Ami’s heart raced beneath his ear. Her breath emerged in short pants, tickling his hair.

Wrapping his arms around her, Marcus rolled to his side and held her close, bodies still joined. His heart pounded as swiftly as hers did as she snuggled even closer.

No one … no other woman had ever made him feel this way.

Pressing a kiss to the top of Ami’s head, he settled his cheek against her hair and closed his eyes.

Marcus sighed as consciousness gradually overcame sleep. Memories of the hours he had spent exploring every millimeter of Ami’s body sent warmth spiraling through him. Smiling, he rolled to his side and reached for her.

His eyes sprang open. Her side of the bed was empty, cold.

Her voice wafted to him from upstairs.

Disappointed, he tossed back the covers and, with a great deal of grumbling, donned his sweatpants and strode from the room. He had awoken twice during the day. The first time, he had been sprawled on his stomach with Ami pressed against his side, her head on his shoulder, one slender arm looped across his back, a soft thigh draped across his so that her knee brushed his ass. The second time, he had awoken spooned around her, marveling at how small and delicate she felt in his arms. Both times, he had been unable to resist making love to her.

As he climbed the stairs to the ground floor, he realized Ami was singing, not talking on the phone as he had at first assumed. She must have delved into the oldies in his collection today because she sang “Bei Mir Bist Du Shoen” as brightly as an Andrews sister.

He stepped into the hallway, followed her pretty voice to the study. Just before he reached the doorway, her voice changed in that fascinating way of hers as she moved on to a new song.

Pure pleasure tumbled through him, halting his footsteps as she sang “At Last” in tones low and sultry. Had he not known better, he would’ve thought Etta James herself were in the next room singing. Closing his eyes in ecstasy, Marcus leaned back against the wall.

He had loved music ever since Bethany had showed up in the Middle Ages and given him an iPod with a solar recharger when he was a teenager.

“At Last” concluded and “Sweet Lorraine” began, followed by “For Sentimental Reasons.”

A slow smile dawned.

She was singing love songs.

Joy swelled within him. Fear attempted to creep in and smother it, but he refused to let it.

Ami couldn’t be transformed without turning vampire. He had known that from the beginning, known that he would lose her eventually either to injury or age. But he renounced those worries for the time being. Right now, he just wanted to revel in the feelings she inspired. The happiness. What he could no longer deny was burgeoning love. For the first time in centuries, he would live in the now instead of for the future.

When she started belting out “Spiders and Snakes,” he straightened, perplexed, and stepped into the doorway.

Ami stood across the room in sweats and a T-shirt, smiling as though she had heard him coming despite the earphones covering her ears.

Marcus crossed his arms and leaned against the door frame as she removed them. “The last song seems an odd choice. Are you trying to tell me something?”

She shook her head. “I was tired of waiting for you to come in.”

Circling the desk, she skipped forward and leapt at him.

Marcus caught her with a laugh and held her tight as she wound her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist. “I missed you when I woke up,” he murmured against her lips.

She kissed him. “I hated to leave you, but the phone rang.”

He hadn’t even heard it. Immortals, because of their acute senses, were generally light sleepers unless they sported wounds that needed more than blood to heal. Then they slept heavily … as he must have to miss hearing the phone.

She drew his lower lip between her teeth. “Let’s take the night off and spend it in bed.”

A spark of amber light reflected in her green eyes as his own flared bright with desire. “We can’t. We have to meet Roy.”

“We can meet Roy another day.”

He slid his hands down to her ass and wished that were true. “I have no way of contacting him to reschedule our rendezvous.”

She sighed.

Marcus bit back a groan when she unwound her legs and slid down his body until her feet touched the floor, leaving him hard and aching.

“Seth called a meeting at David’s anyway. We’re supposed to be there at seven.” Without looking at him, she turned and headed back to the desk. “Chris had your Hayabusa picked up and delivered. The Prius has been repaired and returned, too.”

Marcus studied her as he struggled to rein in his lust. “Something is troubling you.”

She paused, then turned and leaned back against the desk, face somber. “I have a bad feeling about our meeting with Roy tonight.”

He approached her slowly. “Trepidation is normal, considering. I think we’re all a little uneasy about it, wondering if it’s a trap or if he’s sincere as Cliff, Joe, and Vincent were. I know there are those at the network who think we care little about the lives we take to protect humans and gifted ones. But the truth is, we would all rather offer vampires refuge and hope for a cure than remove their heads.”

“It’s unfair of them to judge you,” she whispered, her gaze full of empathy.

“And yet some do.” He sighed. “Roland and I have lived hundreds of years. Nearly a millennium in Roland’s case. Neither of us has ever been sought out by a vampire driven by anything other than madness or malice. Yet, here we are, willing to risk our own existences on the off chance that a vampire might truly desire our aid.” He offered her a wry smile. “Even Roland—as fractious as he can be—still hopes for the best. He may expect the worst, but he wishes for the best.”

Her answering smile appeared forced.

“Is it more than that?” he prodded. “Is it … ?” He clamped his lips together for a moment. “Do you regret what we shared this morning?”

Her brow furrowed. “No. Why? Do you?”

Relief rushed through him. “Not one second. I’m just trying to discern the reason for your disquiet.”

She gripped the edges of the desk on either side of her hips until her knuckles turned white. “You know how I said I had a feeling something bad was going to happen tonight?”

“Yes.”

“I had the same feeling last night. And the night thirty-four vampires attacked you.”

She seemed to expect some sort of condemnation or mockery.

Instead, Marcus felt a tremendous swell of elation. “By feeling, do you mean premonition?”

Biting her lip, she nodded.

“Ami,” he moved closer, “are you sure you aren’t a gifted one?” There had never been a gifted one with her hair and eye coloring; but humans didn’t possess psychic gifts. Only gifted ones, born with their unique DNA, did. If Ami was a gifted one and was amenable, she could be transformed.

She nodded. “I’m sure.”

“Have you been tested?” he pressed. The network labs could identify gifted ones with DNA tests.

“No, but Seth will confirm it if you need him to.”

And, just that quickly, his spirits plummeted. Marcus stood, mute, staring at her as crushing disappointment filled him.

Ami chewed her lower lip. “I told you before that I wasn’t a gifted one.”

She had. And he had thought he had accepted it until that one, brief hope had struck like lightning.

He forced a smile and struggled to keep the despair he felt from his voice. “I know.” He touched her shoulder, drew her into a hug. “Come here. Don’t look so worried, love.”

She buried her face in his chest and wrapped her arms around him.

“Everything will be fine tonight. We’ll have Roland with us. And I’ll call Richart just before we arrive at the rendezvous point and leave my cell on speakerphone so I won’t even have to dial him if we need him to teleport in reinforcements.”

Though she nodded, Ami said nothing.

Chapter 11

As Ami and Marcus approached the front door of David’s sprawling home, her emotions vacillated between eagerness and anxiety.

A cacophony of voices—mostly male—spilled forth from inside and she cursed the fear that rose within her despite all attempts to quash it. No one in that house posed a threat to her. Most (if not all) would risk their lives to protect her. Even those who had never met her. Yet her hands shook. Her throat thickened. Her feet constantly threatened to turn and run in the opposite direction.

The dread she felt whenever she considered the impending meeting with Roy didn’t help. Minor mental pep talks wouldn’t suppress that either. With Roland by their sides and the French immortals on standby, what could they possibly come up against that they couldn’t conquer?

Another arrow of foreboding pierced her as soon as the thought formed.

A large, warm hand slipped into hers and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

Ami glanced up as Marcus twined his fingers through hers.

Their talk of premonitions earlier had thrown him. He had made a valiant effort not to show it, but she hadn’t missed it. And if something as simple as a little clairvoyance rattled him, how would he react to the source of that clairvoyance and her many other oddities?

“Don’t forget,” he murmured. “Seth, David, and Darnell are in there somewhere, too.”

At last, she found a smile. Anticipation dampened everything else. She hadn’t seen the three members of her surrogate family in a couple of weeks and had missed them.

Marcus punched a code into the keypad by the door, grasped the knob, gave it a twist, and pushed the door inward. Ami clung to Marcus’s hand as they stepped inside.

The house had an open floor plan that resembled Marcus’s on a larger scale. On her left, Chris Reordon and two other humans she assumed worked at the network slowly circumnavigated the long, stately dining room table, which she was surprised hadn’t buckled under the weight of the heaping mounds of food placed upon it. On her right, Étienne, Richart, and Lisette lounged on one of the three long sofas in the adjoining living room.