Ye can cut the cake now.

All ten women made a grab for the cake slicer, but when one claimed it, the others grabbed plastic knives, and they all chopped away at the cake, hacking it into pieces.

He grimaced. What a bloody mess. Go on as ye normally would.

They stopped and looked aghast at the slaughtered cake.

He slipped inside, and they gave him a suspicious look. "Excuse me. Just passing through." He hurried through the cafeteria doors.

Halfway down the hall, he wondered how powerful his mind control was. How far could it reach?

Crow like a rooster.

His superior hearing caught the sound of crowing all over the facility.

Damn. The crowing continued. Stop it! Silence.

He headed for the lab. Maybe Abby could give him an antidote.

He strode into the room. Leah was there, seated next to Abby and Laszlo. His heart squeezed at the sight of her, and he wondered once again if she had read his note.

"Yes," she replied, then winced.

She had. His prosthetic hand clenched. Relax, he ordered it, and it opened. Then he noticed that Leah and Abby had sprawled in their chairs. They had relaxed!

With a small shock, he realized he could control Leah if he wanted to. He could order her to fling herself into his arms and kiss him.

When she jumped to her feet, he forced those thoughts to a screeching halt. Doona move. "Abby, there's something wrong."

"Tell me about it." Laszlo twisted a button. "Just a few seconds ago, they were both crowing like roosters. The whole building seemed to be crowing."

"That was my fault." Dougal looked at Abby. "Can I see you in private?"

She and Leah both walked toward the door.

"Nay, no' you." He looked at Leah, but both women stopped. They were obeying his speech, too? He supposed that made sense, since he had to think to talk.

"You. Abby." He pointed at her. "I need to talk to you in yer office." She headed out the door.

"And you." He pointed at Leah. My God, ye're beautiful. I could kiss you all -

Her eyes widened.

He wiped those thoughts clean. "Take a seat."

She sat on the floor.

"Nay! In yer chair. Ye can work now. If ye like."

She moved to her chair and went back to work.

Laszlo frowned. "How are you controlling them? And why?"

Dougal grimaced. " 'Tis a long story. I'll take care of it." He hurried to Abby's office and found her sitting at her desk, frowning at the vial of green liquid.

She looked up. "I guess we discovered one of the side effects."

He nodded. "It dinna affect Laszlo?"

"No." She gave him an annoyed look. "It was only the mortals who were crowing. I'll ask Gregori to do damage control and erase the memories of those who were affected."

"Can ye stop what's happening to me?"

She sighed. "There's no antidote. But I gave you a small amount. It should wear off in a few hours. Most of the mortal employees will be leaving soon, so . . ."

"But you and Leah will still be here."

Abby nodded. "It might be better for you to keep some distance from us. And don't think about us. Occupy your mind with something else for a few hours."

He groaned. Telling him not to think about Leah was a sure way to make him think of her.

"Have you tried using your prosthesis?" Abby asked. "Maybe you could type a report or something. It would occupy your mind, and we could see if you have better control."

"I'll think of something." He left her office, trying not to think of Leah. What else could occupy his mind? And test his manual dexterity?

His pipes. He'd left his Uilleann pipes at the townhouse. In a matter of seconds, he had teleported to the basement, collected the pipes, and teleported back to the grounds at Romatech.

Doona think about Leah. He strode into the woods to where a bench was located underneath a large oak tree. There he sat and situated the bag beneath his elbow. By moving his arm, he would pump air into the bag. He'd start off with something slow so he'd have a better chance at moving his prosthetic fingers in time with the music.

Doona think about Leah.

The pipes filled the air, their wailing cry echoing through the woods. God, how he had missed that sound. And such a sad song. That was the problem with slow music. It was so forlorn that it could make your heart break with the sadness of it.

Leah, I've waited so long for you.

Chapter Twelve

Doona think about Leah.

Leah blinked as she peered into a microscope. That was Dougal's voice reverberating in her head. There was no mistaking the deep, musical lilt or the adorable way he pronounced aboot.

Abby had returned to the lab a few minutes earlier and explained the weird side effects Dougal was experiencing from a drug she'd given him. His boosted mind control was affecting all the mortals in the building.

Leah had only a vague memory of the crowing incident. Abby assured her that Gregori would make sure none of the other mortals remembered it. Luckily, Leah would be exempt from any mind tampering. She needed to remember the progress she'd made at work. And she wanted to remember Dougal's thoughts. My God, ye're beautiful. I could kiss you all -

He'd abruptly stopped that trail of thought, which was a shame, since now she was left wondering where he would kiss her. All over her face? Her body? Her skin tingled, and a warm, fuzzy feeling flooded her from head to toe.

Doona think about Leah. His voice echoed once again in her mind, and she found herself smiling. The poor guy was trying so hard but failing miserably. She was, too. She could barely concentrate on her work.

Leah, I've waited so long for you.

His voice was laced with pain, she could feel it. How long had he waited? A lifetime? Three lifetimes? Had he never loved before? Had he truly waited just for her? How badly had she hurt his feelings the night before? A yearning built inside her, a need to see him, comfort him, touch him. If she stayed here any longer, she would suffocate.

She pushed back her chair and stood. "I need a break."

"You want to grab something to eat?" Abby gave her a sheepish look. "I seem to be hungry all the time."

"I would be happy to join you," Laszlo said with a hopeful expression.

"Maybe later," Leah answered. "I just need some fresh air. To clear my mind."

Abby nodded. "The gazebo's nice. There's an exit close by."

"Okay." Her sweater in hand, Leah left the lab and spotted a red exit sign down the hall. It was above a glass door opening onto the patio.

She stepped outside and felt immediately refreshed by the cool, crisp air. On the other side of the patio, she could see the cafeteria and a party going on inside. A woman was opening presents, while others chatted and laughed.

A wailing sound echoed in the distance, and she turned her head toward it. It sounded familiar somehow, like a distant memory. A chill skittered down her back, and she pulled on her thick cardigan sweater.

She crossed the basketball court, headed for the gazebo. The sound grew louder, more confident.

More beautiful. She halted with a gasp. It was pipe music. Just like Grandpa had played that magical summer. She'd thought the pipes were the most beautiful sound in the world.

She closed her eyes to listen, and the plaintive melody enveloped her, seeped into her skin, and settled in her heart. So much emotion. She didn't know how the pipes could sound like they were crying, but they did.

Tears filled her eyes as flashes of memory returned from fourteen years ago. The green fields of Ireland. Her grandfather's lilting voice and warm hug. She'd never had to earn his hugs with straight As. He had loved her for simply being herself. He would have loved this music.

Was it Dougal? It had to be him. How could she resist such a man? His handsome face touched her heart, and his music lured her soul. As she followed the sound of the pipes, her skin pebbled with goosebumps. Was she following her destiny?

Leah, I've waited so long for you.

His voice whispered in her mind. He was still thinking about her, still wanting her. She passed the gazebo and headed for the woods. A white shirt came into view.

It was him. She didn't want to disturb his playing, so she remained halfway hidden behind a tree. He was seated on a bench, his head bowed and forehead furrowed as he concentrated on his hands. His left hand moved easily and gracefully, but the fingers of his prosthetic hand were jerky and slow.

Leah's heart ached for him. How it must hurt him to struggle with his music. He ended the plaintive melody and sighed.

"Enough of sadness," he whispered. "I need joy in my life." I need Leah.

Her breath caught. Should she tell him she was here? Did she dare? In a split second, she knew that if she approached him now, her life would be forever changed. She would fall for a vampire, and he would never let her go.

Her feet froze, unable to move.

He launched into a happy jig, but after a few bars, his prosthetic hand couldn't keep up. She grimaced as the music soured and declined into a jarring noise.

"Dammit!" He tossed the pipes onto the ground, and they let out a dying wail as leftover air fizzled from the bag. "Damn it to hell." He strode toward the building, his kilt swishing about his knees.

She stood still, watching him go, then her gaze shifted back to the pipes where they rested on a bed of dead leaves. A breeze stirred up more leaves, and they settled on the bag. In another hour, they might be completely covered with dead leaves. Buried.

A surge of anger shot through her. How dare he give up! He played from his soul. Without music, how would his soul survive?

She wouldn't let him quit. She strode toward the pipes and gathered them up in her arms. Her grip caused the remaining air in the bag to escape, and the pipes protested with a forlorn wail.

"What are ye doing?" he asked softly.

She whirled around. "I-I didn't think these should be left outside."

His brow furrowed with a deep scowl. "How long have ye been out here?"

"Long enough." She lifted her chin. "You came back awfully fast."

"I can move verra quickly." His mouth thinned. "At least my feet can."

"I know you were having trouble with the jig, but you shouldn't let that stop you from playing. The slow music was absolutely - "

"Sad," he interrupted her, his eyes flashing.

"I was going to say beautiful."

"Nay. It was melancholy. And pathetic. Should I spend the rest of my miserably long life with only sad music to fill my soul?"

"Better to have a sad soul than an empty one." She held the pipes out to him. "And you have to believe that it will get better. You can't give up on yourself."

"Are ye concerned for my soul then?" He snatched the pipes from her hands. "Do ye believe a vampire even has a soul?"

She winced. Apparently, she had hurt his feelings the night before. Somehow, in just a few days, he had ceased to be a monster, an Undead creature, and he'd become a tortured soul who intrigued her. She was hopelessly drawn to him and painfully aware of a yearning she didn't dare act upon.

"I'll take that as a no." He lifted the pipes. "What were ye planning to do with these?"

"I was going to return them to you. With a note of encouragement."

"Ye were going to bring them to my office?" When she didn't answer, his eyes narrowed. "Ye were going to visit me again in the basement?"

She nodded. "Yes."

He dropped the pipes on the bench. "Why do ye seek me out when I'm in my death-sleep? I realize I'm no' a verra good conversationalist, but I can manage a wee bit better when I'm no' dead."

She swallowed hard. "I feel safer when you're asleep - "

"Dead," he corrected her with a wry look. "Am I so frightening when I'm awake?"

Yes. She crossed her arms. "Maybe."

"I would never hurt you."

Her eyes burned. He could break her heart. Already it was aching.

"How can I prove to you that I'm no' a soulless monster?"

"I know you have a soul. You played from your soul." She blinked away tears. "And it was beautiful."

He stepped toward her. "Then can ye stop seeing me as a vampire?"

Her heart pounded. She was teetering on a precipice, so close to falling, and God help her, she wanted to fall.

"Can ye see me as a man? I canna share a meal with you, nor a day in the sun. I canna sleep like a man. But I can feel. I can touch." With his left hand, he touched her face so gently that it squeezed her heart, and a tear escaped.

He caught the tear with his thumb. "I can love like a man." He leaned closer. "And I can kiss."

She drew in a shuddering breath just before his lips pressed gently against hers. Soft, but firm.

He pulled back and gave her a questioning look as if asking permission to continue. More tears threatened to fall. She didn't know what to say. She only knew she wanted more.

His hand moved to cup the back of her neck while his other hand, the prosthetic one, pressed against the small of her back, pulling her against his chest. She rested her hands on his shirt, feeling the hard rock of his chest beneath the soft white cotton.

"Leah," he whispered, and she lifted her eyes to meet his.

Desire flared hot in his emerald eyes, melting the last of her resistance. "Yes," she whispered back.

He kissed her again. A long, sensual kiss, his lips moving, nibbling, and tasting.

Warmth drizzled down her body, settling with a more heated sizzle between her legs. She moaned, and he deepened the kiss, invading her mouth with his tongue.