he'll die."

Dacon heard the heaviness in Roman's voice when he said, "That's his choice."

Sending a silent thank you to both his brothers, Dacon ran a tongue along Killian's neck, locating the scar that was his. He didn't need to think about the decision he was about to make. The day he met her, the choice was made for him. He loved her with everything he had.

He circled the skin, making the final sweep of his tongue, then he bit, sucking, taking her from the human world and into his.

She gasped and cried out, snapping into consciousness. Her hand slapped his shoulder in an involuntary final movement. She was a fighter, he thought, all the way to the end.

He kept sucking, the sweet taste of his mate's blood easing through him. This was the only way. In order to save her life, he had to drain her of it.

He could feel the slowing of her heart, the weakening of her pulse, until she sucked in her last, trembling breath. Her body went slack in his arms. He took in the final mouthful of her blood. She had no more to give. He sealed her wound with a lick, then laid her gently on the floor.

"We'll need to bring her with us to recover and heal." He lifted her into his arms, cradling her dead body against his chest.

"If you bring her with us, you can't keep this from the Council, Dacon. You realize this?" Roman's voice was even, his expression neutral, but despair shadowed his eyes.

"I know." Cradling Killian against his chest, Dacon walked to the hall. "I did this of my own free will. I understand the consequences."

Without another word of argument, Roman and Byron followed Dacon out of the warehouse.

Sie greeted them at the door. The moonlight gleamed on his frowning face.

"What the hell? Christ, is she..."

Dacon swept past him toward the jet. Killian wouldn't like it if he let Sie see her this way, helpless and lifeless.

Behind him, Dacon heard Roman talking to Sie. "She'll be okay. We're taking her with us. We have better equipment to treat her. How are your teammates?"

"They'll live." Concern darkened Sie's voice. "An ambulance is on the way. You guys need to get out of here. I'll handle this."

Dacon blocked out Roman's response as he folded into the helo-jet, Killian resting comfortably in his arms. He ran his eyes over her face, checking on her. She looked peaceful, her suffering at an end.

He wondered how she would react when she woke up and found out now she lived, because of him, as a vampire.

Chapter Twenty-One

Sangerian Coven Blood Rules Descriptive Handbook page 436. When turning a human to vampire, after the initial bloodletting, the feedings must be immediate and frequent. The technicians of the V-medical center are the best group to assist in handling the conversion recovery phase of human turning.

Killian licked her dry lips and jolted awake. Someone was hammering a rhythm in her brain, broadcasting sleep was no longer allowed. She sat up, and grabbed her head as the whitewashed room spun, then settled.

"You'll have a headache for a few days. You need to relax."

Dacon rose from an overstuffed white lounger and approached her. She could see him clearly. Twenty-twenty vision. What happened to her nonfunctioning eye? She raised her hand and spread her fingers. Waving them back and forth, she still was amazed she could focus on the rounded edges. She forced her hand out and back in.

"You have no more physical defects." Dacon sounded so matter-of-fact. _Like, hey, you just won the no more incurable disease lottery, what are you going to do with the money?_

"Where am I?" Killian swung her feet over the edge of the bed, groaned and dropped her head into her hands.

"You are in the medical recovery center at the Coven."

She ran her hands over her leg, then fingered her forehead. Not a scratch on her. What the hell?

"You will find no wounds. Your body has completely healed. You have been down here for nearly forty-eight hours."

Killian glanced from Dacon to her surroundings. It was like a hospital room, everything clean, monitors hooked up to her arm, equipment beeping.

"What's happening? Why am I here?"

Dacon unhooked a piece of the equipment from her arm and tried to propel her back into the bed.

"You are recovering from your injuries. Lie back."

"Where's my team?" What about Wana?

"Everyone from your squad is okay. They left you a message on your Comm. Sie is taking care of Wana. One of the Oakland Police officers who went out with your team is dead, O'Malley. Rurik escaped and we eliminated Ricker and Faller."

"Holy shit." She screwed her fisted hands against her eyes, trying to clear the haze. It all slammed back to her... The warehouse, Rurik, her team fighting, her going down. She snapped her head toward Dacon. She fingered her slightly pointed incisors. Damn.

"You converted me, didn't you?"

He slid his thumb along her jaw and nodded.

"You are mine. Your death was not acceptable."

"I was dying?" She closed her eyes. She didn't even need to ask the question. She knew the answer.

"You were," Dacon confirmed. "You would not have made it before the human rescue workers reached you. You'd lost too much blood, among other fatal injuries."

The last shot was to her head, that much she remembered before she blacked out. She had lost too much blood and probably some of her brain.

"Dacon, the bullets laced with the virus didn't work." She opened her eyes and watched for his reaction. Nothing.

"I know. Your team discovered the same problem with Ricker and Faller. We had to essentially blow them up to kill them."

"Shit." Killian rubbed her temple and the headache there.

"Here, this will help." Dacon fitted an injection gun to her shoulder and hit her with a shot so quick she didn't have time to protest.

"Ouch," she grumbled. All of a sudden, a euphoric feeling of completeness stirred her body. Her headache disappeared. She sucked in a breath of air and took in Dacon's unique scent. Making love with him would be great right now, she thought. She captured his hand in hers.

"Good drugs. What was that?" she asked.

His expression softened as he tucked her hair behind her ear. "Blood."

She shrugged his hand away with a flick of her wrist. "Damn. Damn. Damn you." She squeezed her eyes shut to hide her feeling. She could feel a single teardrop slide down her cheek.

Life as she knew it had ended. How could he have done this to her without asking? He again took away her freedom to choose. She didn't want to be a vampire. She was human. Not anymore, her mind told her. Existence as a vampire was now her only option. As far as she was concerned, that wasn't life.

"Killian," he said softly as he wiped the tear from the side of her temple.

She opened her eyes and glared at him. "I need you to leave."

"Killian," his voice took on a begging resonance.

"Leave!" she screamed as she pointed to the door.

He bowed his head, then glanced back. Wetness formed in his eyes. "Please, let me help you learn our ways."

"You should have let me die. I told you I didn't want to be a vampire. I told you I make my own choices in life. This one I won't forgive you for." She turned her back to him and curled into a ball. He caressed her hair. She jerked away.

"Leave and don't come back," she whispered as tears coursed down her face.

He lifted his hand. She lay there in silence until she heard the door click close. Then she wept until she never thought she would stop.

* * * * *

"The Council has requested an explanation for your actions." Roman stared at him from across his mahogany desk. "Bringing Killian here was a mistake. Your deed was noticed. We could have found another way."

Dacon shrugged. "She needed care and blood, fast. I wasn't going to leave her up top."

"Byron and I could have kept things quiet. Given you more time to explain."

"I don't need you or Byron to cover up for me, big brother." Dacon leapt up from the chair. He wouldn't listen to the leader of their Coven talk so casually about breaking a Coven Blood Rule for him. "I will meet with the Council. Arrange it."

"Dacon—"

"Arrange it," Dacon ordered. He knew the minute he converted Killian to a vampire that he would be forced to answer for his crime, possibly with his life. Killian's survival was worth it. No question. Now he had to pay the price for betraying the Coven.

Roman rose and encased his arm with his hand. They stood forearm to forearm. "I will stand by your side, brother."

"You will assume the role you were born to as our leader," he told Roman. "And you will let me take the punishment for my crimes. The Coven needs you. I can take care of myself."

Roman gave a nod and released his arm.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Sangerian Coven Blood Rules Descriptive Handbook page 437. Newly formed vampires will be very emotional. Take the time to show them the way of their new life.

Killian plucked the injection gun out of the holder next to her Sangerian hospital bed and raised it to her arm. She pressed the release.

"Dang." The pain of the shot made her grit her teeth, right before the unwelcome pleasure of the substance worked its way through her body. She laid her head back against the chair and tried not to enjoy the bliss of blood feeding time.

"Nice, isn't it?" Byron's voice severed her musing. He was looking good in his baggy green cammy pants and white tank top, showing off his veined, muscled arms. Fitted into place was his customary, cocky grin. She was glad he was feeling chipper, because she certainly wasn't.

"Take me home."

"Dacon did inform me you wanted to leave."

"Dacon can go to hell," she said as she stood and grabbed the supply of shots the tech had given her.

Byron's eyes narrowed. "Dacon loves you."

"Dacon. Can. Go. To. Hell." She opened the door to the hall. "Take me home. Now."

Byron let out an audible sigh and followed her out.

* * * * *

"Wana." Killian dropped to her knees and buried her nose in Wana's neck. God, she had missed her best friend. Her loft was a welcome sight. Felt strange to be back, and so healthy.

"Thanks for taking care of her."

Sie unfolded from her couch and stepped toward her. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm good."

He reached out and tugged her into his arms. Oh, man. She could smell his blood, pulsing through the main vein at his neck, surging into his body...and she wanted to sink herself into it. Her canine teeth lengthened. Time to feed. Damn Dacon.

She jerked out of his embrace and took a couple casual steps in reverse. Nothing like wanting to suck the blood of her best friend to kick her back to the truth, I am no longer human. "Jinx and Randy are good?"

"Yeah, they'll be over later. You sure you're okay?" He came close and tipped her chin left, then right.

"Never been better." She smiled with her mouth closed, but silently gnashed her teeth.

He smiled back. "You look good. So, you're like one of them now?"

"Not by choice. But, yes, I'm one of them."

"How do you..." He shifted from one foot to the other. "You know..."

She took pity on him. "Feed?" She held up the cooler slung over her shoulder. "Got my handy-dandy shots."

"Ugh." He shivered. She laughed.

"Go on. Get going. I'll see you tomorrow in the office. Eight p.m. sharp. Let's start tracking those bastards who took out one of our own." She wanted Rurik's group so badly she ached. There were four left, and she meant to find and kill each one.

"You got it, boss." He walked out, stopping at the doorway to glance back at her. "Call me if you need anything."

"I will. Don't worry."

Then he was gone and she slumped onto the sofa. Wana jumped up and slid her nose onto Killian's thigh, the dog's warmth and love calming Killian. Wana whined.

"I know girl. I know. The vamps put you out of a job, didn't they? I still have a place for you by my side. You just won't have to work anymore." She stroked Wana's fur.

Killian rotated her neck and was taken off guard by the lack of pain. It was completely gone. And she was still really pissed at Dacon. So how could there be a place, deep down inside, that felt empty without him? He had tried one more conversation with her before she'd kicked him out for good. It hadn't been pretty.

Fingering the scar on her neck, she shivered and wondered what he was doing right now. She shook her head and mentally slapped herself for mooning over him.

She turned her thoughts to the new breed of vampire, Rurik's group. They had obviously developed their strength along with their immunity to the virus. New race. The words ran through her head. She had collected blood from some of the dead vampires and was planning on spending time in her lab downstairs to see what was different.

Time to get to work, but first... She grabbed her Comm and dialed Chance.

"Manning here."

"Chance, I'd like to meet with you. We have some stuff to discuss."

"Killiana." He stopped, then corrected himself, "I mean Killian. Sure, would you like to come for dinner tonight?"

Killian rubbed her sweaty palms over her thighs. Time for something else too. Like attempting to make amends with her only family left. Almost dying did that to a person. Made them sentimental. "Yeah, I'd like that."

"Come by at about nine?"

"I'll be there." She hung up, satisfied she was doing the right thing. She needed Chance's help to reactivate the hunters. Who better to go after a rogue group of vampires immensely dangerous to society?

Tomorrow, it was work as usual. She was going to forget about Dacon, the Sangerians, everything, and go back to the way it was, where she was in complete control over her life. Right. Except for the fact she was now a vampire.

She sighed and hugged Wana close. Denial wasn't going to get her anywhere, she thought as she picked up her Comm to make one more call. She had to take action to manage what was happening to her. Take control.

Byron's voice came over the Comm. In the background she heard the muted hum of the helo.

"Byron, can you come back over here for a little while? Help me with a couple issues?"

"You just kicked me out." His voice teased, but she heard the shift of the jet engines, indicating he was probably turning.

"Come on, Byron. I'm sorry. Give me a break here."

"Sure, anything for my girl."

"Thanks." She hung up and stored the blood injects in the refrigerator. She hoped forgetting Dacon would be easier than managing her new blood cravings, otherwise she'd go through some bad withdrawal pains.

* * * * *

"Okay, so how do you...um...keep from biting into someone's neck when you hug them?"

Killian passed Byron a bottle of cold water, then lowered onto the exercise mat, sitting cross-legged across from Byron. They had just finished a rousing workout. Felt weird to drag her old exercise mats from storage. But she'd done it with no problem. Lifting a hundred pounds of mats like they were pieces of paper.

This last hour, Byron had taught her ways to curtail her extreme strength, such as pulling a punch back so she didn't crash through a wall the first time she was angry. Or another person's skull. Wouldn't look good when she was arresting someone to kill him or her during the cuffing process.

Now that Byron had demonstrated the basics of mastering her strength, she needed to know how to cope with another part of her vampire powers. She didn't plan on spending twenty-four hours a day with criminals.

"Ahh, the blood hunger. It's strong and probably the hardest thing for us to control. I use a form of walking meditation and deep breathing to help me through it."

"Walking meditation?" She imagined herself closing her eyes and walking into walls, glass doors, trees.

He took a gulp of water and set down the bottle. Then he held his hands together in a prayerful position and closed his eyes. "Picture a soothing scene and keep this in your mind, even when you're just walking around. For me, it's a waterfall, the river crashing over the mountain and settling in the lake, the wet spray touching my face. I'm sitting on the sandy beach below the falls. Have you ever been to Niagara Falls? It's the most incredible sight. It's five times bigger than it used to be. Grows now at a rate of three feet a year. Used to be two separate falls and now it's only one."

She shook her head. "Never seen it."

"Okay, what calms you?"

"Chocolate."

His eyes opened as he laughed. "Whatever works." He inclined his head. "You know, the vampire who converted his bond mate is traditionally way better at helping with this learning."

"Bond mate. I don't know what in the hell that's supposed to be. Another one of those stupid Sangerian Rules?"

Byron reached out a hand and fingered the scar on her neck. She tilted her head to the side. Funny, when Byron touched that scar, nothing. When Dacon had touched it...she cut off an image of herself entwined in Dacon's arms.

"You're saying I'm some sort of bond mate with Dacon because I have this scar."

"Yep."

"That's crazy."

Byron dropped his hand and shrugged. "That's our way." He gave her a neutral stare. Every time he'd brought up Dacon, she threatened to throw him out. She could tell he was treading lightly.

"Try the meditation."

She clasped her hands in front of her.

"Breathe in and out through your nose. Deep breaths. After this, I'll show you how to control the elongation of your canine teeth."

"Great, just great," she grumbled as she pictured an ape-sized chocolate bar.

* * * * *

"Dacon Sangerian, please rise to address the Council."

Roman's order didn't startle Dacon. He stood and made his way up to the rose-shaped wooden podium positioned in front of a half-circle of some of the oldest vampires in his Coven. Six men and two women sat on the Council of the Sangerian Coven, perched behind the red-velvet covered desk. Eight vampires ready to pass judgment on him.

The room was dim, lit only with the mellow glow of wall sconces and wrought iron candelabras, a red candle resting in the center of each sculpted rose. The light flickered off the concrete, filling the room with an unnerving, dark ambiance. Dacon knew the Council liked the old-world vampire drama that only a setting like this could bring.

"Please read the charges," the First-Chair said.

Roman unrolled a scroll. "Dacon Sangerian is charged with violation of Sangerian Coven Blood Rule number one: Turning a human who is not within the Book of the Select Willing Donors is punishable by death. The woman turned was one Killian Gray."

"What say you to these charges, Dacon Sangerian?"

"Guilty, First-Chair." Dacon stood tall and faced his executioners with pride even though he wanted to disappear into the floor.

"Can you explain your actions?" one of the females asked. She was blindingly beautiful, with a body the picture of a lush twenty-year-old and the soul of a five-hundred-year-old vampire.

"Killian Gray is my chosen bond mate, my rights asserted in the Sangerian Claiming Ceremony." He held his head high. "She was dying. I had no choice. Her death was not an option."

"Does she carry the scar of your mating?" Chair-Four asked.

"Yes." Dacon ran a hand around the back of his neck and sopped up the sweat gathered there. Life or death was going to be decided here today. His life or death.

"Did Killian agree to the Lifelong Ceremonial Mating as your bond mate?" Chair-Five asked.

"Umm, well, in a way—"

"Did she agree?" Chair-Five's brows furrowed with his abrupt question.

"Not irrevocably."

"Was she registered in the Book of Select and Willing Donors?" Chair-Six demanded. "The book you maintain?"

Dacon rubbed his throbbing temple. "No."

"Did you make a formal request of this Council for any of these actions?"

Dacon's shoulders dropped. "No."

"Do you, or any other person, have other evidence to add on your behalf?" The First-Chair glanced toward Roman, an almost pleading expression on his face.

Roman inclined his head. "In my brother's defense, this situation is very unusual. His chosen bond mate never had a chance to voice her opinion on the matter. Additionally, I am not in support of punishing a Coven member who is so critical to us during this time of uncertainty."

"That is why, Roman Sangerian, you do not retain a seat on this Council," Second-Chair admonished. "These decisions are not yours to make. Holding true to our laws is not up to negotiation and you are not an objective party in this situation."

Roman placed a fist over his heart, and bowed; the Sangerian sign of high respect was given in clear reluctance.

"Now, do you have any additional evidence to add to Dacon Sangerian's case?" Chair-One asked.

Roman closed his eyes. "No."

A heavy sigh shivered through the room. Dacon felt the gloom settle around his neck like a rope about to tighten.

"We have no choice in this matter, Dacon, you realize this?" the second female said. "You of all people understand why the integrity of our Blood Laws must be maintained?"

"Yes." Dacon lifted his head even higher, bracing himself. He knew what they were going to say. Unless someone said or did something within the next few seconds—

"The punishment for breaking this Blood Law is death."

The First-Chair's announcement hit the air like a silence-bomb. The only noise in the room was from the recirculators. Roman held up his hand as if he was going to protest. Dacon glared at him. Roman dropped his hand.

"I understand, First-Chair," Dacon said.

"All in favor of upholding the punishment of the First Blood Rule infraction raise your hand."

One by one, with excruciating slowness, hands were lifted until the last one eased into the air.

Dacon exhaled, his breath shuddering.

They had sentenced him to death.

"You will be remanded into custody, Dacon Sangerian, until your execution," First-Chair said. "This meeting of the Sangerian Blood Council is closed."

Dacon gave a bow and stepped down from the podium.

* * * * *

"Did you talk to her?" Dacon clasped his hands together and confronted Byron. The solitary cell was small, but it met his needs. Confinement, however, nearly drove him crazy. But imprisoned he was, for another seventy-two hours. Then he wouldn't have to worry about his accommodations.

"I did. She's doing well, adjusting. I'm watching her transition. Teaching how to deal with little things."

"Did she," Dacon rubbed a hand across the back of his neck, "did she ask about me?"

Byron spread his fingers, then dropped his hands. "She didn't want to talk about you."

Dacon unclasped his hands and lay back on the cot.

"Time's up." The guard yelled at Byron.

"Listen. Let me arrange your escape. I can—"

Dacon sat up and grabbed the front of Byron's shirt, jerking his face toward him.

"Absolutely not," he growled in a low voice. "You will do nothing to help me. You won't even whisper the word again. Do you understand me? The Council has made their decision and I will abide by it. This is the only remedy. They have spoken," he bared his teeth and growled out the words.

"Fine."

Dacon released Byron's shirt and smoothed it out.

"Make sure she's getting enough food. And Byron," Dacon took his brother's forearm in his hand. "Take care of her...and give this to her...after." He handed Byron a letter. Byron accepted the envelope.

Chapter Twenty-Three

February 13, 2060. Memorandum to all the Human Vampire Hunters. In accordance with the treaty of the Vampire-Human Factions, all bullets carrying the VECTRO Virus will be surrendered by this Friday, February 16, to the Sangerian Vampire Liaison for disposal. Noncompliance will result in immediate disciplinary action.

"We need to work together." Killian laid her fork down and confronted Chance.

"I've always been willing to work with you, sister." He took a drink of water and returned to eating his professionally prepared veal. If she didn't know any better, she'd say they were sitting in the most expensive restaurant in Oakland, but they weren't. They were in Chance's dining room and he certainly didn't mind the high life.

A servant had strolled in with the meal, removed the silver lids with a flourish and backed away with several measured steps before he pivoted and left them to a quiet meal. The only interruption now was refills of water and wine.

Killian's eyes traveled the room. The poshness of Chance's office flowed into his apartment. No knickknacks lying around here. The décor was pure expensive, internal decorator variety, down to the wood-carved napkin rings and the fresh flower arrangement on the table with rare orchids.

"How many more hunters are involved in this?" she asked.

"As far as your squad-mates and my internal investigators have been able to determine, Aaron Minor was working alone."

"As one of your computer experts, Minor had access to every one of your internal and external systems."

"We have swept all the systems he had access to and found no abnormalities."

"Chance, my forensics team found high caliber bomb-making residue at the warehouse where Rurik was last seen. Do you know what that means? He could be planning an act of terrorism on this building while we're sitting here eating this gourmet meal." She threw her napkin on the table, furious with his casual attitude. "Most of the hunters are housed here. He could easily have obtained anything he wanted to know about this building from Minor."

"I'm aware. I have tripled our security, including the cyber network."

"Why was Minor helping them?"

He gave up the pretense of eating and also laid his fork down.

"He was disgruntled?"

"About what?"

He shrugged. "He was a hunter who wasn't being utilized. He wanted action. He was young and weak-minded. Taken in, I'm sure, by promises of action and adventure from a vampire order known to be very charismatic. I see you haven't taken on this trait."

Killian pushed back from the table.

Chance held up his palms. "Don't leave. I apologize." He came around the table in a rush and laid his hand on her arm. "Stay." He ran a hand along the back of his neck. The frustrated gesture reminded her of Dacon. Her nemesis. Her love. God, she missed him. But she couldn't seem to make it past her anger at his betrayal to contact him.

Chance squatted next to her chair. "You're my sister and I love you. I'm glad he turned you. I hated seeing you suffer from the disease that took Mom and Grandma. Give me some time to get used to the idea that the sister of the king of the vamp hunters is now a vampire. Okay?" He gave her his crooked smile. The one she remembered from his youth, the gesture softened her.

"How did you..."

His grin cocked.

"You used your gift." Chance had an extraordinary gift of enhanced sight. He could sense events before they happened, see the future in a murky way. When they were kids, he would blurt out crazy predictions. He was never wrong. The scrawny, serious child of their youth had now grown into a man.

"I knew the minute you walked into my office together that you were fated."

She shook her head. "When we were kids, I could never keep any secrets from you." She took his hand in hers. She came here to make amends, not war. "I'm sorry. You're right. Being a vampire is new to me too. I didn't choose to be turned. I'm a little irked about it."

Chance's brow furrowed. "You were unwilling? He converted an unwilling, why didn't I see that?" he muttered the last part as if talking to himself. He dropped his eyes.

"I was dying. The battle with Rurik. He shot me three times, about brained me. Dacon didn't feel like he had a choice." She felt like she was defending him. Sheesh. Could she make up her mind already? Did she hate him or love him?

His eyes jumped up and met hers, his expression grave. "Killian, the penalty for Sangerians who turn the unwilling is very grave, in some instances, death."

"Get serious. He's the Commander of their security. The brother of the Sangerian leader. They won't do anything to him."

He rose and returned to the other side of the table.

"Don't be so sure of that, big sister. I think you're underestimating the Sangerians dedication to their Blood Laws." He tapped his wineglass with his finger. "Do you know how a Sangerian is executed? He's injected with the virus we made, the VECTRO virus. It was supplied to Roman for his techs to study. In the treaty, it was a point of negotiation. We figured they would never be able to break the genetic code of the virus and we had to give them something..."

Killian retrieved her napkin and laid it on her lap, unease trailing down her spine. Chance picked his fork up and took a bite of his garlic mashed potatoes.

"You gave them the very weapon that swung the war in your favor."

"We did. In a treaty, there is give and take. That was our give. In response, they agreed to stop the feeding up top and stay underground. We both consented to stop fighting. They didn't know how many of us they had killed, how weak our ranks were. The hunters were dying off. We were down to less than one hundred. So many more vampires than we ever thought. Entire families of hunters wiped out by the violence. What did you want Mom to do? The virus was our biggest weapon and bargaining chip. In order to stop the fighting, we had to give it up."

"Rurik was immune to my bullets laced with the virus."

Chance dropped his fork and it clattered to the floor. "I guess they did figure it out." He reached down, picked his fork up and set it aside. His face had gone pale. She had finally knocked him out of his composed demeanor. Now he seemed ready to take her seriously.

"I guess they did. They figured _something out_. Let's talk about how we can help each other," she said as she picked up her fork. At least one of them could finish the meal. Byron was right. With her enhanced senses, food had become a sensual pleasure.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Sangerian Coven Blood Rule number three: Decisions by the Coven formed Council are binding. No appeals process is allowed.

When she felt the familiar vibration on her roof, Killian stopped studying the blood. Only a helo-jet could make that racket. Wana began spinning. Had to be Byron. Wana didn't get excited over many people.

"Hey." He waved as he stepped down the metal stairs from the roof to her laboratory.

"Hey yourself." He slung a cooler onto the floor with a flourish.

"Dinner," he said.

"Well, hope they gave me enough to last a while this time. Can't keep having you run around like a pizza delivery boy."

He perched on the tall lab chair next to hers. She went back to studying the blood.

"What'cha doing, blood Doc?"

"Still breaking down John Ricker's blood. It changed from the normal G-profile I previously documented. Different. I think Rurik must have found a way to alter it. It's mutated to a unique strain. I'm sure that's why he removed all their G-Profiles from the computer. He didn't want anyone to even get a whiff of this. This profile is resistant to the VECTRO virus. In a big way. Might also be the reason they had enhanced strength and healing. Beyond a normal vampire."

"We're already pretty strong."

"Yeah but, Byron, this was like nothing I've ever seen. Remember my roots. I've witnessed many vampire and hunter battles. I shot Rurik four times and it didn't even faze him. It was like he was immediately healing. My squad reported the same with Ricker and Faller. They broke those force field cuffs like they were plastic. Normally, set at high, not even a vamp can break through those. They send a shock through a normal vampire that would down him in a minute, along with a cut that could sever the artery in your wrist. Sie said the shock and cut didn't even faze Ricker and Faller."

"They're going to be hard to kill."

"Well, short of blowing them to bits with a military style P-55 missile with an intricately guided warhead, you mean? Like the illegal one you used. Yes, they are going to be impossible to kill, unless..."

Byron gave a slight tilt of his lips at her little speech. He didn't seem himself. She ignored the inkling in the back of her mind.

"I need to isolate the platelets in here and see if I can figure out what retrovirus was used. Recreate it at the very least. If I can determine out what it is, then I can map out how to beat it."

"That's all like a foreign language to me, Doc. The question is; do you think you can do that?"

"Yeah, I think eventually I can. This is what I do. They don't call it Blood Squad for nothing."

"What's happening in the search for them?" Byron asked. Killian tilted her head back and rubbed her eyes. She needed a break.

"Chance is helping. We still haven't spotted any of them. The alerts I posted haven't brought any further tips. Like they dropped off the planet. Chance has tripled his security. Nothing at his building."

"Do you think you could create a substance that mimics the VECTRO virus but doesn't kill the vampire? One that would only, let's say for discussion purposes, put them into a sleep that looks like death."

"Sure, I don't need to analyze John's blood for that. It's a bit risky, but I think I could if I had a sample of the original VECTRO virus. Why do you ask?"

Byron slid an envelope from his inside jacket pocket and tapped it against his hand. He seemed distracted, sad. Not his usual perky self.

"What's the matter?"

"I have a problem. You see, I made a promise to someone I wouldn't discuss something with you. But I think I'm going to have to break my promise." He flipped the envelope back and forth.

"What are you talking about?"

"Dacon," he handed her the envelope. When he mentioned Dacon's name, her heart tripped a few beats faster. She was having the hardest time forgetting about the love of her life.

"What's this?"

"Read it."

She tore it open.

Killian, my love, my life. My life for yours. I don't regret it. I will always love you, my bond mate. Dacon.

Killian inhaled, and raised her eyes to Byron's.

"In less than thirty-two hours they're going to execute him. They'll inject him with the VECRO virus. He'll be dead in seconds."

"What?" Killian dropped the envelope; her heart shuddered, stopped, then started beating again at a rate so strong she thought it would burst from her chest. The envelope drifted in a white cloud of paper to the ground. She brought her hand to her chest. She couldn't seem to catch her breath.

"He made me swear I wouldn't do anything to help him escape. I promised him. But I didn't promise him I wouldn't solicit help from someone else or help them."

"They can't kill him. That's insane."

"It's our law. He turned an unwilling. He's been sentenced to death."

"I...this is crazy."

"You weren't willing, Killian. It's our law."

"But—"

"It's our law. We abide by our laws."

"Holy shit, Byron. They can't do this."

"I don't suppose you'd be willing to participate in a plan to free him? Because I happen to know someone you could consult with. Someone who knows the inner workings of the Coven." Byron gave a big, toothy grin. That was the Byron she was used to.

"I'm in...and if you need them...I can ask my team."

"I might at that." They clasped hands and shook.

"Let me call a meeting." She reached for her Comm.

"And I've got to acquire a few things. I'll be back." Byron waved as he headed toward the stairs.

* * * * *

"In order to bypass Dacon's security system, we need to think like him. This network is near invincible. I'll have to be on the inside to disable it," Sie said as he tapped the keys of his laptop. "I can't even get into the schematics."

"That's convenient, because I know how Dacon thinks. Try the S4523 network, under VCoven parent, password, vampiresrule." Byron tossed a balled piece of paper into the wastepaper can next to Killian's chair. Wana barked, Killian assumed, in congratulations. The recycler activated and, with a puff of smoke, blazed the paper into ash.

Sie, Jinx and Randy had all agreed to aid Dacon, no questions asked, despite the dangers involved. Killian shook her head as she glanced at her team. An unlikely band of misfits, her crew, but they were hers and, as far as she was concerned, the best the Bureau had to offer. They had formed a command center in her basement, a perfect place to plan a covert rescue mission outside of prying ears.

"What about his tracker?" Killian went back to carefully mixing the liquid in a glass beaker where she was mocking up a pseudo-VECTRO cocktail, one she titled S-VECTRO. The shot would mimic the same characteristics of the VECTRO virus, essentially killing Dacon. However, this virus would give them enough time to resuscitate him if she administered the antidote within an hour.

"We'll have to remove it in order to take his body out of the Coven or the sensors will pick it up. Who here has skills in surgery?" Byron asked as he wadded up another piece of paper.

Jinx raised her hand. "Did one year of med school before I joined the Bureau. I can remove it before I move the body." Jinx was tasked as the mortician. She would accept Dacon's dead corpse for incineration. Thank God he didn't have any complicated requests on burying his body.

"Excellent. Luckily, with Dacon incarcerated, the security center is a mess. They weren't sure who to designate Interim Security Chief until a new one was chosen, so guess who volunteered?" Byron grinned.

"I guess that would be you," Sie murmured as he tapped away. "Okay, got it. I'm in. It wasn't easy. Good you had the passwords." Sie hit a button and projected his computer screen onto the black wall. The underground cavern schematics appeared.

"This place is like the new Fort Knox." He pressed another key and entry stations highlighted in yellow and blinked on and off. "There are optical scanners and security hand cradles in all these locations. How are we going to get around those?"

Byron tossed the mashed paper up in the air and caught it. "Already done. I inputted all your retinal and hand signatures already, along with your profiles in the Book of Willing Donors."

"Roman knows what Killian looks like and the rest of us," Randy pointed out.

Byron raised a brow. "Killian will stay in the PV and let us do our jobs. She will be in charge of bringing Dacon back to life. Roman won't be anywhere near Sie or Jinx and you can disguise yourselves. Randy, you'll be hooded."

Byron was acting so casual, as if this was going to be a Sunday stroll in the park. Killian could see why Dacon was so overprotective of him.

"Byron, lots of things can go wrong in an operation like this. Do I need to remind you to take this seriously? You could be sentenced to death if we're caught and I don't think the Coven would let us walk away."

Byron tossed one more paper wad into the trash and straightened, his face dead serious.

"No, you don't have to remind me. This is my brother here. I love him with everything I have. I would gladly trade places with him right now, but he won't have it. Nothing will go wrong. Trust me." He finished the grim-faced monolog with a smile. "Oh, and likely they would kill you guys too—if they catch you."

Killian rotated her neck and poured the finished liquid into a vial. Then she started on the antidote. "If I don't revive him within the hour after he receives this injection, he could still die."

"I understand. The VECTRO is going to be replaced with yours. Randy will do it. I've set him up as the executioner, who, as a matter of security, always preps the room with the VECTRO virus. No one else has access."

"And I'll be waiting in the PV with this." Killian held up a prefilled syringe.

"Sie, with the access codes I give you, I want you to take down the South vector surveillance directly from the utility room. That location will get you within wireless range of the network. I have a janitor uniform and badge for you. Replace the surveillance with the clean chip I gave you for these halls and the elevator, then loop it."

He moved to the wall and pointed out their escape route. "The security will flicker for a moment, then give the same shot of the empty halls and elevator leading outside. Don't fool around. I'll distract the security staff for a short time before I take my place at Dacon's execution. You'll need to move fast."

Everyone nodded. Killian was impressed and even felt a swell of pride in her chest. She wished Dacon were here to see his little brother take over.

"Jinx," he nodded at the attentive blonde, "I've gotten you authorized to enter the Coven as the incineration technician. You'll wheel Dacon out those halls on a gurney to this elevator," he tapped the wall, "then directly to the PV. Sie will bring that surveillance cloak up to mask your removal of Dacon. After Jinx is done, Sie will reset the surveillance to normal. Randy, you must get out and back to the PV and be ready to move it out before the real surveillance comes back up. And Killian, you need to bring my brother back to life."

"Does everyone know what they're doing?" Killian asked as she finished packing the vials and syringe in an unbreakable case. Sie, Jinx and Randy nodded.

Byron wadded up another piece of paper. "What could go wrong, I've thought of everything?"

* * * * *

"Let's go, Dacon." The metal door slid open and the guard moved to the side so he could approach. Dacon stood and extended his arms. The guard sealed his wrists together with a pair of force field cuffs at the highest setting. Unbreakable, even for a vampire.

This is it.

He felt a strange numbness, like he was watching everything from above his body. The path to death was only a short walk away now. He would be taken to the execution room, where he would be injected with the bio-agent, VECTRO. It would kill him in five short seconds. Seemed sort of fitting he died with the same poison that had killed his father.

He wouldn't see the face of his executioner. A masked individual handled the job; the process was quick and virtually painless. He should know, he'd witnessed several executions in his time; he just never thought he would be one of them.

He had regrets, plenty of them, the biggest that he would never see Killian again. But the mishmash of emotions filtering through his brain quieted as he took that short walk down the gray concrete hall. At the end, Roman and Byron waited for him.

Byron's red-rimmed eyes teared as he approached. Dacon clasped Roman's arm. "Take care of our baby brother," he said.

Roman clutched his arm hard, seemingly unwilling to let go. Dacon tugged. Finally, Roman lifted his hand.

"And you, take care of my woman." Dacon gave a pointed stare to Byron.

Byron inclined his head. "You can count on it."

After one final glance at his brothers, Dacon allowed the guard to lead him into the execution room. Sweat was dripping down the side of his neck; his heart was hammering with the thought that these would be his final few minutes.

The hooded executioner pointed toward the seat. Dacon lifted his hands. The guard released the cuffs and led Dacon into the chair. Dacon eased into the seat, and was immediately encased by a body force field that held him to the metal. The guard nodded toward the executioner, then left the room.

The executioner slid an IV line into the top of Dacon's hand. The needle sent prickles of pain under his skin and he winced. Staring straight ahead, Dacon let the man wrap a strap around his head and bind him to the chair.

His brain shut down. He shifted his eyes to the IV line and floated in a haze of grief.

The executioner hit a button and the liquid in the hypodermic needle attached to the IV slowly receded as death stung its way into his body. Dacon's ears rang. He gasped as the air left his breathing path. His mind screamed out Killian's name.

I'll miss you, Killian. I love you, I—

The finality of blackness claimed him and he knew it was over.

* * * * *

"What's wrong?"

Killian pressed her hand on her chest to help still her uneven heartbeat as Sie whispered swear words into her ear Comm.

"The wireless isn't finding the network."

"What does that mean?"

"Stand by." She could hear the stress in Sie's tone. Everything that could go wrong—had. They were tap dancing their way through this rescue. From the dead PV that had to be replaced at the last minute, costing them precious time, to the faulty optical reader that left Jinx flirting her way into the Coven. Thank God, as Byron had promised, her manual specifications had actually been inputted into the computer and the security staff was ruffled and overworked or she wasn't sure Jinx would have made it in. She added another thank you to God that Sie, in his handy dandy janitor uniform, proceeded without issue. And much to her enormous relief, Randy had already returned from his execution duty.

Killing Dacon seemed to be the only task that went without a hitch.

"They've already administered the S-VECTRO to Dacon," she said. "I'm sure I don't need to remind you we have less than fifteen minutes here, Sie."

"You don't."

"What's happening?" Jinx's agitated question brought Killian back to her.

"Sie's having a hard time getting the dubbed surveillance into place."

"Killian, we're running out of time," Jinx reminded her. "If Sie can't get that surveillance looped, I'm going to have to shoot my way out of this joint. I'm thinking that's not the best position to be in."

"Hang in there, Jinx, he's working it now." Killian couldn't imagine the results Jinx would bring by shooting her way out of the underground Coven.

"Sie, where are we at?"

"Stand by, I'm trying to ping off the closest satellite and see if I can pick it up that way."

Killian ran both her hands through her hair and made eye contact with Randy as she tugged at the roots. Could things get any worse? It was critical she administer the antidote to Dacon within the next thirteen minutes or he was going to die anyway.

"This rescue plan sucks," Randy murmured, then faced forward and swore.

"Now what?"

"Guard, twelve o'clock. He's coming toward the van. Get back behind my seat so he can't see you. God, I hope that last minute restaurant sticker we had to slap on this thing isn't falling off." With a push of a button, Randy zipped down the window. Killian made a dive for the floorboard behind him.

"Morning, sir."

"Morning."

Killian could hear the guard shuffle his feet as he walked up to Randy's window.

"I don't have your company on my list of deliveries for today."

Randy reached to the center console and pulled out the fake paperwork Byron had provided them.

"Actually, _I'm here_ for a pick-up. Just waiting for the farm to deliver those apples for the restaurant. They said it wouldn't be any more than twenty minutes, on their way up now. Damn foreign dignitaries. They don't tell us until the last minute they chose our restaurant for dinner tonight. Then they had to have fresh apple pie with Sangerian's finest organics. Really great they can do whatever they want, huh, leaving us scrambling?"

"Yeah, I hear you."

"Hey, come by any evening. It's Anthony's on the Oakland Warf. Tell them Randy sent you, dinner's on us."

"Great, you got it." The guard handed Randy back his paperwork and slapped the door frame twice. "Have a good one, I'll tell the guard at the front."

"You too." Randy closed the window and let go of a long puff of air. "Gullible bastard. Remind me not to hire these yahoos to guard anything I value."

Killian eased to a squat and peered around Randy until the guard was out of sight.

"Sie, what's happening?"

"Almost there. Give me a couple more minutes."

"We're down to ten minutes here and lots of stuff to do," Jinx read off the time line. Killian glanced at her digital timepiece, the seconds ticking down even as she watched.

"Shit." Killian moved to the back, opened her lab kit and readied the antidote shot. They weren't going to make it.

Randy got up and laid his hand on her shoulder. "They'll pull it off, don't worry. He'll be fine."

"I hate that I can't be in there, helping them."

"I know. Hey, when have we ever let you down?" He squeezed her shoulder. His touch reassured her.

"Never."

"There you go."

"I've got it." Excitement raised Sie's voice an octave. "Tell Jinx to go. Notify me when she's clear and I'll head out."

Sie's words sent a zing of relief into Killian's frazzled brain waves. Her tensed spine relaxed. For a moment, she'd thought she was going to lose it.

"Jinx, move it out," Killian ordered.

Killian waited with unnatural gulps of air as Jinx began the process of rolling Dacon's supposedly dead body from the morgue, into the hall and up to the exit elevator. Exactly as they scripted.

The entire trip shouldn't take any more than five minutes. Killian wanted to run out of the PV, but she knew she could blow everything by showing herself. So she waited, with an impatience bordering on insanity. Suddenly the door was jerked open and Jinx slid the collapsible hospital gurney into the PV. She hopped in and shut the door. Killian whipped the sheet off Dacon and went to work, administering the shot directly into his carotid.

Randy was telling Sie he was clear to leave. Jinx peeled off her lab jacket, threw her black wig off, let her hair down and removed her fake glasses. She moved up front and pushed Randy out of the driver's seat.

"Just in case we have trouble getting out of here," she muttered.

Killian checked Dacon's vitals. Nothing _. Don't panic. It could take him up to thirty minutes to come to._ Thirty minutes of waiting to see if her cocktail would work. Thirty minutes of hell.

The side door opened and Sie jumped in. He shucked his janitor outfit and tossed his hat.

"Go," Killian ordered.

The guard at the exit gate waved them over. Killian tried to stay calm. _Now what?_

Jinx fluffed her hair and pressed her breasts up so they were pouring out of her top.

Randy let out a low growl and pasted on a smile.

Jinx slid down the window.

"Hey, there. Did you get your apples?" the guard asked.

Jinx grinned and reached her hand back to Sie, who pressed an apple into her palm.

"You bet, sweet-cakes, want one?" She drawled out in a sexy cadence as she leaned forward and offered the guard an apple out the window, along with a lovely view of her cleavage spilling out her shirt.

"Ahh, maybe later on." The guard's eyes were pasted to Jinx's chest.

"Look me up, I'm in the book." She batted her eyelashes.

"I'll do that. Have a good day, now."

"You too." Jinx winked at him as she maneuvered the PV onto the speedway.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Sangerian Coven Blood Rule number twenty: Lifelong Ceremonial Mating between converted humans and Coven vampires must be authorized by the Coven Council and Chief of Security.

Dacon awoke to the bump of his head against a hard surface. He groaned and opened his eyes. A white sheet covered his body. He eased up a corner. He was completely naked and very confused.

"He's waking up," Randy's voice confirmed what he was seeing.

"Good." Killian's concerned expression appeared next to Randy's.

"Not so fun waking up with a doozy of a headache, is it? You deserved it." She ran a damp cloth along his forehead. Felt good.

"Okay, on that note, I'll go naggravate." Randy pressed around the two back bucket seats up to the front of the PV. He could see Sie in the passenger seat next to the driver, Jinx.

He took in his surroundings. The white lines of the metal hull inside the PV shouldn't look familiar, but they did.

"What did you do?" His voice was gritty, as if he had been eating dirt with rocks mixed in. He reached up and felt the bandage on the side of his neck.

"Here." Killian slid her arm under his torso and lifted his body. His sheet fell down, displaying his naked chest. She shoved a water bottle in his face. He drank deeply.

"Killian, what did you do?" His voice was stronger now and on the verge of a yell.

"Calm down. We executed a little escape plan is all. Nothing to worry about. If I were you, ahh, well I wouldn't go back down to the Coven again. Ever." She punctuated the remark by pushing him onto his back. He immediately jackknifed up.

"You rescued me from the Coven?" He couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"Rescued is a weak word. More like...let them kill you...then facilitated the retrieval of your body. For burial, of course. Really easy rescue."

The rest of her squad broke out in snickers, chuckles and groans.

Dacon lowered his voice and tipped Killian's chin up with his finger. "You must take me back."

"Yeah. Well. About that...no way. Forget it." She laid the cool cloth back onto his head. He plucked it off and tossed it aside.

"This is not a joke. They will hunt you down for this crime and kill you. I had resigned myself to my fate. My life for yours. That's the way it must be—"

"I said no," she growled out the word, displaying her new vampire fangs as she said it. He couldn't help it. The site of her enraged and so feminine aroused him. He took in a deep breath.

"To the Sangerian Coven, you are now dead. No one knows otherwise. Per your wishes, your body was delivered for incineration. The logs have been documented, your body declared dead and disposed of. There's no going back. Not for you, anyway."

"Who helped you do this?" She shook her head to the negative and sat back against the side of the PV.

"Randy was your executioner."

Randy waved a hand. "You took it really well, dude. Politely cooperative when I was killing you. I think I would have fought, but hey, that's me...it was your execution."

Dacon dropped his head into his hand.

"Jinx was your incineration technician and surgeon." Jinx waved a hand. "Took a while to burn all those beautiful muscles of yours into dust and dig out your secular device," she said.

"And Sie worked the access."

"You really need to update that stuff, Dacon. Easy-cheesy to break into." Sie snorted.

"And I," she placed a hand on her chest, "was the medical technician." She eased the bandage off his neck, gave a nod and threw it into the medical kit. "Nicely healed. Good."

"Who helped you from the Coven? You couldn't have done this with just your team."

"I won't tell you that. He asked me not to. The Coven will not be searching for you. You'll need to keep a low profile is all. I have tools." She held up a two small boxes and flipped open a wallet. He leaned in and studied her offerings.

"Blond hair dye. Brown contacts. Driver's License and credit swipes for John Gray?" He raised a single brow. "Are you serious?"

"They say blonds really do have more fun." She grinned. "Hey, I had to pull things together fast." She tossed him the wallet. It fell onto his lap. He placed his fingers to his closed eyes and rubbed in a slow circle. He really did have a headache and this crazy story wasn't helping any.

"It was Byron, wasn't it?" She gave him a neutral stare. "I'm going to kill him," he murmured as he opened his eyes.

"Let's just say that, no matter how hard he tries, Byron won't recognize you and leave it at that."

He slammed his fist into the floor of the PV. The hit caused the vehicle to jump.

"Hey, calm down back there. I need to keep this baby in my lane," Jinx yelled.

"What about the surveillance camera feed?"

"I told you, Sie took care of it." She handed him a shirt. He slipped it on.

"And how am I supposed to survive up top?"

"Your car will be delivered to my warehouse in a couple days. Luckily, you willed all your assets to Byron. Your credits have been transferred into a special offshore account. Good thing you were rich. I can't support both of us on my government salary."

She scooted closer and caressed his shadowed jaw. The smooth touch of her soft skin against the roughness of his set his heart drumming. "You have a job. I arranged for you to work as a contractor on my squad. I need someone to liaison with Chance to find Rurik and the rest of the rogue vampires. I need you," she said as she laid her forehead against his.

"You have everything all worked out, then? I'm not happy about the way you did this," he said. He attempted to sound firm, but his resolve didn't last for long. He folded her into his arms. Her squad let out an echo of ohhh's and ahhh's.

"Shut up," Killian admonished them, but the heat behind her words wasn't there.

"Let's talk about this at my place, okay." She kissed his cheek. His body hardened, along with other parts. Having her this close to him was playing havoc on his system.

"Please tell me you brought me more than a shirt?" He pushed her back. She stared at the tenting sheet.

"Uh, yeah. Sure did." She dug a pair of cargo pants from the duffel bag and tossed them to him. He slid them on under the sheet. Then she held up a pair of socks and his own combat boots.

"Where did you get those?"

"A friend took a few minutes to raid your closet."

He accepted the shoes, sliding them on.

"Humm," she tapped her finger against her mouth. "I like this look better then the formal suits. Very sexy." He opened his mouth to say something to address her sauciness, then decided against it.

"You seriously think this whole thing is going to work?" He laced up his boots and made eye contact with her.

"We'll make it work. Byron is the only one allowed up top. Roman's not an issue. Besides them, we'll make sure you're low key. We'll move if we have to."

"Roman too?" he growled.

"Not as bad as Byron," she grinned at him sheepishly.

He rolled his eyes. Dacon linked his fingers with Killian's and drew her into him. Tucking her head under his chin, he ran his hand over her hair. What was he going to do with her?

* * * * *

"Thanks, guys. See ya in a few days." They yelled out catcalls as Killian made her way into her building. She waved a hand behind her head to visibly tell them to keep going.

Dacon trailed her. They settled into the front room. Wana greeted him with her traditional canine excitement as Killian reached up and pulled down a bottle of wine. Dacon remembered a time she wasn't even able to reach that shelf. He was glad she could now. She poured two glasses and sauntered over to hand him a glass.

"This wine is minus my blood. Sorry about that," she sneered as she plopped down on the chair across from him.

"Killian—"

"Yes, I'm still pissed about that." She sipped her wine and regarded him with a good amount of hostility.

He slumped onto the sofa, setting the wine on the stand next to him. He felt like he was losing the fight already.

"Then why did you do this for me?"

She set her glass on the table with a click, walked over and knelt on the floor at his feet. She drew his hands into hers.

"Because I love you, you jerk." Dacon's heart froze. His head spun. He was afraid he hadn't heard her right.

"Just like that?" He reached down and tumbled her into his arms, easing her back onto the couch, his body covering hers.

"Just like that. No wishy-washy here, remember."

"Wish-wash," he teased against her lips, suddenly he felt as if the weight of the world had been lifted off his shoulders. Everything would be okay now.

"I love you. What were you thinking? Your life for mine? That's bullshit." She nibbled at his jaw.

"I was thinking I couldn't live without you."

She skimmed her mouth toward his. "That's very sweet."

He lifted his head and stared at her, his face frozen, nostrils flaring, jaw muscles tensing. He wanted her to understand. "This isn't about sweet. This is about you. You are mine. My bond mate. I will die for you."

"You will not die for me, you idiot," Killian's snarled, angry response matching his own.

He took in a deep breath. She was so stubborn and beautiful and... He kissed her, long and hard, pouring all his frustration into their mating mouths.

His. She was his.

"While buried deep inside you, I want to feed you," he said in a low voice.

"Ummm. That sounds kinky, I love it when you talk vampire dirty to me." She slid her hands into his hair and tugged him down for another kiss.

"You'll never feel anything as good as this. I assure you," he said.

"Oh, I'm looking forward to it. I figured you've sucked my blood. Now I get to suck yours. Bring it on." Her words lit his body on fire like kindling and sent his hands ripping. Removing their clothes became an urgent priority. They tangled fingers as they threw pants, shirts and underclothing in all different directions. Her naked body glowed white in the darkness of night, a work of sensual art and all his.

He lifted her into his arms and carried her to her bedroom, intent on worshipping that artwork with everything he was worth. Laying her on the bed, he crawled on top and began his onslaught. He wanted to taste her, touch her and love her like only her mate could. She was soft to the touch, every inch of her skin pure velvet under his fingertips. Her nipples peaked in her arousal. The sight excited him. He took one into his mouth, tasted the sweetness of her skin, rounded the peak with his tongue and enjoyed her sigh.

"I love you," he ground out as he laved her stomach, working down farther until he licked her heat. She arched and moaned. He took her clit into his mouth and sucked, she screamed, tunneling her hands into his hair. He worked her until she was wet, begging and ready for him.

Easing up her body, he drove home, sliding into her as far as he could. She moaned and cried out. He loved the noises she made when he pleased her. Now he wanted to taste her blood. He leaned over the creamy span of her neck and licked her scar. She let out a long whimper on the tail end of a groan. He smiled against her neck.

"You know why this scar is so sensitive?" She shook her head, seemingly mindless. She only mumbled at his question.

"Because the first mark of a mated pair will always scar and be sensitive to the touch. It reminds you that you're mine, Killian."

"Great," she moaned out, then screamed, "Dacon," when he sank his teeth into her neck and took her blood. He pumped his hips in rhythm to his sucking motion. She clutched her hands into his shoulder and seized him, her fingernails scoring into his skin. The pleasure of the pain was intense. Dacon held on to his restraint, his body tensing, his arms flexing, breaths sucking in and out. He held on until he couldn't stand it, until Killian orgasmed, milking his cock. He exploded in a flash of light.

He raised his mouth and licked his bite, then rolled, flipping Killian on top, giving her the power.

They weren't done.

He held onto her hips and thrust up. He was still hard and buried deep, just where he wanted to be.

"Ahh," she dropped her head back and rode him.

"Bite me, Killian." He didn't like to beg, but he did. She dropped her head forward and stared at him.

"Ahhh, I've never bitten anyone before," she said as she leaned over him. The thrill of her words moved through him. He was and would always be her first.

"I will be the only person you will bite."

"Stop sounding so Neanderthal."

He chuckled and ran his hand along her arm, stroking it. She shivered. "Sorry, that jealousy emotion again."

She smiled and nudged his head to the side with her index finger. He surrendered to her will, giving her his neck. Her canines extended, he could feel the need to feed was moving through her. He tensed, waiting, wanting.

"Just do what comes naturally. Take what I offer." He raised an arm, anchored his hand on the back of her head and lowered her mouth to his skin.

She ran her tongue along the pumping artery. He drove his hips up in response, the feeling of having her touch him like this better than any foreplay he had ever experienced. She purred out a rumble. Then she ever-so slowly sank her teeth into his neck. He detonated, his body arching up into hers, every emotion he owned becoming focused on her, on her teeth, her mouth, the sexual idea of his blood pouring from him into her, sharing his life.

"Yesss," he shouted as she sucked, the pain hitting him first, then the extreme pleasure. His hand tightened in her hair. He wasn't in charge anymore. His body, his mind; they were all hers. She sucked and tilted her hips against his erection. He sighed, closed his eyes, and let their combined emotions take over; it was only her and him, nothing else. He drove up to meet her until he couldn't wait. Too much, it was all too much. He exploded in a yell of pleasure, thinking he might pass out from the force of his orgasm, or hers, he wasn't sure which.

Dacon panted, a fast inhale followed by an exhale. He sucked in a slow, unsteady breath and tried to calm his battering heart. The scent of Sangerian rose edged up into his consciousness. Killian lifted her head, licked his neck, tucked herself under his chin and snuggled. He eased his arms around her.

"That was..."

"Mind-blowing."

"Very satisfying," she said.

They both laughed. She slid herself off him and rolled to his side. He turned and took her into his arms.

"Didn't I tell you that you would find feeding very pleasurable?"

"No, you told me converting to a vampire was very pleasurable. I don't remember that experience as very pleasurable." Reminding him of that day spun him into agony.

"Thank God, I got there in time."

"You know...I kind of like you all out of control and under me like that." She changed the tone of the conversation from grave to happy.

He smiled and shook his head. "Feel free to have me under you anytime you want."

"I'd like you to marry me," she said as she twisted and spread out over his body.

"Is this important to you, this human wedding ceremony?"

"Well, you know what us humans say...old habits..." He quirked a brow at her.

"If it's important to you, then I am more than willing to do it."

"Don't think I've ever heard a man go down so quickly about the subject of marriage."

"I don't know what that means."

"Never mind," she said, soothing a hand over his brow.

"Thank you. For everything," she said as she kissed him. He ran his hands along her back and settled them on her buttocks.

"You're more than welcome. So when do I start working with Chance's group?"

"Three days. I've given us three days off. Then we'll get back to work. This isn't over. By far."

"No, it's just beginning. Three days," he rolled her back under him. She squealed and hit his shoulder.

"I think I can think of a very pleasurable activity to keep us busy for three days."

"I bet you can," she laughed, then gasped when he licked her neck.

"This tattoo is very sexy," she purred as she touched his shoulder.

"Now it holds a whole new meaning. It reminds me of you, delicate and beautiful, with a fragrance I will never forget."

"And with thorns."

"Even with the thorns, I still love it. Tell me when you've had enough," he said against her throat.

"I'll never get enough of you, Dacon." He smiled. He hoped she didn't, because he had plans for her.

The End.

Sangerian Coven Blood Rules

1-Sangerian Coven Blood Rule number one: Turning a human who is not within the Book of the Select Willing Donors is punishable by death.

2-Sangerian Coven Blood Rule number two: Blood is the life of the clan. Protect the privilege of your vampire heritage by abiding by all The Sangerian Coven Blood Rules or face the consequences.

3-Sangerian Coven Blood Rule number three: Decisions by the Coven formed Council are binding. No appeals process is allowed.

5-Sangerian Coven Blood Rule number five: To murder another is punishable by death.

20-Sangerian Coven Blood Rule number twenty: Lifelong Ceremonial Mating between converted humans and Coven vampires must be authorized by the Coven Council and Chief of Security.

55-Sangerian Coven Blood Rule number fifty-five: The Security of the Coven will be commanded by a Sangerian blood relative, passed down throughout the test of time.

74-Sangerian Coven Blood Rule number seventy-four: The Chief of Security will investigate all initial violations of the Sangerian Blood Rules.

87- Sangerian Coven Blood Rules number eighty-seven: Taking human blood will form a connection with the giver. For this reason, doing so has been restricted to the Willing per the Treaty of the Vampire-Human Factions.

230-Sangerian Coven Blood Rule number two hundred thirty: The Treaty of the Vampire-Human factions requires that vampires seek approval from the Chief of Security before entering the human world.

275-Sangerian Coven Blood Rule number two hundred seventy-five: Making contact with the Realm of Human Hunters is forbidden unless direct approval is received by the Chief of Security, and only in circumstances of extreme need.

349-Sangerian Coven Blood Rule number three hundred forty-nine: Loyalty in the clan is vital to the success of the Coven. Actions of disloyalty will be labeled treason and subject the offender's action to prosecution under Coven law. This will be punishable up to and including death.

460-Sangerian Coven Blood Rule number four hundred sixty. Bringing humans into the Coven homeland requires approval from the Chief of Security and a detailed background investigation, cross-referenced with the Book of Select and Willing Donors.

570-Sangerian Coven Blood Rule number five hundred and seventy: Respect of your chosen mate is required at all times. A complaint of disrespect may be lodged with any Coven Blood Council member.

582-Sangerian Coven Blood Rule number five hundred eighty-two: Protection of chosen mate is mandatory at all times.

655-Sangerian Coven Blood Rule number six hundred fifty-five: Release of blood lust is only allowed under certain circumstances; with a member of the Book of Select, Willing Donors or in controlled situations detailed in the Sangerian Coven Blood Rules Descriptive Handbook, i.e., when mating and during mock battle.

870-Sangerian Coven Blood Rule number eight hundred twenty: Since the implementation of the Vampire-Human Faction treaty, the use of high-power war weapons are no longer authorized.

Sangerian Coven Blood Rules Descriptive Handbook

29-Sangerian Coven Blood Rules Descriptive Handbook page 29. The first mark of a vampire on a willing human will scar and be sensitive to the touch.

45-Sangerian Coven Blood Rules Descriptive Handbook, Page 45. The active formation of clan members to discuss treasonous activity is considered an action of disloyalty under Sangerian Blood Coven Rule number three hundred forty-nine.

345-Sangerian Coven Blood Rules Descriptive Handbook page 345. Giving your own blood to a willing human from the Book of Select donors will create an unbreakable bond. Be wary to whom you grant this privilege.

430-Sangerian Coven Blood Rules Descriptive Handbook page 430. The bond formed during The Sangerian Claiming Ceremony is too strong to break; therefore it will only be practiced with your future mate. For information on the ceremony see page 431.

435-Sangerian Coven Blood Rules Descriptive Handbook page 435. A Sangerian Coven bond mate must be revered above all others.

436-Sangerian Coven Blood Rules Descriptive Handbook page 436. When turning a human to vampire, after the initial blood-letting, the feedings must be immediate and frequent. The technicians of the V-medical center are the best group to assist in handling the conversion recovery phase of turning.

437-Sangerian Coven Blood Rules Descriptive Handbook page 437. Newly formed vampires will be very emotional. Take the time to show them the way of their new life.

524-Sangerian Coven Blood Rules Descriptive Handbook, Page 524. Dealings taken to rebel against a final Council decision will be considered actions of disloyalty under Sangerian Blood Coven Rule number three hundred forty-nine.

Dedication

To my sister, who successfully distracted me from illness to request this book; Wen, this one's for you. To my husband of many, many years who I couldn't live without, my eternal bond-mate. You have my undying love. To my yahoo group, whose members have supported me through the years. Thank you, guys.

Trademark Acknowledgement

The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

Trademark Name: Neurontin Trademark Owner Warner-Lambert Company LLC

Trademark Name: Wizard of OZ Owner Turner Entertainment Co. CORPORATION GEORGIA One CNN Center Box 105366 Atlanta GEORGIA 303485366

Trademark Name: Star Trek Trademark Owner Paramount Pictures Corporation CORPORATION DELAWARE 5555 Melrose Avenue Hollywood CALIFORNIA 90038

Author Note

Sangerian Rose was originally titled Blood Squad and was the Romance Writers of America 2006 Golden Heart Award winning novel. Thank you to everyone who participated in the contest for your support of my writing.

