Chapter Eighteen

"You pompous little bitch!" the infuriated Were shouted, red-faced and with his thugs backing him. "What are you doing here?"

Mrs. Sarong pushed past the men who had put themselves in front of her. "Arranging your removal," she said, her voice sharp and her eyes glaring.

Removal? As if he were an overgrown tree clogging the sewer line?

The short businessman seemed to choke on his own breath, becoming choleric. Mouth gaping to look like one of his prize fish, he struggled to respond. "Like hell you are!" he finally managed. "That's what I wanted to talk to her about!"

From my shoulder came a small, "Holy crap, Rache. How did you become Cincy's assassin of choice?"

I stared at the two packs separated by little round tables. Mr. Ray-wants to contract me to take Mrs. Sarong out?

The clicks of cocking weapons startled me from my shock.

"Grab some air, Jenks!" I shouted, kicking over a table and filling the space it had been in.

Jenks left me in a dazzling burst of gold sparkles. A whiff of musk and David had my back, that freaking big-ass rifle in his grip making him look like a gunslinger out for revenge. Kisten leapt forward. Blond hair swinging, he stepped between the two packs, his arms up in placation but his expression hard. The air pressure shifted, and suddenly Steve was there, too.

Everyone froze. My pulse hammered, and my knees went watery. It was too much like the time I had stormed in here looking for Piscary after he had blood-raped Ivy. Except this time there were a lot of pointed guns.

Sweating, I watched Kisten force the visible tension from his face and stance until he was the casual, confident bar manager on the surface. "I don't give a rat's ass if you kill each other," he said, his voice carrying well. "But you'll take it out of my bar and into the lot, like everyone else."

David pressed into my back, and with his warmth grounding me, I took a deep breath. "No one is going to kill anyone," I said. "I called you here, and you are all going to sit down so we can settle this like Inderlanders, not animals. Got it?"

Mr. Ray took a step forward, a short finger pointing at Mrs. Sarong. "I'm going to rip - "

A burst of angst lit through me. "I said shut up!" I shouted. "What is wrong with you?" My bag was heavy on my shoulder, and though I could bring out my splat gun, I didn't know whom I'd aim it at. At this point no one was aiming at me. I think. And to tap a line and make a circle might just set them all off. No one was shooting - I'd work from there.

"I'm not going to kill Mrs. Sarong," I said to Mr. Ray.

To my left, Mrs. Sarong stiffened, but she looked pissed, not afraid.

"And I'm not going to go after Mr. Ray for you," I added.

Mr. Ray harrumphed, wiping his brow with a white handkerchief. "I don't need your help to pin the whiny bitch," he said, and the men surrounding him tensed as if to rush her.

That just ticked me off. This was my party, damn it. Weren't they listening? "Hey! Hey!" I shouted. "Excuse me, but I'm the one you both wanted to contract to kill each other. I suggest," I said sarcastically, "that we all sit at that big table over there, just you, and you, and me." I looked at the weapons still cocked and pointed. "Alone."

Mrs. Sarong nodded in a show of acquiescence, but Mr. Ray sneered. "You can say anything in front of my pack," he stated belligerently.

"Fine." I stepped from David, and he uncocked his weapon. "I'll talk to Mrs. Sarong."

The collected woman smiled cattily at the flustered man and turned to give her daughter a word of instruction. She was just as stymied as Mr. Ray, but by calmly capitulating rather than insisting we do it her way, she looked more in control. Intrigued, I filed the wisdom away for more thought later. If I have a later.

"You got this okay?" I murmured to David.

I could smell the musk coming off him, thick and heady from his tension. The depression was gone, leaving only a capable-looking man with a rifle that could blow a hole in an elephant. It was a vampire killer. It would work on Weres, easy.

"No problem, Rachel," he said, his brown eyes everywhere but on me. "I'll keep them right where they are."

"Thanks." I touched his upper arm. He flicked his gaze to mine, then backed up a step, his duster furling about the tops of his boots.

My breath came out in a long exhalation. Pulse slowing, I stepped between the two Were factions and those guns, headed for the table at the foot of the stairs. Kisten was still standing in the middle of the room, and he was pulled into my wake as I passed him. The hair on the back of my neck prickled, but it was from the Weres, not him.

"I've got this under control," I said softly, my lips barely moving. "Why don't you go fold more of those napkins?"

"I can see that," he said, smiling despite the tension in his soft voice. Jenks joined us from the ceiling, and under their twin scrutiny I rubbed my fingertips into my forehead. Crap, I was getting a headache. This wasn't the way I had planned it, but how was I supposed to know they both wanted to contract me to kill each other?

"I think she's doing great," Jenks said. "There are eighteen weapons in this place, and not one has gone off yet. Nineteen if you count the one in Patricia's thigh holster."

Exhausted, I glanced behind me to the slight Were. Yeah, with that slit skirt, a thigh holster would work really well.

Kisten touched my elbow. "I'm not leaving this room," he said, his blue eyes almost fully dilated. "But this is your run. Where do you want Steve and me?"

I slowed my steps, pleased to see that Mr. Ray had seated himself opposite Mrs. Sarong - a good five feet between them. "The door?" I asked. "One of them probably called in more people, and I don't want this to become a population contest."

"You got it," he said, and with a soft smile he slipped away. He spoke to Steve, and the large vampire went out to the parking lot, a cell phone in his thick hand and his fingers busy.

Satisfied, I headed to the table. Nineteen guns? I thought, gut clenching. Nice. Maybe I should put myself in a bubble and say "go." Call whoever's still standing in five minutes the winner.

"Jenks," I said as I neared the table, "stay back, will you? Work communication between us? It's only supposed to be me and them. No seconds."

Still hovering, he put his hands on his hips. His angular features seemed pinched, making him look older than he really was. "No one counts pixies as people!" he protested.

I met his eyes squarely. "I count you, and it wouldn't be fair."

His wings flashed a pleased embarrassment, and a sprinkling of dust slipped from him. Nodding, he zipped away in a clatter of dragonfly wings.

Alone, I took the chair with my back to the kitchen door, confident no one would be coming in that way with Steve outside. I could smell the odor of dough rising for pizza, and the tang of tomatoes. Pizza sounded really good for tonight.

Forcing the thought from me, I settled myself, opening my bag as I set it on my lap. The heavy weight of my splat gun was comfortable, and I tried not to think about the weapons Mr. Ray and Mrs. Sarong probably had on them.

"First," I said, trembling inside from the adrenaline, "I'd like to extend my condolences to both of you on the loss of your pack members."

On my right, Mr. Ray pointed rudely at Mrs. Sarong. "I won't tolerate you harassing my pack," he stated, cheeks quivering. "The death of my secretary was an out-and-out declaration of war. Something I'm prepared to see through."

Mrs. Sarong sniffed, looking down her nose at him. "Murdering my aide is intolerable. I will not pretend that it wasn't you."

God! They were at it again! "Both of you stop it!" I exclaimed.

Ignoring me, Mr. Ray leaned across the table to Mrs. Sarong. "You don't have the balls to warn me off of what's mine by right. We will find the statue, and you will sit at my feet like the bitch you are."

Whoa! I thought, and a sudden wash of cold reasoning shocked through me. This was about the focus, not their respective dead. I glanced at David, and his lips pressed together. Case solved. They were murdering each other.

But Mrs. Sarong was inching her hand to her waistband and the one-bullet gun she probably had there. "I didn't kill your secretary," she said, keeping Ray's attention on her face and not her hands. "But I'd like to thank whoever did. Killing my aide to feign that you don't have the focus makes you a coward. If you can't hold it by strength and must rely on stealth, you don't deserve it. I have more control over Cincinnati than you do anyway."

"Me!" the incensed Were shouted, bringing Steve in for a quick look around. "I don't have it, but I damn well will get it. I haven't so much as sniffed the footprints of your dog-infested pack, but I will take every last member of it if you keep up this farce."

From the corner of my sight, I watched David take a threatening grip on his vamp killer of a weapon. The two factions were getting antsy.

"That's enough," I said, feeling like a playground monitor. "Both of you shut up!"

Mr. Ray turned to me. "You're a thieving, mewling bitch!" the pudgy Were exclaimed, his supremacy firmly entrenched in his mind.

David hefted his rifle, and the Weres brought for muscle started to shift on their feet. From my other side, Mrs. Sarong smiled like the devil and crossed her legs, saying the same thing as Mr. Ray without uttering a word. I was losing control. I had to do something.

Pissed, I drew myself up and tapped a line. Immediately my hair started to float, and from the middle of the room came an uneasy murmur. I focused on the two of them, unable to break eye contact after I took it. "I think you mean witch," I said softly, my fingers moving in nonsense as I pretended to set a ley line spell. But they didn't know that. "I suggest you relax. And that fish was a rescue, not a theft," I added, my face warming. Okay, maybe my conscience was still smarting.

"You're both idiots," I added, staring at Mr. Ray. "Killing each other for a stupid-ass statue when neither one of you has it. How lame is that?"

Mrs. Sarong cleared her throat. "You know he doesn't have it... how?" she drawled.

A good dozen answers fell through my brain, but the only one that they would believe would be the one that was the most impossible. "Because I have it," I said, praying it was the answer that would keep me breathing for another day.

Silence greeted my claim. Then Mr. Ray laughed. I jumped when his hand slapped down onto the table, but Mrs. Sarong's gaze was fixed on the Weres behind me, her face paling. "You!" the heavy Were said between guffaws. "If you have the focus, I'll eat my shorts."

My lips pressed together, but Mrs. Sarong spoke next. "You take ketchup with your silk, Simon?" she said sourly. "I think she's got it."

Mr. Ray stopped laughing. His brown eyes noted her ashen hue, and then he looked to me. "Her?" he said in disbelief.

My pulse quickened, and I wondered if I had made a mistake and they'd band together to take it from me before turning against each other once more.

"Look at her alpha," the slight woman said, pointing with her eyes.

We all looked. David was sitting half on a table with one foot on the floor, the other draped down and hanging. His duster was open to show his trim body, and his rifle was in his hands. Yes, it was a big gun, but there were - as Jenks said - nineteen other weapons in the place. Yet there he was holding two aggressive packs still and silent.

David had always been an impressive individual, having the standing of an alpha and the mystique of a loner. But even I could see the new expectation in his manner. He wasn't just capable of dominating another Were; he expected it to happen without a complaint. It was the focus's magic trickling through him. He had gained the power of creation, and though it had resulted in the deaths of innocents, it didn't lesson the magnitude of what that meant.

"My God," Mr. Ray said. Eyes wide, he turned to me. "You have it." He swallowed. "You really have it?"

Mrs. Sarong had taken her hands from the threat of her weapon and set them on the table. It was a submissive move, and a chill took me. What have I done? Will I survive it?

"You were there, at the bridge, weren't you? When the Mackinaw Weres found it?" she said coolly.

I leaned back to distance myself. What I wanted to do was run away. "I had it before that, actually," I admitted. "I was up there rescuing my boyfriend." I fixed on her eyes, wondering if they were a shade chagrined. "The one you think I killed," I added.

My pulse hammered when she dropped her eyes for an instant, then returned them to me. God help me, what have I become?

Mr. Ray wasn't convinced. "Give it to me," he demanded. "You can't hold it. You're a witch."

One down, one to go, I thought, scared, but to back down now would end my life more quickly than publicly claiming the stupid thing. "I'm his alpha," I said, nodding to David. "I say that says I can."

The man's eyes narrowed. Looking as if he had cracked a rotten egg, he said, "I'll make you part of my pack. That's my best offer. Take it."

"Take it or what?" I allowed a touch of sarcasm into my voice. "I have a pack, thank you. And why does everyone keep telling me I can't do things? I've got it. You don't. I'm not giving it to you. End of story. So you can stop killing each other trying to find out where it is."

"Simon," Mrs. Sarong said caustically, "shut your yap. She has it. Deal with it."

I would have tried to find a compliment in that but figured her support would only last until she found a way to kill me.

Mr. Ray met her gaze, and something I didn't understand passed between them. David felt it. So did every Were in the place. Like a wave, they all relaxed. I felt ill when both packs shifted and every weapon was put away. My worry tightened. Damn and double damn. I can't afford to trust this.

"I didn't target your aide," Mr. Ray said, his thick arms going to rest atop the table.

"I didn't touch your secretary," the woman said, taking out a compact and checking her makeup. It snapped shut, and she met his eyes squarely. "No one in my pack did either."

Just peachy damn keen. They were talking, but I didn't think I was in control. "Fine," I said. "Nobody is killing anybody, but we still have two murdered Weres." The two of them had given me their full attention, and my stomach knotted. "Look," I said, very uncomfortable, "someone besides us knows the focus is in Cincinnati and is looking for it. It might be the island Weres. Has either of you heard of a new pack in town?"

As I thought of Brett, they both shook their heads.

Okay. Swell. Back to square one. I wanted them to leave, so I leaned back as if in dismissal. I'd seen Trent do it a couple of times, and it seemed to work for him. "I'll keep looking for the murderer, then," I said, glancing at their thugs. "Until I figure out who's doing this, will you two let go of each other's throats?"

Mr. Ray sniffed loudly. "I will if she does."

Mrs. Sarong's smile was stilted and clearly false. "I can do the same. I need to make a few calls. Before sunset." A pointed look at her daughter and the young woman excused herself, cell phone in hand as she went outside. Mr. Ray gestured, and one of his men followed her.

I wondered what Mrs. Sarong had planned for sunset, then dismissed it. I didn't like the two of them fighting, but I liked this cooperation even less. Perhaps it was time for a little personal CYA. "The focus is hidden," I said. Sort of. "It's in the ever-after," I continued, and they stared at me, Mr. Ray's fingers twitching. Liar, I thought, not feeling a twinge of guilt. "Neither of you can find it, much less get it." Lie, lie, li-i-i-ie. "If I go missing, neither of you gets it. If any of my friends or family go missing, I'm going to destroy it."

Ever the one to test the limits in as crass a manner as possible, Mr. Ray harrumphed. "And I should take you seriously because... ?"

I stood, wanting them to leave. "Because you were ready to hire me to do something you couldn't. Kill Mrs. Sarong."

Mrs. Sarong smiled at him and shrugged.

Just a bit more, I thought, and maybe I can sleep tonight. "And because I have a demon who owes me a favor," I added, my pulse quickening.

No, a small part of my mind whispered, and I stifled a surge of fear for what I was doing. I was accepting that Minias owed me. I was accepting his bargain. I was dealing with demons. But the thought of these two people descending upon my life, setting fire to my church and burning it to the ground in search of that stupid statue filled me with a more immediate fear. Fear for myself, I could deal with. Fear for others, I couldn't.

"If something happens I don't like," I said, "he's going to come looking for you. And you know what?" My pulse pounded, and I held the table for balance as vertigo took me. "He likes killing things, so he might be a little overzealous about it. It wouldn't surprise me if he took you both out to be sure he gets the right person."

Mr. Ray's eyes dropped to my wrist, my demon mark clearly visible.

"Make your calls," I said, ready to dissolve into the shakes. "Calm your people. And keep your mouths shut. If the word gets out I've got it, it will decrease your chances that you'll find a way around my demon and get it yourself." I took a moment and captured their eyes. "Do we have an understanding?"

Mrs. Sarong stood, her purse in her tight grip before her. "Thank you for the drink, Ms. Morgan. It was a most enlightening conversation."

Kisten came out from behind the bar as she headed for the door, her entire entourage flowing into her wake. The sun entered in a flash as the door opened, and I squinted, feeling like I had been at the bottom of a hole for three weeks. Mr. Ray looked me up and down, his fleshy cheeks slack and unmoving. Giving me a nod, he made a gesture to his people and followed her out, their pace slow and provocative, weapons tucked away as they filed through the door.

I stood where I was until the last of them passed the threshold. I waited a bit longer until the door slipped shut and put me back in darkness. Only now did I give in and let my knees buckle. I could hear Kisten crossing the room, and I put my head on the table and sighed.

I had a reputation for dealing with demons. I didn't want it, but if it would keep those I loved safe, then I was going to use it.

Chapter Nineteen

Kisten's boat was big enough that the wake from the tourist steamers just smacked into it, never making the sleek cruiser move. I'd been on it before, even spent a couple of weekends learning how well voices carry over dark, still water and to take my shoes off at the dock. It was three decks if you counted the highest where the controls were. Big enough to party on, as Kisten said, but small enough that he didn't feel like he had extended his reach.

Well, it's beyond my reach, I thought as I sopped up the last of the spaghetti sauce off the lightweight china with a corner of grilled bread. But if you were a vampire whose boss ran the uglier parts of Cincinnati's underground, appearances mattered.

The bread had been swiped from Piscary's kitchen nearby. I had a feeling the sauce had been, too. I didn't care if Kisten was trying to pass it off as his own cooking by warming it up on his tiny stove. The point was, we were having a relaxing dinner instead of arguing that I had put my job before his plans to take me out for my birthday.

I looked up and across the candlelit, sunken living room, my plate balanced on my lap. We could have eaten in the kitchen or out on the spacious veranda, but the kitchen was claustrophobic and the veranda too exposed. My encounter with Mr. Ray and Mrs. Sarong had me uneasy. Add on Tom's shunned invitation and you could color me paranoid.

Being surrounded by four walls was much better. The luxuriously appointed living room stretched from one side of the boat to the other, looking like a movie set, with wide windows showing the city lights and moon shining on water to one side, curtains closed on the other so I didn't have to look at Piscary's parking lot.

Technically Kisten was working - which was why we were here and not at a real restaurant - but when we had slipped into the kitchen to snatch a bottle of wine and the bread, I'd heard him tell Steve that he didn't want to be bothered unless blood was in someone's mouth.

It felt nice to sit that high in his priorities, and with my face still holding the pleasure from that thought, I lifted my eyes, finding Kisten watching me from across the low coffee table between us, the candlelight giving his blue eyes an artificial, dangerous darkness.

"What?" I asked, flushing since he obviously had been watching me for some time.

His contented smile deepened, and a thrill of emotion lifted through me. "Nothing." His voice was soft. "Every thought you have crosses your face. I like watching."

"Mmmm." Embarrassed, I set my plate atop his empty one and leaned into the couch, wineglass in hand. He stood and in a hunched motion shifted to sit beside me. Easing back, he exhaled in satisfaction when our shoulders touched. The stereo changed tracks, and light jazz came on. I wasn't going to say anything about the incongruity of mixing vampires and a soprano saxophone but sighed, enjoying the scent of leather and silk blending with his scent of incense and the lingering odor of pasta sauce. But my smile vanished when my nose started to tickle.

Crap. Minias? I don't have my scrying mirror. In a panic I sat up and out of Kisten's arms. My wineglass hit the coffee table just in time for a sneeze.

"Bless you," Kisten said softly, his hand curving about my waist to draw me back, but when I stiffened, he leaned forward. "You okay?" he added, real concern in his voice.

"I'll let you know in a minute." I took a careful breath, then another. My shoulders eased. Not wanting to worry Ivy or Jenks, I had shut myself in my room before sunset and set my password. Damn it, I should have scribed the glyph on a compact mirror.

Kisten was peering at me, and I said, "I'm fine," deciding it was only a sneeze. Exhaling slowly, I slumped into his warmth. His arm went behind my neck, and I pressed into him, glad he was here, and I was here, and neither of us had to be anywhere.

"You've been quiet tonight," Kisten said. "Are you sure you're okay?" His fingers began tracing a path along my neck, hunting for my demon scar, hidden under my perfect skin, and the light touch tickled.

He was asking after me, but I knew his thoughts were on Ivy's kiss. And with his fingers bringing my scar alight to mix the memory of it with the sensations he was pulling from me, I stifled a shudder of adrenaline. "I've a lot on my mind," I said, not liking how his touch and the memory of Ivy's kiss combined. I was confused enough already.

Turning in his arms to face him, I drew out of his reach, scrambling for something else to focus on. "I'm thinking I've gotten in over my head this time, is all. With the Weres?"

Kisten's blue eyes went soft. "After watching you curb two of Cincinnati's more influential packs, I would say that no, you aren't over your head." His smile widened, taking on a tinge of pride. "It was great watching you work, Rachel. You're good at this."

A puff of disbelief escaped me. It wasn't the Weres that had me worried, but how I'd gotten them to back off. Exasperated, I threw my head back against the top of the couch and closed my eyes. "Couldn't you see me shaking?"

My eyes flew open when Kisten's weight shifted, and I slid into him. Our hair mingled, and with his lips brushing my ear he said, "No." His breath came and went on my shoulder, and I didn't move but for sending my fingers to play with his torn earlobe. "I like a woman who can take care of herself," he added. "Watching you got me all hot."

I couldn't help my smile, but it faded distressingly fast. "Kisten?" I said, feeling vulnerable despite having his arms around me. "Really, I'm scared. But not about the Weres."

Kisten's searching fingers stopped. Removing his encircling arm, he leaned back and took my hands in his. "What is it?" he said, concern heavy in his gaze.

Embarrassed, I looked at our twined fingers and saw the differences. "I had to use the threat of a demon to get them to back off." I lifted my gaze, seeing the worry etching his brow. "It makes me feel like a demon practitioner," I finished. "I'm an idiot for using a demon as a bluff. Or a coward, maybe."

"Love..." Kisten drew my head to rest against his chest. "You aren't a coward or a practitioner. It's a bluff, and a damned good one."

"But what if it isn't a bluff?" I said into his shirt, thinking of all the people I had tagged for practicing black magic. They hadn't intended to become the fanatical, crazed people I threw in the back of a cab and hauled off to the I.S. "Some guy talked to me today," I said, fiddling with the top button of his shirt. "He invited me to join their demon cult."

"Mmmm." His voice rumbled through me. "And what did my badass runner tell him?"

"That he could take his club and shove it." Kisten said nothing, and I added, "What if they call my bluff? If they hurt Ivy or Jenks..."

"Shhhh," he hushed, his hand gentle against my hair. "No one is going to hurt Ivy; she's a Tamwood vampire and Piscary's scion. And why would anyone hurt Jenks? "

"Because they know he's important to me." I lifted my head, taking a breath of the fresher air. "I might do it," I said, frightened. "If anyone hurts Jenks or his family, I might call Minias and trade in my mark."

"Minias." Kisten's surprise showed. "I thought you were supposed to keep their names secret."

There had been more than a hint of jealousy in it, and I felt the beginnings of a smile. "That's his casual name. He has red goat-slitted eyes, a funny purple hat, and a crazy girlfriend."

"Mmmm." Kisten pulled me closer and settled his arms around me. "Maybe I should call this guy. Take him bowling so we can compare crazy-girlfriend notes."

"Stop it," I chided him, but he had managed to shift my mood. "You're jealous."

"Hell yes, I'm jealous." He was silent for a moment, then leaned forward. "I want to give you your present early," he said, reaching around the arm of the couch and to the floor.

Twisting, I put my back against the arm of the couch more firmly. Kisten set the obviously store-wrapped package in my hands, and I beamed. The ribbon about it was imprinted with VALERIA'S CRYPT, an exclusive supplier of clothing where the less fabric there was, the bigger the dent it would make in your checking account.

"What is it?" I asked, giving the shirt-size box a shake, and something thunked.

"Open it and see," he said, his eyes flicking from me to the box.

There was something odd in his behavior. Sort of an embarrassed eagerness. Not one to save paper, I ripped it off and tossed it, running a fingernail under the single piece of tape holding the box shut. Black tissue paper rustled, and I warmed when I saw what was under it.

"Oh, this is nice!" I said, lifting the teddy up. "Just in time for summer nights."

"It's edible," Kisten said, his eyes glinting.

"Whoa!" I exclaimed, hefting its lightweight and wondering how we might explore this new option. Remembering the thing thunking around, I set the teddy aside. "What else is inhere?" I questioned, rummaging. My fingers found a small, fuzzy box, and when I recognized its shape, my face lost all expression. It was a ring box. Oh, my God. "Kisten?" I breathed, eyes wide.

"Open it," he prompted, scooting closer.

Hands trembling, I turned it to find the opening. I didn't know what to do. I loved Kist, but I wasn't ready to be engaged. Hell, I was hardly ready to be anyone's girlfriend. What with two Were packs after my hide, demons showing up whenever, a master vampire itching to have at me. Not to mention a roommate who wanted to be more and me not knowing what to do about it. And how could I embark on a permanent relationship when I wouldn't let him bite me?

"But, Kisten..." I stammered, pulse racing.

"Just open it," he urged impatiently.

Holding my breath, I wedged it open. I blinked. It wasn't a ring. It was a pair of...

"Caps?" I questioned. Relief spilled through me. I looked up to see his fluster. They weren't his caps. No, these were sharp and pointy. And they're for me?

"If you don't like them, I'll take them back," he said, his usual confidence gone. "I thought it might be fun sometime. If you wanted to..."

My eyes closed. It wasn't a ring. It was a toy. I should have known after the edible teddy. "You bought me caps? "

"Well, yes. What did you think they were?"

I went to tell him, then closed my mouth. Flushing, I set the box aside and looked at the caps in their velvet cushion. Okay, it wasn't a ring, but where was this leading? "Kisten, I can't let you bite me." Closing the lid with a snap, I extended them to him. "I can't accept these."

But Kisten was smiling. "Rachel," he coaxed. "That's not why I bought them."

"Why, then?" I said, thinking he had put me in a very awkward position. I couldn't help but wonder if this had been a reaction to Ivy's kiss.

Placing the box back in my hands, he curved my fingers around it. "This isn't a backward way to wiggle my teeth into your neck. I'm not even looking for you to bite me, though that would be..." He took a breath. "Nice."

I could tell it was the truth, and my agitation eased.

Kisten dropped his gaze. "I wanted to see you with little pointy teeth," he said softly. "It's bedroom play. Like wearing a teddy. Sort of like... window dressing."

"You don't like my teeth?" I said, unhappy. Damn it, I wasn't a vampire, and he wanted more. This sucked royally.

But Kisten pulled me to him with a rueful chuckle. "Rachel, I adore your teeth," he said, his silk shirt against my cheek. "They nibble and pinch, and that you can't easily break my skin drives me fu - " He caught the next word sensitive to my disaproval. "Crazy," he finished. "But with you wearing those caps and me knowing you could break my skin?" A sigh lifted through him. "I don't care if you bite me or not. It's the thought that you could that's exciting."

His hand against my hair was soothing, and the last of my confusion vanished. This I understood. I found a thrill in the same way. Knowing that Kisten could bite me but held back because of respect, will, and perhaps Ivy was enough to get my rush going full tilt. That someday his will might not be strong enough or he might be willing to stand down Ivy was the attraction.

"You... ah, want me to try them on?" I said.

His eyes were dilating. "If you want to."

Smiling, I shifted my body and opened the box again. "You just slip them on?"

He nodded. "They're coated with some miracle polymer. Put them on and clench your teeth, and they'll mold right to them. They'll come off with a little prying."

Cool. His eyes were on them, and I set the box on the table, the unfamiliar smoothness of bone under my fingers as I picked them up. Feeling like I was putting on contacts, I fumbled until I figured out which one went where and slipped the molded bone over my teeth. They felt odd as I gritted my teeth. Lips parted, I ran my tongue across the inside.

Kisten inhaled, and my attention went to him. "Damn, woman." The rim of blue about his pupils shrank. My smile widened, and, seeing it, his eyes flashed to black.

"What do they look like?" I said, jumping up.

"Where are you going?" he said, his voice holding a sudden urgency.

"I want to see what they look like." Laughing, I pulled away from him and headed for the bathroom down the hall. "Are you sure I won't cut my lip?" I asked when I found it. The overhead light flicked on, yellow and dim from the low voltage.

"You can't," Kisten said, his voice raised against the distance. "They're designed not to," he added from right behind me, and I jumped, smacking my elbow into the wall in the tight confines.

"God! I hate it when you do that!" I exclaimed.

"I want to see, too," he said, an arm curving around my waist and his head tucking into the hollow between my neck and shoulder.

His eyes weren't on my reflection. Trying to ignore the tingles his lips were creating, I looked in the mirror, my tongue feeling the backs of the caps. They had a delicate curve, and the backs were angular. I smiled and turned my head to get a good look, seeing how they fit into the concave space between my lower teeth. The memory of wearing wax fangs for Halloween when I was eight flitted through me and was gone.

"Stop flashing your teeth," Kisten growled.

I turned to face him, his hands tracing a delicious path about my waist. "Why?" I bumped into him suggestively. "Does it bother you?"

"No." His voice was terse, and his grip on me grew tight.

There wasn't much room in here, but when I tried to push him out, he stood firm. He was warm and solid, and I stayed where I was, putting my arms about his neck and using him to keep my balance. "Do you like them?" I whispered, inches from his ear.

"Yes."

His lips traced a path across my collarbone, and I shivered, feeling the stirrings of desire.

"Me, too," I said. Pulse hammering, I aggressively nuzzled his head away so he couldn't reach my neck, pulling myself up to run my new-teeth teasingly across an old scar.

Kisten shuddered against me. "Oh, God. This is going to kill me," he whispered, his breath warm against my shoulder.

My blood pounded as I felt the new power I had. Kisten had gone still under my teeth, submissive without being docile. His hands drifted down to trace my curves, tugging my shirt from my jeans as they came up again.

Fingertips roughened from work traced lightly over me, rising until they cupped my breast. His other hand was at the small of my back, pressing me into him. Breath quickening, I gently bit an old scar at the base of his neck, sensations rising almost too fast to appreciate.

I turned my attention to a tiny scar I knew was sensitive. I breathed in his scent, a relaxed tension filling me. I hadn't come here looking for this, but why not? A small voice in my head wondered if I was letting Kisten sway my thoughts so easily on the teeth issue to reaffirm that he and I had something real already - and that accepting Ivy's offer, the surprise of it aside, would be cheating on him. If so, I would be the only one it would bother. Vampires considered multiple bed and blood partners the norm and monogamy the exception. And though I wasn't a vampire, to accept polyamorous relationships without a lot of soul-searching, all I could think right now was this felt damn good.

I grazed my teeth the length of his neck, feeling his muscles tighten. Kisten's hands trembled, and I wondered why I was trying to figure this out right now. His sigh flashed adrenaline through me, and it was all I could do not to bear down and dent his skin. A wicked feeling was beginning to grow, and I relished it. I could bite him. I could sink my teeth. And I knew exactly what it would do to him. I wasn't a vamp to set his scars alight, but he was, and one vampire was all it took.

His hands moved against me under my chemise, and in the gap between us I sent one of my hands downward, wanting to undo just one button. Just one.

Fingers awkward from the tight fabric, I managed it. Unable to resist, I fumbled for his zipper. Kisten shifted his weight, pressing me into the narrow slice of wall. His blue eyes were lost in black, and he pinned my hands above my head.

"You assume a lot, witch," he growled, and a spike of desire shot through me.

"You want me to stop?" I said, leaning forward and forcing a kiss.

Oh, God. His lips pushed aggressively against mine, tasting of wine. The thought of my teeth so close to his lips was thrilling. I knew Kisten could feel my need to find all of him building, and he played upon it. But as long as he had my hands pinned over my head, he couldn't stop me from tasting what I could reach.

A small shift forward and my lips found his neck. Kisten exhaled slowly. Enjoying being able to pull such a response from him, I explored, finding new reactions from old scars.

I should have done this before, I thought, hooking one foot behind his leg and pulling him closer. As soon as I got home, I would have to see what Cormel's guide to dating vampires said about this.

My arms dropped to encircle Kisten's neck lightly as he let go of my hands, and a sliver of thrill hit when he moved us into the unlit hallway. My back went up against the thin paneling with a thump, and he slid my camisole strap down my shoulder, bending to kiss the newly exposed, flawless skin that I knew was irresistible to vampires. The smoothness of his capped teeth across my unmarked skin sent a tremor through me. If his phone rang, I was going to kill somebody.

My eyes slipped shut in pure enjoyment, and I worked by feel to undo the buttons of his shirt. Jazz played, and the sound of a boat echoed over the flat water. I couldn't get the last of the buttons - Kisten kept nipping at my skin to send jolts that didn't have the chance to ebb before he added to them. Giving up, I gripped his shirt and pulled until the buttons snapped.

Kisten mmm'ed in annoyance. He shifted his weight, pinning me. Eyes flashing open, I reached for his belt. "Give me what I want," I whispered, feeling my new teeth. "And I won't have to get rough, vamp boy."

"That's my line," he said, his voice carrying a new edge to it.

The words were laced with blood hunger, and fear lanced through me, quickly stifled. Kisten's hands hesitated for an instant, to regain control, and then he continued. His restraint far stronger than mine, he took my shoulders, holding me unmoving as he found the base of my neck, wanting my blood but not taking it as he worked my old scar.

"Oh, God," I breathed. Unable to stop, I hoisted myself up, wrapping my legs around his waist and tightening my grip on his neck. He shifted again, adjusting for my weight. I could feel him heavy through his slacks, and my pulse quickened. Sensing it, his touch became aggressive, and silver threads of anticipation tightened to a hard ball in the pit of my being. This wasn't good. It was too much. I wasn't thinking anymore. It was too damn good.

I clutched at him, wanting the rush of feeling of his teeth sink into me. If he knew how badly, he might ask, and I wouldn't be able to say no. Ivy will kill him.

As if sensing my confusion, his lips became gentle, tracing a cool-warm sensation from the base of my neck to rise slowly to behind my ear, where he stayed, pulling with a gentle pressure - hinting at more. "Can you stay through the morning?" he asked.

"Mmmm," I managed, making sure my willingness was obvious by sending my nails to trace the back of his neck.

"Good." Carrying me, he headed down the hall to the night-darkened bedroom. The lights from Cincinnati were a soft glow reflecting off the water, and I spared a thought that I wasn't going to have the chance to wear that teddy. At least not tonight. His bed was under the bank of windows, but he set me atop the dresser, my legs still wrapped around him.

I was at an excellent height that lent itself to all sorts of possibilities -  and feeling surged when his hand sketched a heavy path to my breast, his thumb teasingly caressing. Kisten's lips left me, and with a deliberate slowness, he pulled back. The motions of his fingers against me stopped. Almost panting, I met his eyes.

They were black with a familiar, collected blood lust, glinting in the reflected light. Adrenaline zinged through me to mix anticipation and fear. Something was changing - I had become more with my sharp teeth. They weren't just bits of bone, they were a source of power, giving me control over him through the sensations I could invoke. And Kisten knew it; that had been his intention in giving them to me. With his teeth capped and mine sharp, he had elevated me above him. The thought was a definite turn-on for both of us.

Eyes never leaving mine, he took my hand that had slipped between his open shirt and his back. He breathed deeply of my wrist, lids closing as he scented my blood. "You smell like my two favorite people all mixed up."

His words sent a tremor rippling through me. Ivy's scent coated me, a soft memory of what they once had. The two of them had banded together in their vulnerable youth to survive, and I knew he missed their past closeness. He ached with his need to find it again. His pain pulled on me, making me want to give him what he needed, soothing both his body and mind. I wasn't coming in second behind Ivy but first; I could give him something she couldn't - everything he had found with Ivy, but ignorant of what Piscary had put them both through. I knew that was why Ivy had left him. She couldn't live with the reminder.

The draw to submit and give him everything strengthened, and when he felt me lean into him, his grip tightened. Body meeting his suggestively, I pulled his scent deep into me. It swirled through my body, the pheromones flipping switches until I ached with need. My hands slipped to his back, feeling the tension there and wanting so badly to get lost in him. I exhaled, my breath shaking. "Do me here," I whispered.

Tilting his head, Kisten held my shoulders and kissed my lower neck, gently, hesitantly, as if he had never touched me before. I lost my breath at the rush of feeling, the burning tracings of desire settling deep and low. I exhaled into it, calling it to me. The pause to gather our breath was over. Oh, God. I have to do something.

Fingers fumbling, I reached for his slacks. The top button was undone, and I unzipped them, pushing them down enough to give him freedom. His hands were at my lower back, and I clasped my arms around his neck, lowering myself off the dresser so he could pull my jeans down. My feet touched the floor long enough to shake off first one pant leg, then the other.

Impatient, I tightened my grip around his neck, lifting myself back up against him until I was on the dresser again. His hands ran over my curves to my waist, then higher. A groan of anticipation slipped from me when he bowed his head. Massaging my breast with one hand and sending his lips over the other, he tugged and teased - the hint of teeth telling me what he could do if I let him, almost promising.

If he hadn't had his caps, he would have bitten me. Adrenaline flashed deep, and I sent my hands down to find his taut, smooth skin. His motion against me grew rougher, and I responded. With a sharp tug, he leaned to find the base of my neck with his lips, his repressed need making him savage.

Feeling poured from my scar. I would have collapsed if he hadn't held me. My heart pounded as he eased up, and I could breathe again. Beneath my moving fingers, he was smooth and warm, a shocking contrast to his rough touch on my neck. His breathing deepened, and his teeth teased the skin about my scar, leaving me aching for him to find me fully. I squeezed my eyes shut, sensing the hint of coming ecstasy. I gasped, startled when he gave up his teasing and bit me without breaking the skin, hard and strong. Only his capped teeth stopped him.

Tension spiked through me, and I moaned. It hit Kisten like fear.

His fingers gripping my shoulders tightened. With a vamp quickness, he jerked me closer. I gasped again. Then, with my arms again about his neck, I shifted my body to make it easier for him, leaving the dresser entirely. He slid into me with an exquisite slowness that replaced reason with desperate need. I took a faltering breath. Lips parting, I brought the scent of him deep into me as he filled my mind and body both.

With him supporting my weight, we moved together. My arms were about his neck to keep myself to him, and I realized that apart from the obvious, I couldn't touch him with anything but my lips. The self-imposed restraint hit me, and with a frustrated desperation I went for his neck, tracing old scars and feeling a want grow headier with each shift of weight.

Kisten's breathing was fast, and he held me to him with a fervent need, moving toward climax. His mouth was on me, pulling. The thought of Ivy sinking her teeth flashed through me. Fear of the unknown dove to my groin, and Kisten moaned, sensing it.

I wanted Ivy to bite me, I wanted that feeling of utter bliss mixing with knowing the act was an affirmation of her being worth sacrificing for, all layered with the heady emotion of risk I craved. Even so, I trusted her to not bind me to her. But Kisten... Deep in my heart, he was still an unknown, the lure of the thrill of adrenaline driving me to risk everything. Ivy's protection was a crutch that allowed me to make myself vulnerable without risking his binding me to him. He couldn't bite me. But maybe... maybe I could bite him?

Adrenaline flared at the thought, and my hands upon him. clenched even as I forced his lips to find mine. Oh, God, I want to bite him, I realized. I didn't want to bleed him or taste his blood. But I could fill him with that mind-shocking wave of ecstasy that waited just below his skin. The feeling of power over him was a rush almost as strong as fear. And I wasn't used to telling myself no.

"Kisten..." I panted as I pulled away. "Do you promise not to bite me if I bite you?"

His hands supporting me were shaking. "I promise," he whispered. "You've asked, and I've said yes. Oh, God, Rachel. You might... you might pick up an echo of my hunger. But it's not yours. Don't be afraid."

A surge of sensation struck through both of us. I felt the strength and satisfaction of power. Fear for tomorrow flashed through me and was gone. My hands went around the back of his neck, and I moved against him, feeling a new stirring of domination and desire.

My pulse thrummed. The scent of leather and wine drew on memories, pulling me to him. His lips parted, and with his drive singing in me to bring every cell awake, I silenced the part of me that rebelled against tasting another's blood and met his lips with my own.

Kisten exhaled in pained exhilaration. I eased into the kiss, tentatively tracing my tongue against his teeth as we moved together, doubly joined. My heart pounded, and I didn't care what might happen anymore. I couldn't move my hands to touch him or I'd fall, and I wanted to stay where I was, gripping him with my legs, feeling him inside me. Wild with need, our mouths moved together, and in an instant of abandonment, I found his lip. It didn't take much.

Blood flowed. My body shook in a spasm. Oh, God. It was all. It was everything.

Scintillating and alive, I tasted vampire blood. It struck through me, and I clutched at Kisten, unable to breathe, unable to pull away in sheer ecstasy. In a flash, hunger poured into me, and I knew what Ivy and Kisten fought to contain every day, and how good it felt to sate it. It was Kisten's hunger echoing in me, without fear.

This is not wrong, I thought as Kisten's hands clutched at me. The hunger demanded more, and I deepened the kiss we shared. There was only this. This was all. It was the spark of existence, pooled and collected, distilled to a feeling. And with Kisten's hunger echoing through me, I pulled his blood from him, taking it as my own. Vampire blood wouldn't make me stronger, or faster, or live forever. But it was a rush. A high like no other. And I could feel his aura mixing with mine, sharing the same space as I took him into me.

A surge of white-hot need ached, spinning from his blood. He moaned, and as I drew his blood into me again, I tightened my grip on him and wouldn't let go. I could feel us reaching for climax. It was there, dancing just out of my reach.

His arms shook. I breathed heavily, struggling for air. A savage sound came from him, and he clutched me close. His blood was liquid thought, racing to set me alight. I could feel him inside me, and I pressed into him, desperate.

And then we found it.

Eyes clamped shut, I flung my head back. I could do nothing as a wash of sensation spilled into me, into us. Every cell sang with the release, leaving a high so deep there was no thought but for its continued existence.

Kisten's grip shook, and he staggered. Unaware of anything, we hung, poised in the rapture that suffused us. "My God," he groaned, both satisfied and desperate as he reached out for the feeling. And with his words it slipped away. It was gone.

I took a gasping breath, slumping. My muscles wouldn't hold me, and I started to fall.

"Oh, God," he said again, this time in worry as he caught me and brought me to the bed. I felt myself ease down, and he peered close. "Rachel..." he said, his hands holding my head.

"I'm okay," I panted, trembling as I felt for the bed and put out an arm to keep myself upright. I shuddered, cold as my body tried to recover, and Kisten pulled me to him. Vampire blood and sex. Holy crap, they weren't kidding. It was good enough to kill a person.

Shifting himself back to the headboard, we found an almost-upright stance with his arms warm around me. "Are you okay?" he asked.

"Fine." I couldn't stand, but I was fine. I was better than fine. I had been afraid of this?

My hand was on his chest where his shirt hung open. Pulse slowing, I shifted my fingers across his skin, feeling the smoothness. I looked for my pants, finding them puddled before the dresser. Kisten was still in his. Mostly. Contentment rose high in me, and I smiled, worn out and exhausted. I could hear his heartbeat, and I listened to it as it slowed. "Kisten?"

"Mmmm-hmm? "

The sound rumbled up through his chest and into me. I could hear the peace in it, and I snuggled closer. Fingers fumbling, Kisten pulled the lightweight coverlet over us.

"That was incredible," I said, shivering at the comforter's smooth silk backing. "How do you... how do you go to work and live a normal life knowing that's there to find?"

Kisten's arms about me tightened. His one hand rose to find mine, stilling my motion against his skin. "You just do," he said softly. "And you're a good bite. Innocent and eager."

"Stop..." I moaned. "You make me sound like a... a..." I didn't know what to call myself, and "slut" sounded so nasty.

"Blood slut?"

"Shut up!" I exclaimed, and he grunted as my elbow jabbed him when I moved.

"Be still," he said, wrapping his arms around me, keeping me where I was against him. "You're not."

Forgiving him, I slumped back into his warmth. His hand moved against my hair, gentling me, and I watched the lights from the city reflected onto the low ceiling as a deep lassitude drifted into me. I ran my tongue across the insides of my caps to find the taste of him all the way to the back of my throat, and I couldn't concentrate well enough to decide if I liked finding it there or not. My pulse was slowing, taking my thoughts with it. I knew I should be worried about Ivy, but all I could manage was a sleepy, "Ivy..."

"Sh-h-h-h," he whispered, his hand ever moving, soothing me. "It's okay. I'll make sure she understands."

"I'm not leaving you, Kisten," I said, but it sounded like I was trying to convince myself.

"I know."

And in his silence that followed, I heard the echoes of the women before me who had said the same thing. "It wasn't a mistake," I whispered, eyes closing. I knew I was blood-sugared, his pheromones probably hitting me especially hard from my having taken his blood. "I didn't make a mistake."

His hand moving atop my head never slowed, never sped up. "Not a mistake," he agreed.

Reassured, I lay against him and inhaled his scent to find comfort. I wasn't going to abandon that feeling, no matter what. "So what do we do now?" I breathed as I started to fall into sleep.

"Whatever the hell we want," he answered. "Sh-h-h-h, go to sleep."

The last of my tension eased, and I wondered if I should take my caps off. "Anything?" I whispered, surprised at how natural they felt. I'd forgotten I had them on.

"Yeah, anything," he said. "Go to sleep. You haven't had a good sleep in days."

Safe in Kisten's arms, I closed my eyes, feeling more secure than I had since my dad had died. Only now did I feel the gentle movement of the boat, rocking me into oblivion. I was sated in mind and body and soul. Kisten's arm was over me. It was like the warmest comforter on the coldest morning. I exhaled, finding a peace I hadn't known I'd been missing.

And as I hovered in a curious mix of waking and sleep, I heard Kisten sigh, his fingers still gentling the hair about my forehead. "Don't leave us, Rachel," he whispered, clearly not aware I was still awake. "I don't think Ivy or I could survive it."