Praise for the
Gods of Midnight Novels

Red Kiss

“This is a sensual, action-packed, steaming-hot romance! Filled with demons, Gods, immortal warriors, and unique world building, Red Kiss will leave you begging for more.”

—Armchair Interviews

“Ms. Knight did a wonderful job blending the old-world sensibilities with the modern age.”

—Eye on Romance

“Red Kiss breathes life into some of history’s most amazing men, gives them new purpose, and spins a captivating web of honor, deceit, and the overwhelming power of love.”

—Darque Reviews

“A sensational story that packs a ton of heat, action, and fantasy into its pages, Red Kiss is an enthralling read you just can’t miss!”

—Romance Reviews Today

“A must read for any romantic at heart.”

—TwoLips Reviews

“The women are strong and the men are hot! Deidre Knight really knows how to steam up a cold night.”

—Fallen Angel Reviews

“A terrific tale that once again will have readers believing in the Knight world, where Gods and immortals intervene in the lives of expendable humans.”

—Midwest Book Review

“Just as action-packed and passion-filled as the first one. Definitely a must read!”

—Fresh Fiction

“Deidre Knight has outdone herself with Red Kiss, a novel that will rest on our keeper shelf.”

—Single Titles (5 stars)

“Knight’s expertise at combining sensuality and pulse-pounding action is on full display. Make room for another ‘Knight’ on your keeper shelf.”

—Romantic Times (4 stars)

Red Fire

“Knight expertly blends scorching passion, gritty danger, and a wildly creative plot in Red Fire, the first in an edgy new paranormal series.”

—Chicago Tribune

“Exciting…a fantastic series.”

—Romance Junkies

“An incredible tale populated by only the most incredible characters…fast-paced, emotional, riveting…. I promise you’ll love it!”

—Romance Reviews Today

“What an exciting beginning to this new Gods of Midnight series! Very well-done by the talented Deidre Knight. I loved it!”

—Fresh Fiction

“Knight provides an intriguing new twist to both Greek mythology and legendary Spartan warriors with this searing new series.”

—Romantic Times

“Scorching-hot with a pace that never lets up.”

—New York Times bestselling author Christina Dodd

“White-hot immortal warriors, heart-pounding romance, and thrilling action. It doesn’t get any better than this!”

—New York Times bestselling suthor Gena Showalter

“Deidre Knight has created a fascinating world of gods, demons, and immortal warriors. I can’t wait for more!”

—New York Times bestselling suthor Angela Knight

“Hot Gates, hot men, myth, and magic in modern day…. Sign me up for more Gods of Midnight!”

—Jessica Andersen

“A fantastic and riveting new voice in paranormal fiction.”

—New York Times bestselling author Karen Marie Moning

Also by Deidre Knight

Gods of Midnight

Red Demon

Red Fire

Red Kiss

The Midnight Warriors

Parallel Attraction

Parallel Heat

Parallel Seduction

Parallel Desire

RED BLOODED

A GODS OF MIDNIGHT NOVELLA

Deidre Knight

SIGNET ECLIPSE

Published by New American Library, a division of
Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street,
New York, New York 10014, USA

Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario M4P 2Y3, Canada (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.)

Penguin Books Ltd., 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

Penguin Ireland, 25 St. Stephen’s Green, Dublin 2, Ireland (a division of Penguin Books Ltd.)

Penguin Group (Australia), 250 Camberwell Road, Camberwell, Victoria 3124, Australia (a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty. Ltd.)

Penguin Books India Pvt. Ltd., 11 Community Centre, Panchsheel Park, New Delhi - 110 017, India

Penguin Group (NZ), 67 Apollo Drive, Rosedale, North Shore 0632, New Zealand (a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd.)

Penguin Books (South Africa) (Pty.) Ltd., 24 Sturdee Avenue, Rosebank, Johannesburg 2196, South Africa

Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

First published by Signet Eclipse, an imprint of New American Library, a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

Copyright © Deidre Knight, 2010

All rights reserved

SIGNET ECLIPSE and logo are trademarks of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

PUBLISHER’S NOTE

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party Web sites or their content.

The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

ISBN: 9781101428979

This novella is dedicated to all those who serve or have served in uniform. For your bravery, sacrifice, and willingness, we remain forever grateful.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Thanks to Eliza Gayle and Mike Cummings for helping with Marine Corps details. Thanks for responding to my Twitter call for help! Also, big thanks to my friend Seth Wilson for all the guide dog input. Also, thanks to Dr. Ken Tennant for the information about traumatic brain injury and blindness.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

EPILOGUE

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

CHAPTER ONE

The room smelled musty, like old books and cobwebs, dank like his parents’ basement back in Nashville. Dillon’s nose twitched from the dust, burned with the odor of forgotten things. His buddy Mason had described this cellar as the “room of secrets,” the moldering place where Mason and his demon-hunting clan kept their vast library of supernatural lore.

Unbeknownst to Dillon until only a few hours ago, Mason wasn’t just a crack shot with an M-16, but a fifth generation demon hunter, as well. And since Mason Angel was one of the most levelheaded dudes Dillon had ever known, inside the USMC or out, his revelations about the family biz meant just one thing. Evil was real and alive, and it hunted mankind from the squalid back alleys of Basrah to the downtown streets of good ole Savannah, Georgia, USA. In turn, Mace and his squad fought back, with this cellar serving as the main bunker for those organized campaigns.

It was hard to get a bead on the area’s actual size, but Dillon figured on a low ceiling because of the way their voices reverberated. Which marked three of them in the room—Mason and his older brother, Jamie, and then Dillon himself. They’d left a few others from Mason’s wrecking crew upstairs. Or at least Dillon was pretty sure they’d stayed up there. He battled away the sudden urge to bark, “Sound off!” just to be sure.

Running his fingertips over the big bookshelf behind him, Dillon felt rows upon rows of cracked leather volumes, some with embossed lettering and others with bindings that had obviously been worn away by long-term use. Dust slipped beneath his fingertips, making his nose twitch even more. Leaning lightly against the edge of the shelf and assured that he wasn’t going to trip or stumble over anything, Dillon folded his cane neatly in his palm. Once a Marine, always a Marine, and he’d be damned if Mason Angel, his onetime commanding officer, saw him clutching the thing like a lifeline. He’d left his guide dog, Lulu, upstairs, and without her, he was dependent on the cane for doing recon. That and his friends’ description of the room’s layout.

Starting at the train station, Mace had narrated the sights and obstacles to Dillon with natural efficiency. Yeah, ole Mace had always had a sensitive streak, a big one, and he’d already proven himself more attuned to Dillon’s disability than most of his friends and family had been back home in Nashville. His mother had cried all through his recent ordeal of getting wounded and then shipped stateside to the naval hospital. He often wanted to remind her that he was blind now, not deaf, as he heard her sniffling.

Mace, on the other hand, acted as if nothing had changed, which was all Dillon wanted––to be the man he’d always been, with his friends treating him just as they always had.

Dillon shoved his cane into the back pocket of his cargo shorts, which Mace obviously noted. “Nothing on the floor around you, bro,” his friend said. “You’re good for several feet either way. The walls, they’re lined with bookshelves like the one you’re feeling right now. My dad’s old desk is over in the corner, nine o’clock to you. A big rolltop that Jamie hogs most of the time.”

“Shut up,” Jamie growled, but Dillon could hear the smile in his voice. Mason had often talked about how close he and his siblings were. If nothing else came from this little reunion, it meant a lot to Dillon just to meet Mace’s family after hearing about them for so many years.

Mason continued his verbal tour of the cellar. “Some of these books go back to ancient times, but we keep those in a temperature controlled case,” he explained. “We’ve had museums contact us and offer huge sums of money, but we can’t afford to let go of the collection, not a single volume.”

“Yeah, too much power between the pages,” Jamie agreed, his voice filled with the kind of healthy, cautious respect Dillon had encountered plenty of times in the Corps when Marines discussed their rifles or an insurgent who proved particularly difficult to extricate. You didn’t underestimate the effectiveness of either one—friend or foe.

Dillon trailed his hand along the shelf behind him. He couldn’t get a fix on how tall it was, and out of habit, he blinked. It was hard to shake the sense, even now, that if he could just clear his eyes, he’d be able to see his surroundings. But the fact was Dillon lived in pitch blackness, had from the moment of the explosion over in Iraq. His eyes worked fine. It was the wiring in his brain that was fried to hell, rendering him sightless.

And nothing, absolutely nothing, annoyed a Marine more than working blind. That’s why the Corps relied on night vision goggles and infrared and every other tool of the trade to defeat the full darkness Dillon now lived with 24-7.

“These books, they’re our intel,” Mason explained. “Information is king, just like back in our recon days. We study what hunters before us learned and tried, we read firsthand accounts and religious texts. And all that’s in this room.”

Dillon folded arms across his broad chest, grinning in mild amusement. “In other words, this is where you plot to overthrow the forces of darkness, Mr. Super Bad.”

Mason made a low rumbling sound as he laughed. It reminded Dillon of old times. Better times. When there’d been plenty of reasons for all of their best friends to cut it up together.

“Make us sound like freaks, why don’t you, Foxy?” Mason said, using one of about ten nicknames his friends had given him back in the day.

“Freaky is as freaky does, bud,” Dillon fired back, laughing, too. “But how do you fight these demons without any juice?”

“Dude,” Mace said. “This is firepower of the printed kind. Haven’t you heard the one about the pen being mightier than the sword?”

“I don’t think Al Qaeda got that memo,” Dillon said, growing deadly serious. “And when I’m facing off with the enemy, I need the feel of a weapon in my hand. The kind that locks and loads. So I’m just wondering where you keep the real rock ’n’ roll around here.”

Jamie walked closer, his shoes, likely loafers, clicking on the floor. “We’re fully outfitted, don’t worry. Everything’s in the adjoining cellar,” he explained in a voice that was at least as deep as Mace’s, but colored by a more pronounced Southern accent. Mason’s years in the Corps must’ve blunted his own drawl. Same deal with Dillon himself. Few people believed he’d grown up in Nashville when he told them, but that’s what ten years worth of postings everywhere from Okinawa to San Diego to Anbar Province did to you. Dillon was a little bit of everywhere now, at least vocally. Even if most days he felt a whole lot of nowhere because of his blindness.

“Why do I have a feeling you won’t be showing me around that part of the installation?” Dillon laughed darkly. Yeah, who in their right mind would trust a blind man with any kind of weapon?

“We’ll show you whatever you want, Dillon,” Jamie said smoothly. “’Cause Mace asked you here to Savannah for a very particular reason….” Jamie left the sentence trail off, an obvious invitation for Mason to finish.

Beside him, Mace sucked in a breath and blurted, “We want to recruit you, Dillon. For the Shades.”

“You what?” Dillon exclaimed in stunned disbelief.

“We want you to work with us as a hunter,” Mason answered evenly. “To learn our lore, the skills we possess in battling darkness.”

Dillon snorted. “I think I’ve gotten pretty good at battling darkness, which is why I’m not cut out for your trade.”

Nah, it wasn’t too likely any of the Angel family’s books came in Braille. Not that Dillon would be able to make much out of them anyway. Despite the months he’d spent in therapy at Bethesda Naval, he remained a moron when it came to reading with his fingertips. “I can’t read for shit, man. And can’t sight a rifle, either. So I’m not really sure why your unit would want a broke dick like me.”

Mason sighed. “Jesus H., I asked you here for a reason, man. I need you. We all need you right now.”

Nobody needed a blind man. His girlfriend of two years had dumped him early and fast; he’d barely been out of the hospital when she’d pulled that maneuver. Something about his having “changed” during his two long deployments in Iraq. Yeah, right. No doubt her dump-and-cover routine was really about his fumbling awkwardness the first time they’d made love after he got out of the hospital. That, and his intense self-consciousness about his disability and his periodic memory-loss issues. The main point was she sure as hell didn’t waste any time beating tracks out of his life.

As for his beloved Marines, well…they’d given him a Purple Heart and an honorable discharge, along with his one hundred percent disability. Sayonara, Gunny Fox.

So much for brotherhood, right?

“Brotherhood,” Dillon muttered under his breath, blinking at the darkness.

Mason made an exasperated sound low in his throat. “Damn it, Dill Weed, you’re such a jackass, you know that?”

Dillon tilted his chin upward defiantly. “I don’t wanna be anybody’s pity fuck.”

“Fuck you, too. You’re not even my type.” Mace said that last bit a lot more quietly, clearing his throat after making the remark.

Awkward.

Dillon’s face heated. He’d said too much. Mace had dealt with his own loss in the past year, but that was another story altogether, one they’d agreed never to discuss—in that nonverbal, silent avoidance way that fellow warriors were only too good at. Their comrade Kelly O’Connell’s death over in Iraq had led to Mace’s own discharge from the Corps, only two months after Dillon was nearly blasted off that fucking Iraqi rooftop. But Dillon was well aware that he’d been lucky; they’d lost two fellow Marines in the same attack. Although when you got right down to it, luck didn’t have anything to do with it. He’d been spared, period. Dillon couldn’t help feeling guilty, wondering why he’d been tapped to survive when better men, ones with kids and wives and lives back home, had died. That feeling hounded him, locked on his guts like a missile.

Dillon rubbed a palm over his short hair, thinking. Maybe they were serious about needing him. It couldn’t hurt to at least learn a little more, right? And it wasn’t like he’d found anything to apply himself to, not since his discharge.

Mason must’ve seen Dillon’s expression change, become more receptive, because he plunged ahead. “I’m not blowing sunshine up your skirt, Dill. We really need your help.” His tone was serious, a little intense and urgent.

“Okay…okay,” Dillon said, reaching for his cane on instinct. “But why me? That’s what I don’t get.”

“You’re one handsome motherfucker. That’s why,” Mason said with a grin in his voice.

“Ah, a beauty contest. No wonder you exempted yourself and entered me for top prize. Natch.” Dillon smiled in the direction of his friend’s voice. “Now give me the real answer.”

Mason sighed, a long, slow exhalation, the kind that sounded worn out. Like maybe he’d been after this particular target for a long while, without success. “We’re all obvious, that’s why,” Mace said. “The enemy would suspect us going in. This is an old guard Savannah family I’m talking about, people who know us and are very aware of what we do.”

“What you do,” Dillon repeated, still not sure exactly what the Shades did to battle evil, but also finding himself increasingly curious.

“What we hunt,” Jamie clarified on his brother’s behalf. “And how we do it. Our particular brand of expertise is no secret around town.”

Mason added in a rush, “But you, Dillon? You’re new blood. A handsome guy with spot-on instincts and a warrior’s skills. We need you to infiltrate their ranks, and confirm our suspicions about this family…about what we think they are. See, there’s a party tonight, out on Tybee. You and I go, drink a few beers, and you move in on the target. Who just so happens to be a really hot female, by the way. One who’s got a thing for Marines and warrior types in general. She dated one of my buddies when I was at the Citadel. So, yeah, in you walk with your GQ face—”

“I’m not that good looking.” Dillon rolled his eyes.

“I can think of several dozen women around Camp Lejeune who’d disagree with that one, Dill. You were a babe magnet.”

“Glory days,” Dillon sang, trying to deflect the embarrassing attention. When you could no longer see yourself in the mirror, it became harder to believe you were still hot. “So…I hit this party with you, and what?”

“We drive out to the beach later this afternoon, have a few brewskies. Regular relaxing time on Labor Day weekend, period.”

“And?” Dillon prompted, waiting for the rest.

“And, like I said, you chat up the mark,” Mason replied easily, unaware of just how far Dillon had fallen from his game. “Dazzle her with your dimples. Charm her with your wounded hero routine and bam. She’s all in. And that makes you, my friend, our ultimate secret weapon.”

“Secret how?” Dillon knew the answer before he asked, but he was as blunt as he’d always been, and wasn’t about to start sparing anyone’s feelings now. “Because I’m a blind son of a bitch, you think she won’t suspect I’m one of your anti-evil operatives?”

“Yes,” Mason told him with unflinching frankness. “We believe that the people we’re talking about would naturally discount you and your skills, that this female target would take you at face value.”

Dillon cleared his throat, turning in the direction of his friend’s voice. “Mace. Dude. I’m not worth my salt for any man’s battle. Not like this.” He pointed toward his sightless eyes with a significant gesture.

Mason took a few steps closer, his shoes making a squeegee sound on the floor. Nikes, probably. “This isn’t a man’s battle,” he said smoothly, but his voice was like cold steel. “In fact, it isn’t a war against men at all.”

“You said this was an old guard Savannah family,” Dillon pointed out, frowning. It was like Mace and Jamie were talking in circles, everything as clear as the darkness that Dillon lived with every day. “Are they a Savannah family or something else entirely?” Dillon pushed, starting to feel annoyed and frustrated. “Straight shot here, boys. Lay it out for me.”

There was a few more seconds of silence, and then it was Jamie who stepped to the plate. “They’re not like any humans you’ve ever met, not like any family you know. Trust us,” he said somberly.

“Fuck me,” Dill said, whistling under his breath. “Are you saying they’re demons, then?”

Mason and Jamie spoke in unison, their similar voices perfectly in synch. “Vampires.”

Demons were one thing—he’d done his time in the pews of his parents’ Baptist church growing up and seen enough shit in the war zone. Yeah, demons he could buy wholesale, but vampires? He didn’t know any book or passage of the Bible where you’d find mention of that.

“You’re punking me,” he said, wishing he could see his way out of the room. The darkness was closing in on him, becoming claustrophobic. Jerking his head toward the doorway, he started feeling along the shelf, wanting to bolt. “I don’t know what kind of dumbshit you think I am––”

“Is this room real?” Mason asked, voice intense.

“Yeah, like I don’t see that one coming.” Dillon stopped his awkward steps, pressing his hand against the bookshelf, steadying himself.

“Dillon, is this room real?” Mason repeated.

“I’m blind, not stupid, buttsuck,” Dillon hissed angrily.

Mason punched his arm. “Answer the goddamned question.”

“Yes, Captain Angel, sir! This goddamned room is real, sir,” Dillon barked back at his friend.

Mason’s breath was right against Dillon’s face, warm, urgent. “So are vampires. So is darkness. It’s real, all of it. And it’s around us, whether we see it or not. So the question isn’t whether vampires exist, Dillon, ’cause okay they do,” Mason continued intently, his voice hushed, electric. “And it’s not whether you’re still a warrior. That heart’s always gonna beat inside you, my friend.” Mace flicked the center of Dillon’s chest significantly. “No, Dillon Fox, all of that was settled long ago. There’s only one real question now: whether you’re still willing to fight.”

“You know that I am,” Dillon whispered fiercely, blinking at the darkness.

“That’s what I wanted to hear.” Mace clasped his shoulder with a strong, reassuring grip.

“It’s what I knew I’d hear, too.”

“Tell me what it is you want me to do. I don’t think I get it. It’s got to be more than charming her panties off…literally.”

Mace didn’t say anything, the long pause more than a little weighty.

“Right?” Dillon repeated more sharply. “I mean, hell, you wouldn’t recruit me to just go seduce some poor little vampire chick, would you?”

“Nothing poor or sad or pitiful about this one, dude. Trust me there.” Mason whistled low. “She’s more like danger incarnate. And, yeah, as a matter of fact, I’d love for you to get close to her tonight, and frankly, I don’t care how you pull that off. But we need you to find something in particular. It’s more than confirming her identity—if she’d even let you. It’s about a family heirloom––Their family’s mating ring, which by our calculations…she’s supposed to need sometime soon for her ritual mating ceremony.”

“She’s going to mate?” Dillon was incredulous. Mating? That sounded like something from a freaky SyFy channel show. Or Animal Planet.

Jamie moved closer and said, “From the research and reading we’ve done—from all that we know––she’s at the critical point. The female’s blood is a kind of bargaining chip in their society. And rumor has it that Kate’s line is deadly pure. So if she’s already done the deed, your presence will reveal her partner because mated male vamps are crazy possessive. And if she hasn’t mated, you can find this ring for us before she gives it to the male at her mating ritual.”

Dillon rubbed his eyes. His head was hurting a little more sharply than it often did; he lived with chronic pain because of his brain injury. “You want a blind man to find a ring,” he muttered, trying to beat back the sharp pain in his head. “Freaking awesome.”

“Who better?” Mace laughed. “She’ll have her guard down, and you can search her room, maybe find a jewelry box.”

“Or maybe trip over my own two feet and make an ass of myself.” It was so easy for someone without a disability to ignore the issues Dillon faced with his blindness.

“You get around better than old Jamie here does, so shut up,” Mason said.

Maybe he should take on this mission, Dillon thought, suddenly feeling an odd surge of excitement, a sense of purpose that had been missing for far too long. What had he done in the past year, what point had his life even had? But now Mason and Jamie actually needed him. He was skilled and capable, and hell, even with his ruined vision, maybe he could do this thing.

Dillon cleared his throat. “Okay, so I understand the mission and the objective. But why is it so important to determine whether she’s taken a…mate or not?”

Neither of the Angel brothers answered at first, and Dillon would’ve sworn they were trying to decide what to tell him, possibly trading glances. Finally Mace replied, “Because once she mates, she’ll become fully vampire. The females don’t drink until they’re mated. She hasn’t been a threat to our community, but that will change once she’s mated. So…we need to know if our intel is right.”

“So, I get close to her and we confirm all this. That she’s about to mate, about to start…feeding or whatever. Then what?”

“If we’re right,” Mason answered, “then we have to kill her.”

CHAPTER TWO

Kate stood by the kitchen sink and scrutinized the living room. She’d already ensured that all the chip bowls had been refilled and the dip freshened. There were paper napkins with seashells fanned beside the party platters and citronella candles burning in every corner. Out on the deck overlooking the beach, there were three giant metal tubs filled with beer and Cokes and lots of ice. An hour into this end of summer bash that her brother, Toby, had insisted on having, everything was on track. So far nobody had broken anything—legally speaking or otherwise. She should be having fun, enjoying catching up with some of the friends she’d not seen since the Fourth of July.

So why was there a knot in her stomach, one that had her feeling vaguely nauseous as she prepared to do another pass through the party crowd?

She knew exactly why her palms were sweating. And why she felt dizzy and light-headed. And if she forgot, she was totally sure Toby would keep reminding her, well into the night.

Her body and her life were a ticking time bomb. If she didn’t want to die in the coming weeks, this party would be her last as a single woman—and the last where she could pretend she was a Normal human. Time to grow up, the end. As eldest female of their generation, she was obligated to mate with a full-blooded vampire to preserve the bloodline. Not so for Toby, who could mate freely and without the supervision of the elders and their father. For Kate, however, looking toward Normals wasn’t tolerated—no matter how intensely her mating urges seemed to compel her toward human males instead of breedable male vampires.

Her father and older brother believed her desires the work of demons, the way she craved the touch of someone so alien to her. They said the holy scriptures were clear on the point—that if one yearned to mingle across species lines, it was the work of Satan.

It was like a sickness in her blood, and no matter how she tried to explain to Daddy and Toby the way she burned for a human mate, they discounted her needs completely. Maybe they were right; maybe she was listening to the dark spirits when she should just keep asking God for the right mate. The one he had destined for her, not the one she’d encountered in those strange, sightless dreams nearly every night for the past year. But she could smell him, touch him, feel him, night after night, and it only made her blood burn hotter for the faceless human male––a man who was, quite literally, the man of her darkest dreams.

But even those dreams were dismissed by her family. It was natural for a vampire female to dream of her mate—in fact, it was the way couples were drawn together, beckoned toward one another. But she knew the man she’d been dreaming of was human. She could smell his blood, the coppery tang so different from any vampire male’s tangy scent. The dreams raised an important question. If she kept praying that God would bring her the mate he had ordained, and if she kept dreaming about this nameless, faceless human, wasn’t it possible that her desires weren’t evil or dark at all, but rather her destiny?

It was a fruitless hope, though. She turned to the sink and wiped her hands on a towel with a dejected sigh. This party had been Toby’s idea, a big summer blowout to allow her to feel like a Normal for one last hurrah, to play the game before he and her father escorted her to Charleston to meet several eligible men from the full-blood families. Toby just didn’t get it, remaining as sanguine and clueless as ever in his outlook on life, but then again it wasn’t his duty to preserve their family’s pure bloodline. That responsibility fell entirely to her, rendering her without any choices of her own, and no amount of beach parties would ever change that fact.

Toby could laugh it up, do shots, and never stop grinning because he didn’t suffer under any mandate as to whom he’d eventually marry. His mate could be human or vampire or any blend in between. But Kate’s female bloodline, one of the most pure and undiluted in all of the Southeast, fell under the aegis of codicils that were hundreds of years old. She literally had no right to choose for herself. Equal rights for women had no play in their courts, and her blood was to be preserved—and used—at the discretion of others.

“Kate, girl! What’re you doing hiding back here in the kitchen?” Her friend Sunny plopped down both hands on the marble kitchen counter, squaring off with Kate from across the bar.

“Just making sure we’re all set with everything,” she said, lying through her teeth. She didn’t want to be at this party anymore than she wanted to deal with her biological and familial deadlines.

“You ain’t gonna hide in here anymore. You’re coming outside with me. On the deck, now.” Sunny wagged a finger, and although she still smiled, it didn’t reach her eyes. Her friend knew firsthand just how much Kate was struggling these days; she was also the only Normal who Kate had ever told the truth about being a vampire. Sunny, oddly enough, said that nifty little revelation didn’t faze her in the least, that she’d always known Kate was special, ever since they met in their fifth grade gifted class. Except…something about Sunny had always been different, too. At times, Kate found it hard to believe her lifelong best friend wasn’t a vampire, as well.

“I’m telling you, Katydid. There’s some yummy-ass men out there, circulating round your party. Come on now, you can’t hide your love away!” Sunny’s brown eyes crinkled at the edges, playful and teasing in their expression. Her honey-dark skin seemed touched by the sun after the long day on the beach. Kate’s pale skin always burned easily, whereas Sunny’s African-American complexion only grew richer and more lovely.

“I’ll come out there. Just let me feed the cats real quick.”

Sunny swept a black eyebrow upward. “You fed ’em before the party. I saw you do it.” She glanced significantly toward the outside. “You better go feed the dawgs now.”

“You’re a hot mess, Sunny Renfroe, you know that?”

Sunny planted a hand on her hip, cocking her head sideways. “This funk you’re in’s gotta end. Like, I’m talking tonight.”

“It’s still afternoon.” Kate busied herself with spraying down the bar so as to avoid her friend’s prying gaze.

They’d spent the past few days hanging out, catching up. Sunny lived in Athens now, where she’d stayed after they’d graduated from University of Georgia. She worked at the Botanical Gardens, and Kate envied her sorority sister’s satisfaction in her job. Whereas Kate seemed to struggle with the nagging sense that she should be doing more than running her family’s bookstore, Sunny tackled new skills and challenges without batting an eye. Kate envied her friend’s serenity, a peace that forever eluded Kate, just as that faceless, nameless man from her nightly dreams did.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. She knew his scent as surely as she knew the wonderful smell of the beach just beyond the open sliding glass doors. It was warm and soothing and arousing all at once; she’d known from the very first dream that if she ever caught even the faintest whiff of that human’s aroma in her waking life, she’d be hooked like an addict.

Sunny picked up a discarded towel and flicked Kate on the arm with it. “Come on. I just saw Mason Angel and some friend out there.”

Kate’s skin prickled, alarms going off in her head. “You did not.” Mason wouldn’t have the balls to show up here, in the midst of her party, would he? The Angels and the Rabineaus were like the pentagram and the cross, they just didn’t mix without everyone’s hackles rising.

“Come on and give him hell, girlfriend. It’ll take the edge off.” Sunny started across the room.

“The edge off what?” Kate called after her, already trying to scan the crowd of mostly twenty-somethings gathered outside on the deck.

Sunny did a one-eighty, sailing back toward Kate. Eyes mischievously wide, she stage-whispered, “The edge off your mating itch, that’s what.”

He was beautiful, no other way to put it. The tall, broad-shouldered guy beside Mason Angel, leaning against the deck railing like he owned the space, was absolutely positively drop-dead gorgeous. He seemed to be looking across the deck at nothing in particular, a faint smile playing at the edge of his full, luscious lips. She couldn’t see what his eyes looked like, the dark wrap-around designer shades obscured them. But that smile…was a true thing of beauty, making him seem mildly amused with life in general and her party in particular.

And he had dimples that were so deep they popped even at his hint of a smile. His dark brown hair spiked short and stylish, but with the kind of GQ effortlessness that meant he was danger on wheels. A guy who, obviously pushing thirty, seemed single and fully fine with that fact, a little cocky in his self-assurance. So Mason Angel had brought reinforcements for his party-crashing maneuver. Releasing the clip that held her ponytail, Kate let her long blond hair fall loose down her back. She had a few weapons of her own at her disposal, and she planned to use them.

Holding her daiquiri overhead so she wouldn’t somehow wind up with it sloshed onto the front of her sundress, she pressed her way through the party. From the stereo, an old Jackson Five song blared, music just made for a beach party like this one. She had to squeeze through a couple of frat boy pals of Toby’s, guys with thick drawls who were already well on their way to being drunk. With another glance, she laid eyes on Mason and his gorgeous friend and shoved a little closer, nearly to them.

She opened her mouth to greet Mason—the jerk knew he was crashing, she didn’t have to call him out on it. But before she could ask him what in blazes he was doing at her party, her cat Venus screeched and wailed past her ankles, making a horrible, warbling sound of distress that bordered on the demonic.

The crowd parted like the Red Sea, her blurring ball of terror loose like a firecracker. A guy behind her tried to sidestep the caterwauling little kitty and managed to bump right into her. Which in turn sent her daiquiri careening out of her overhead grasp and all over the front of her brand new Ann Taylor end-of-season sundress.

“What the hell?” she said, right as one of her other cats, DeMilo, chased past her ankle, then leaped onto the railing, knocking some hapless guest’s beer bottle down into the dunes.

And then she saw the full-on, undeniable source of the cat terror. The guy. Mr. GQ on a Stick had caused it all. The drop-dead gorgeous, beautiful man had come here—to her beach house, uninvited, no less—and brought a dog. A tongue-lolling, happy-looking black Labrador. The thoughtless jerk. Typical. Totally typical of the company the Angel boys kept.

“Excuse me, sir,” she said, poking a finger into the stranger’s very muscular chest. “But what in sweet Jesus’ name do you think you’re doing? Bringing that animal to my….”

She didn’t finish, didn’t even try and salvage what she’d been about to say. Because everything became crystal clear in another speed-of-light second. His scent, the same as the one from her dream. The blacked-out sightlessness from it, too. The sign on the Labrador’s harness that read, “Guide Dogs for the Blind.” And Mason Angel, his green eyes wide and telegraphing as he gestured toward his friend significantly.

Every last bit of the series of events seemed to train wreck together, box cars slamming into box cars, words being spoken all at once, apologies muttered, the man dropping to his knees and tugging his dog much closer.

“I’m so sorry,” he muttered, huddling the dog against his knees as he stroked its head. “I didn’t realize you had cats.”

She knelt beside him, and covered his hand with her own, resting it against the dog’s side. “No, no, I didn’t realize…not that you––”

“Really, it’s okay,” he reassured her, but he wasn’t smiling any more, not even that charming hint of a grin. His tanned and freckled cheeks had stained red, his embarrassment obvious.

She squeezed his hand slightly. “I’m the one who’s sorry. I just didn’t know…”

For one long moment, their hands lingered together, her softer skin against his rough palms. She could feel showers of electric warmth shoot up into her forearm, reaching all the way into her chest like wildfire. That burning sensation unleashed her mating urges before she could stop them, rendering her breathless, trembling. And still they held hands, neither moving, neither saying anything. Was he feeling the same cascade of sensation and need as she was? Was that why he didn’t say a word? It couldn’t be possible that he shared in the same crazy, intense sensations that were swamping her. He wasn’t a vampire. He was a Normal, and only her kind experienced such volatile mating instincts. Or dreamed about the man they were meant to…mate with. Oh, holy crud.

“Where are they now?” he asked, and the question brought her back to the moment. Slowly she released his hand. As soon as she did, he sidled his dog closer against his knees, as if the absence of her own touch had somehow made him feel vulnerable. It had to be unsettling for him, to be in a party full of strangers, totally blind, your guide dog distracted by the presence of two unruly cats ping-ponging around the deck. “Are they gone?” he added, petting the dog’s side with a soothing gesture.

“My cats? Yeah, they went parasailing into the dunes. They won’t bother your dog.”

He looked up and around as if he might be able to see. Perhaps he was partially sighted? Or maybe newly blinded? She’d lay money that he was one of Mason’s fellow Marines, injured in combat—probably recently. Given the short cut of his hair, and his physical strength and overall bearing, he smacked of the military. Which did absolutely nothing to dampen her interest and attraction to him. In their vampire society, warriors made up their highest caste, always revered and honored. Those who had been injured in combat of any kind were at the pinnacle of the social strata.

He was even dressed in a vaguely military manner, wearing a tight-fitting black T-shirt and khaki cargo shorts, ones that revealed his powerful, muscular legs, and as he leaned back on his heels another wave of mating heat rolled through her veins. She couldn’t help herself: she instantly imagined parting those legs, feeling all that silky hair and strength poised between her own thighs. Her face burned hot and she was glad he couldn’t see the shame in her expression. But that didn’t mean Mason couldn’t, and she let her hair fall across her cheek, obscuring her flushed features from his scoundrel’s inspection.

That and she gave a quick glance to locate Toby, and was thankful to see that he and his pack of rowdy pals were heading down to the beach. If he’d noticed that she was practically panting after a gorgeous Normal, he’d have hauled her as far away from Mr. GQ as quickly as possible. So as she watched him shoulder an ice chest down the wooden steps to the beach, she felt…free. Independent.

With Toby out of the way, she took a quick moment to study the stranger’s beautiful face. The light dusting of beard growth on his jaw, the soft fullness of his lips, the faint scar between his eyebrows…all of it gave him a slightly roguish appearance, which only made him even more appealing. “Perfect,” she sighed before she could stop herself.

“Excuse me?” He inclined his head closer toward her, trying to hear over the music.

She blushed, heat fingering all the way into her chest. “Uh, I’m really sorry about all…this,” she said, far too breathlessly for a chance encounter on a crowded deck. Her words came out on a soft exhalation, and she leaned into him slightly, unable to restrain her urge to be all up against him. Who was she kidding? She was the cat here, and he was all lap. She wanted to curl up next to him and rub up against him, sniff his neck and then purr against his chest—right before she absolutely begged him to haul her off to the bedroom for a proper lovemaking.

“This was my bad, bringing Lulu without checking,” he said quietly. “I usually remember to do that when there’s a party.”

“Oh that’s just plain wrong. Don’t you dare be sorry,” she said, starting to laugh, and touched his hand again.

His dark brown eyebrows rode high above his sunglasses, and he started to smile again, finally. “I wasn’t. Not really,” he admitted, and she caught a much stronger whiff of his scent. The force of it made her eyes water; she had to splay a hand against the wooden deck because the aroma wafting off his Normal’s skin swamped her, totally. The blackness, the utter sightlessness of her dreams made sense now—she’d been seeing the world as he did.

She needed to know his name. More than she needed a next breath, or to spar with Mason Angel, or to look at another guest at that party, she had to know this man. From the outside to the very core of him, she wanted to know and touch and hold him. All of him. The dreams had done their job, quite effectively, as a matter of fact. But why had her mating dreams been of a human?

He shifted his hand beneath hers and only then did she realize that she’d never stopped touching him. Instead of pulling away, she actually took hold of his hand again, squeezing their fingers together. “I’m Katherine,” she said softly, wishing he weren’t wearing the sunglasses as she searched his face. “Katherine Rabineau.”

He smiled in earnest for the first time, his deep dimples coming into full view. “Kate for short, I bet, huh?”

“Mason told you.” She scowled up at her lifelong nemesis, who assumed a bored, nonchalant expression, taking a long swig of beer.

“He said you’re a stunner. A really beautiful woman.”

“He did?” she whispered.

He patted his dog, drawling, “There are some ways in which Lulu here falls short, you know. Situations where you need the eyes of your buddy to relay info on the local hot spots.” He lingered on those last two words, his full, luscious lips seeming to taste the insinuation. “But I like the idea of you giving me that kind of tour, not him.”

“Your scent…” She leaned a little closer to him, trying to drink his masculine, human aroma deep inside of her. “I know…” You. I know you.

Slowly he lifted his sunglasses, sliding them atop his head. “This is going to sound really strange,” he said after a moment, his focus on her, even as his eyes stared blankly ahead. But that fact, it didn’t matter. The life and fire she saw in their vivid blue depths made her tremble. “I mean…don’t take this the wrong way,” he amended, a soft twang in his voice, “but, I really—and I mean really, Kate—like how you smell.”

“You like my scent,” she repeated in disbelief and he nodded vigorously.

“Oh, hell yeah. Kate…God, woman. You’re beautiful. Gorgeous. And I don’t need my goddamned eyes to realize that.”

CHAPTER THREE

It was the scent of heaven itself, a strange mix of arousing and intoxicating. Dillon felt dizzy suddenly, and maybe it was just one of his occasional problems because of the brain injury, but he didn’t think so. It was much more like he…fuck, swooned. This hot chick had him swooning, for God’s sake.

He blinked, and for a moment there was only the thump-thump of the music, the bass strong enough that he could feel a slight vibration beating through the deck. Chaka Khan’s “I Feel for You” wasn’t exactly cooling off his hotwired libido. It was putting ideas in his head.

“I don’t know your name,” she said, the words somehow managing to be thoroughly suggestive, lingering in the air like a promise. He’d have sworn he felt the heat of her breath brush against his cheek as she leaned closer.

“Dillon. Dillon Fox.”

She giggled lightly, a girlish, happy sound that made him smile. “Okay, so that means Fox has a dog that hates cats!” She laughed a little harder, squeezing his hand again. “Sweet!”

He leaned closer toward her, inhaling once again, and went hard as a stone inside his shorts, surreptitiously trying to adjust himself so that Kate wouldn’t notice. That was the kicker: she might be staring right at his groin for all he knew. He dragged Lulu closer, making her a doggie shield and prayed that his cock would calm the hell down.

Since when had the scent of any female gotten him lathered up like this? It was spooky, strange. But not unfamiliar, come to think of it. He’d dreamed about this girl’s distinctive aroma, starting months ago. A year ago, maybe, when he was at Bethesda Naval going through rehab. This scent of hers was the first dark dream he’d ever had—one without images or sight. It had scared him at first, made him fear that his sighted dreams would soon be snuffed out. Until it became clear that, although the recurring dream was one of blindness, it was also one of hope. Desire. A future.

The supposed vampire beside him smelled like that future.

And that realization sent him tumbling back to reality. She was a vampire. So this smell thing had to be part of the deal, some voodoo type magic she could work, leaving him vulnerable. But Mason hadn’t said she was dangerous, not exactly…had he? This gig was all about ID’ing the suspect, confirming the Angel brothers’ suspicions. If Kate was dangerous, well, Mace would’ve said so.

Right?

Dillon was clearly in way over his head and sinking fast, his hard-on pointing the way like the needle on a compass.

“Mason!” he barked, feeling a little stranded and panicky, which happened in crowds like this sometimes. Especially if it seemed you might be in a party full of freaky-ass bloodsuckers.

“Mace, where you at, dude?”

His friend’s firm, strong grip came down on his shoulder. “I’m right here, buddy. Chill. It’s all good.”

Kate’s hand moved to his upper arm, and she touched him gently. “Let’s go inside. It’s hot out here, and I’ll get you a beer and some chips and stuff.” Then her voice turned sharper. “While Mason Angel occupies himself out here.”

“Aw, come on, Kate. We’re ole friends now.” Mason laughed.

“I’ll choose not to comment on that claim,” Kate said, tugging on his hand as she stood.

“I’ve gotta go change out of my sundress which is drenched in booze. Come on, Dillon.”

Dillon rose cautiously to his feet, gripping Lulu’s harness in his now-sweaty hand. Whatever was going on here, this effect Kate was having on him, it didn’t feel natural—and given that Lulu was distracted and he hadn’t learned the layout of the beach house, it wasn’t exactly easy to adjust to anything else new or unusual to his world.

“Maybe I should take off for a while,” Mason volunteered in a breezy tone. “Come back later tonight after you and Kate have had your chips and beers, huh?”

Dillon scowled and mouthed the word “vampire” in Mason’s direction, making sure he was turned away from Kate. They’d concocted a plan for Mace to leave Dillon alone with Kate before Dillon had realized her freaky effect on him. She was turning out to be pure kryptonite, so it probably wasn’t genius thinking to leave him alone with a candy jar full of the stuff.

“Uh, Mace, you need to stick around, don’t you think?” Dillon urged.

“No,” Kate disagreed adamantly, “I don’t think. Take off, Mason Angel. Be gone!”

Dillon shook his head, a little light-headed. “Mace, bro, I don’t know my way around here….”

Yeah, it was crappy to play the blind card, but he did not need to be left alone with Kate Rabineau. Not yet, at least.

“I’ll take excellent care of you,” Kate said, touching his arm.

“Let me talk to Dill for a sec, Katie? Okay?” Mason said.

“I’m not Katie, at least not to you, but sure.”

Mason leaned close, whispering in Dillon’s ear, “You guys are already hooking up, so keep it going. No way is she mated, not with the way she’s responding to you. But we need to learn everything you can about the mating transition. When will she begin to feed? Will it be from humans? That’s what I need to know. What you gotta find out, man.”

And if Kate did drink from humans? That would mean that gorgeous, sweet-smelling female was going to be toast. An added complication, the realization that his mission might end her life.

“It’s an easy first mission, really. Not too dangerous. Just important from an intel standpoint,” Mason explained and then took a step back, raising his voice so Kate could hear.

“Can’t go too fast. You’re just getting started,” Mason said with enough cryptic meaning that Kate would think Mace was referring to her, not the Shades.

Discreetly, Dillon gave his old friend the one-fingered salute. “Buddy fucker,” Dillon grumbled under his breath.

“Nah, just your commanding officer,” Mace announced proudly. “Always and forever.”

“Somehow, though,” Dillon answered back, trying to hold his breath so as to not catch any more of Kate’s luscious aroma, “I think these are very different than the good ole days.”

“Welcome to my world.” Mason laughed languidly. “Call me later and I’ll come get you…if there is a later, that is, as opposed to a tomorrow morning.”

Dillon clutched Lulu’s harness, noting the thick pile carpet that sponged beneath his flip flops. Since losing his sight, he’d been surprised by how often he defined his environment by the ground or floor beneath his feet. Kate’s beach house had some sort of tiled floor all the way to the back hallway, and they’d obviously passed through the kitchen, the smell of spicy sauces and hot dogs and citronella all wafting in the air.

“Here,” Kate told him now, the sounds of the party receding down the hall behind them.

“My room.” She started to take hold of his hand and then stopped herself. “Well that was just plain stupid. You’re supposed to hold on to me. I know that’s how it works. Duh!”

He smiled, laughing low. “You’re right. I would like to hold on to you.” And not to help me get around, either. Maybe she was a vampire, but for just that moment, he wanted to believe that she wasn’t evil or frightening. She didn’t make him feel threatened at all, apart from the strange sensation that he’d always known her, and the reality that he’d started dreaming about her a year ago. No, he definitely didn’t want to believe she was dangerous. She was, however, extremely feminine and insanely sexy. So being alone with her was already about far more than his stealth mission for the Shades. It was about the woman herself.

Besides, if he seduced her, that would only increase the likelihood of his gaining the key intel. So maybe it was a good plan to give in to the attraction instead of fighting it. Besides, he’d made a lifestyle out of flirting with danger, why not take that up a notch and into the bedroom?

“Do you need to take my arm?” she prompted him, ignoring his flirtatious comment.

He smiled in her direction. “Lulu will lead the way…for now. Later, well, we’ll discuss my needs. And yours.”

She stopped abruptly, spinning right into his chest. “Good golly, Molly, you’re just absurdly confident.”

He caught his hand about her waist, pinning her against him. “What? You think a blind guy can’t find his way into a woman’s bedroom?”

“Uh, no. You’re already in my bedroom.”

“My point exactly.”

There was an awkward moment of silence, then she said, “I have a little settee. Can I show it to you?”

“Please,” he said, still holding her close. “But not until you tell me why you smell like this. Is it some expensive perfume? Lotion? What the hell is it? ’Cause it’s doing something crazy to me.”

Her hands slid about his hips and she pressed right up against him, trembling. “It’s not something I’m wearing, Dillon,” she said. “It’s just…me.”

Barely. Somehow. Amazingly, Kate managed to disengage her hands from about Dillon’s waist. She’d been about an inch away from leaning up and kissing him. Talk about a sneak attack. Geez, Louise, but that would’ve hit him out of nowhere.

Taking two steps back, she tried to regain her equilibrium. “Here. Have a seat,” she indicated, and he found the small sofa at the foot of her bed.

He flopped down and began petting his dog as she quickly searched the room. There were things on the floor, the sort he might trip over, and she rushed about scooping up discarded sandals, books, and magazines, tossing them onto a corner chair. Her heart hammered out a frenzied pace. She’d never had a man in her room before—ever. She’d invited him back here as if it were an everyday occurrence, but now that he was sitting only a few feet from her bed, she found that her mating urges were hitting whole new levels. If she couldn’t rein in her reactions to him, what then? She might actually seduce him, and it wasn’t like he’d understand that she was in the throes of a vampiric mating frenzy.

How could she stop this crazy train now that it had left the station? If she wasn’t careful, she was going to wind up mating with Dillon by accident. And what then? Her family would shun her, Dillon would find out she was a vampire and that her kind existed outside of movies and novels. Failing all that, if Toby came back from the beach soon and discovered she had a Normal in her room, he might beat a blind war hero within an inch of his life. And that would be very bad indeed.

“I…need a drink,” she blurted. “I mean, I’ll go get us both drinks. Wine? You like wine? Or, no. You’re probably more of a beer or tequila guy?”

He smiled up at her, his beautiful blue eyes unfocused, but lighter somehow, filled with amusement. “I make you nervous.”

“No. No, that’s not true. I’m good. It’s all good, really.”

Yeah, she’d just keep on whistling in the proverbial graveyard and ignore current events. A human male in her bedroom? If Toby and her father figured out what she’d done, they might send her to the Rectory until her mating time…or worse.

“You’re nervous,” he repeated, extending a hand. “Come here, Kate.”

She froze, and he patted the spot beside him. “Forget the wine and come sit with me.”

“Did somebody say wine?” came Sunny’s chipper voice, along with a chilled bottle of white and two glasses, as she leaned in through the door, extending both in her hands. She beamed at Kate conspiratorially. “I know how you like your Chardonnay, sugar.”

And your hot human men, Sunny mouthed after that, waggling her dark eyebrows.

Kate scowled. “Dillon, um…this is my best friend, Sunny Renfroe.”

“Oh, I’m not staying,” Sunny declared musically, with a glance over her shoulder. “But it’s nice to meet you all the same.”

And then, damn it all, dear Sunny had the nerve to close the bedroom door, shutting them into the smallish room alone and unchaperoned except for the watchful presence of one Seeing Eye dog. What hope did she have of keeping her virginity intact now? Her hormones were cranking up higher than an air conditioner in a summer heat wave. Only they were making her even hotter, not chilling the mating fever at all.

After pouring them each a glass of wine, she decided music might be a welcome distraction and began sorting through a lopsided stack of CD’s as she turned on the player. Unfortunately, The Clash came booming out far too loudly. She hit stop immediately. “Train in Vain” wasn’t exactly mood music when you had a gorgeous Normal in your bedroom. Not that she’d know, apart from movies and such, because no man—vampire or human or otherwise—had ever entered her room, much less been with her behind a closed door.

“Why’d you turn that off?” he asked curiously. “I like to rock out. Clash, Stones, the Who, I’m not picky.”

“No Metallica?” She smiled, wishing he could see the teasing light in her eyes.

“Don't tell me you're a metal chick.” He snorted, pressing the wine glass against his lips.

“No, but when it comes to music I'm an equal opportunity offender.” She began searching through the CD’s again, looking for the perfect mood music.

“Which would explain the Chaka Khan and Jackson Five I heard out on the deck?”

“Yeah. And my Motorhead and Radiohead CD’s. And Portishead.” She laughed. “Way I look at it, if it’s got a head, it’s bound to be good.”

“Well I certainly am,” he said coyly.

She clamped a hand over her mouth, realizing then and there that she’d absolutely embarrassed herself. What kind of virgin went around spouting those kinds of double entendres?

“And you know what they say,” he continued. “Two heads are better than one, so you can even choose—run your hands all through my hair…or try something much lower––much, much lower.” He lifted a flirtatious eyebrow, leaning back into the large cushions on her sofa with a self-satisfied, devilish grin.

“I won’t touch that, not for a million dollars, Dillon Fox.”

“Too bad. Touching was exactly what I was hoping for. To let me see what you feel like, so to speak.”

“While stroking head A or head B? Those are my options?”

“Never said I wouldn’t be exploring the landscape myself, you know.”

He rubbed fingertips along a strong jaw that was dusted in stubble. Great, as if her hormones needed anymore bait, she’d just noticed that five o’clock shadow. Her chest actually constricted as she watched him touch his own face, and it was all she could do not to leap into his lap just as she’d been fantasizing about.

“Drink your wine,” she blurted, rubbing both cheeks in embarrassment. His dimples deepened as he smiled in her direction. His blue eyes had seemingly changed hue in here, away from the sun. A little hint of green in them, framed by sensually thick lashes that stood out when he slowly closed his eyes, seemingly not even realizing he was doing so.

She braced herself against the dresser, stealing a moment to truly look at Dillon. Maybe it wasn’t fair, staring at him when he didn’t even know it, but at least she was ogling out of intense, aroused fascination.

He laughed, husky and low, sipping from his wine and opened his eyes again. “So, Metal Chick, tell me what you’re wearing.”

“Mason didn’t provide that part of my description?”

“Sure, yeah, he said you were trussed up in a leather bustier and a thong. Right out there on the deck, no less. I like a forward kinda girl like that. I did ask where he thought your whip was and he told me it was back in here. Good thing you invited me in.”

“You are such a liar.”

He took another slow sip of wine, grinning like the very devil himself. “When you can’t see the woman you’re interested in,” he said, “your imagination gets a little frisky.”

She turned and adjusted the stereo volume and put on the Stones’ Sticky Fingers. Clicking to her favorite song, she hit play, and the first notes of “Wild Horses” began, quiet and mournful. “Frisky doesn’t begin to cover you, Dillon,” she answered, turning back to face him. And what a man to face, with his sculpted cheekbones and haunting, lovely eyes.

He shrugged, totally unaware of how she gawked at his beauty. “Once a Marine, always a Marine.”

“So that’s your story?”

“A big damned part of my tale,” he replied, frowning slightly.

The twangy Rolling Stones song made her feel like they were in some smoky backroom bar, ready to slow dance.

As if reading her mind, very carefully he stood, extending a hand with gallant decorum. “Dance with me?” he murmured, stepping around his dog Lulu and boldly into his own darkness. She was thankful she’d scooped up all the obstacles that had been on her floor.

She moved toward him, feeling unsteady. “Why…do you want me to dance with you?” Do you know my mind, my thoughts?

“Just come here,” he said, and she took hold of his hand. He easily spun her into his embrace. “It’s been too long since I held a gorgeous woman up close. Too long since I had a good slow dance.”

He stepped back abruptly. “You’re wet,” he said, and only then did she remember her ruined dress.

She tugged on the front, fanning it outward to air it. “Oh, yeah, that’s from the dog and cat fight moment. Spilled my drink.”

He nodded. “Take it off.”

“Excuse me?” She stammered, blushing furiously.

He only smiled some more, perfectly assured, obviously very aware of just how handsome he was. “You can change in front of me. I don’t care.” He shrugged. “It’s not like I can see anyway.”

She wrapped arms about herself protectively. “But that feels kinda…naughty.”

He laughed, running his fingertips along her shoulder until he found the strap of her dress. “I have some experience in that department.” He slid his fingers underneath the thin band of material, stroking her bare skin with the rough pads of his fingertips, caressing her. Then dislodged the strap so it fell down along her upper arm. “Besides, I like naughty,” he added softly.

She didn’t dare even try and answer, not with the honey-rich way he’d whispered the last words. So he added, “Marine, remember?”

She took hold of his hand again, moving much closer. She wasn’t honestly about to change clothes in front of a man, especially not one who was this seductive, even if he couldn’t see her. “Is that how you lost your sight? In the war?”

He buried his face against the top of her head, slowly swaying her even nearer, but didn’t answer. The Stones crooned, “I have my freedom, but I don’t have much time….”

After a long moment, he finally answered. “Here’s to being one of the guys who made it home,” he said, “and into your bedroom, Kate.”

She opened her mouth, wanting to know more about what had happened, but there had been obvious pain and regret in the words. So instead, she leaned her cheek against his shoulder and focused on the music, on feeling it all through her body, and on Dillon being so warm and close. His chest was firm, wonderfully hard and strong against her face. He was tall, had at least half a foot on her, so they fit together in that way men and women had always been meant to do. Like a puzzle, like a missing piece finding its place and locking in tight.

She slid both hands along his lower back, relishing the muscular strength, how his soft T-shirt slid over the flesh as she stroked him. “Just so you know,” she whispered, “I’ve never had anyone else back here. So you making it into my bedroom was a pretty big feat.”

He froze, clasping both of her shoulders. He leaned down, almost as if he thought he could look into her eyes. “Are you fucking kidding me?” he hissed. “Why the hell not?" There was a warrior’s gleam in his eyes, like he was ready to go kick somebody’s ass on her behalf.

“What? You wanna go beat somebody up about it? Defend my honor?” she tried laughing it off, but tears suddenly burned in her eyes. She’d been forced to lead a life that no Normal woman ever would. Kept on the shelf, held there like a porcelain vase that belonged to some unknown master. Preserved and unused, dusty from lack of true care.

He shook his head. “I just want to know what kind of losers live in this town of yours. Are you for real? No guy’s ever been in your bedroom? Any bedroom of yours?”

She stared at the carpeted floor, chewing on her lip. The tears welled much stronger. “I…I’m a virgin,” she admitted, feeling ashamed and pathetic. “I just…I’m not––”

“Shh,” he said, and she had the eerie sense that he knew she was crying. “I’m here now. That’s all that matters.” Slowly he sat back down on the settee, reached for his glass of wine where it rested on the end table and murmured, “Now undress for me.”

CHAPTER FOUR

“I…I can’t do that, Dillon.” Kate was sputtering, a charming sound somewhere between gasping and strangling. “I can’t…can’t…no way! I’m not disrobing with you sitting there sipping wine like we’re at some bistro or something.”

He folded arms over his chest. “Seems like a perfectly good idea to me. More than good, matter of fact.”

“I don’t even know you! Hello? Reality alert, Marine.”

“Reality alert, beautiful. I can’t see for shit. Knock yourself out, drop trou, do a little pirouette. Show me the twins. Do whatever you want, and I will still be sitting here in the dark.”

“Why’s it so important to you?” She sounded completely suspicious, and he could hardly blame her. He wanted her. Badly. Enough that he’d use his wiles and charms to lure her right across that carpeted floor and onto her bed and between those sheets. But he wanted to make her feel beautiful first; in fact, that was how he wanted to accomplish his mission. It was a win-win scenario: he could make love to a gorgeous woman, and by doing so, he’d probably get the intel he was after. They could murmur sweet nothings until he learned the truth. And when she wasn’t in the room, he could find that ring. Or at least grope around, try and do his best, and see what he turned up.

But somehow the thought of even trying to search for it felt wrong now, like a betrayal—he no longer felt comfortable about the mission. She’d never asked any man into her bedroom before, so how could he set out to destroy her when she trusted him? He couldn’t. The search for her mating ring was off the table, it had to be. He’d learn what he could from her personally, but he wouldn’t snoop or pry into her private things.

Was she a vampire? Quite probably, given the strange, alluring scent that had filled the room like the clouds of incense in some ancient temple. He felt a little drunk, too—and that definitely wasn’t the wine speaking to him. It was all her. So hell, yeah, she was probably something so totally other, he wouldn’t know what to do if he did get her in that bed. But deep down, on the gut instinct level—which was where he’d operated from during all his years in the Corps—he knew she was good. And safe. Well, maybe not to his heart, but that was another story entirely.

“Are you going to answer me, Dillon?” He heard her stamp a bare foot against the carpet. And then she did it again, even harder, jarring the room slightly. Maybe she’d repeated the gesture just to be sure he could tell she’d made it in the first place.

He grinned, raking a hand across his forehead. Impatient, strong women. His total thing. Forget about vampires. If anyone was a sucker around here, it was him, and for an independent-minded female just like Kate Rabineau.

“It’s important because,” he began slowly, “I can’t see you. And so I desperately—and, Kate, darling, I really do mean desperately…want to feel you. All of you.”

“You had me at desperately,” she said, her voice light, excited. Her breathlessness obvious.

He kicked off his flip flops, feeling the soft carpet between his toes. “How do you feel about urgently?” he purred with a wicked grin. “Hungrily? Eagerly? Wickedly?”

“I’m a word girl. I sell books for a living,” she replied. “I mean, we own a bookstore.”

“I like descriptive words, but I like real world action a helluva a lot more.” He patted the spot beside him on the sofa. “Now get your sweet little ass over here beside me, Kate. Now.”

She slid out of her sundress before taking so much as a step toward him. It did feel naughty, but in a powerful, intoxicating way. She was defying her family, the will of her own people. Every law and edict that existed among their tribe said she could not choose a man on her own and that her virginity was not her gift to give. But at the moment, she’d passed some realm of rational thought. Her body and hormones and mating urges had declared another fate entirely, one that her family would not decide on her behalf.

Dillon Fox was hers. She’d dreamed of him for at least a year, seen the world through the darkness he lived in, known his frustrations, his struggles, his strength. Standing with the soft cotton fabric pooled about her ankles, she studied him. He cocked his head sideways slightly, listening.

“Are you still dressed?” he asked, absently stroking his dog who nuzzled at his bare feet.

“Did you lose your sight about a year ago?” she responded instead, already knowing the answer.

“Yeah, that’s right. How’d you know?”

“When I said I don’t know you? That wasn’t totally true…because I sorta do.”

She took several steps closer, standing in front of him in nothing but her satin lace panties. He reached out toward her, his hand brushing against her flat abdomen. His eyes widened slightly, and then with languid slowness, he stroked her belly, feeling the taut muscle, before trailing lower until he discovered the edge of her underwear. The only sound between them was that of their breathing, the rush of blood in her ears.

“How do you know me?” he whispered, pressing his lips against her belly and kissing slowly, licking the bare flesh. “God, you taste as good as you smell. You’re magic, aren’t you?”

He nuzzled his bristling cheek against her abdomen, rubbing it back and forth as she dug her fingertips into his short hair, stroking it, loving how shockingly soft it was beneath her hands.

“Dreams,” she moaned as he slid a hand about her buttocks, squeezing. “I know you…I’ve dreamed about you for a year.”

He froze, while still holding her close. “Did you recognize me?”

“I recognized your scent. The dreams were always black and dark. I felt afraid but…I wanted something so very much. I just never knew it was you, Dillon. So, no, I don’t know you…but at the same time I know you very well. It’s crazy.”

“I dreamed about you, too,” he admitted hoarsely, sliding his hands about her waist, a wondrous expression on his face. “I knew it when I met you. The aroma…. I couldn’t see you in the dreams. I was blind. That’s not usually how it is for me. But I felt you and sensed you…. I was so lonely after I lost my eyesight, I just thought––shit––that it was because of what I was going through. Until we got all the way in here, into your room. That’s when I knew for sure that something really intense was going on all along.”

“You were lonely?” she asked, stroking his hair tenderly. Her heart instantly clenched as she imagined what it must’ve been like for him, being injured, fighting to recover.

“It was hard for a while,” he admitted, pulling her hand to his lips. Slowly he kissed her knuckles, then rotated her palm to his mouth and kissed the center. “You know, I woke up in Maryland with the lights out. Wasn’t sure where I was, didn’t remember what happened…. I went through some terror then that was a lot worse than anything I ever experienced over in Iraq.” He grew pensive, still holding her hand, yet saying nothing more.

She’d never wanted to be so strong and solid for anyone before in her life. Sliding to her knees before him, cupping his face in both her palms, she repeated his earlier words. “Shh,” she whispered soothingly, brushing her lips over his. “I’m here now.”

A full, wide smile spread across his face, and then he laughed. “Does that mean I can take off my clothes now, too?”

Without a word, she reached for the hem of his T-shirt and began dragging it over his head. “Here’s your answer, tough guy.”

When he tossed the shirt aside and she saw his chiseled torso and abdomen, she began giggling in a giddy fit of lust and hormones and arousal. “Talk about beefcake. Holy cats, that’s one gorgeous body you got there, Dillon Fox.”

“Come sit on my lap. I want to see you, too,” he urged her, reaching outward with both hands. Slowly she straddled him on the settee, settling gingerly atop his thighs. Right up close and personal. There was a long scar across his right pec, and a bulldog tattoo on that upper arm. He possessed the kind of rare grace and strength that came only from using one’s body as a weapon, and she had no doubt that the same grace and strength were going to be downright overwhelming once he got her in bed.

All at once, the mating instinct hit DEFCON Five and she began shaking slightly, clutching his shoulders. He didn’t understand, of course, and held her about the waist. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he promised earnestly, stroking her hair.

“That’s not it. It’s––You’re even more beautiful than I thought.”

He liked that one, his high cheekbones flushing slightly. That heat, so visible in his features—and knowing she’d put it there—caused her mating scent to absolutely pour out between them, to roll like thunder over the whole room––a fact that did not go unnoticed by her soon-to-be lover.

“Okay, fess up about this goddamned gorgeous smell of yours,” he said, staring quizzically into the space beside her. “What’s your personal Chanel Number Five all about, huh? And what’s with the dreams we’ve been having about each other?”

A part of her felt guilty; if they were going to make love, she needed to explain the facts of vampire life and nature to him. Stat. But her instincts were already taking over, compelling her to claim him…to taste him, too. And to share her own blood with him.

“We––Dillon, we’ve got to stop,” she said, beginning to climb off his lap. But he’d have none of that, and secured her against him with a viselike grip.

“Not stopping this love boat, baby. Explain about the aroma.”

She shook her head. “You won’t like it.” Understatement. Huge one. But his next words were a total game change, and she’d have sworn her heart stopped beating for a full second.

“Is it because you’re a vampire?” he asked, reaching fingertips to touch her cheek. “Is it something y’all do?”

“I’m a vampire?” she repeated numbly. “You’re saying I’m a vampire?” Maybe she could dodge this bullet. Still. He shifted slightly beneath her and she felt a hard bulge in the front of his pants, one that revealed just how aroused he was, too. No way could she fight her mating nature now. She was too on the brink in terms of timing and he was the one. She knew it in her heart. The dreams had been preparing her for him, so she’d recognize him when he arrived.

“You are a vampire. I know it. You’re not like any human woman I’ve ever been around.”

“Mason told you,” she said flatly, remembering for the first time in quite a few minutes that Dillon knew her old nemesis. She squirmed on his lap, wanting to get away, feeling a little angry. “Was it a set up? You coming on to me? Wanting to come back here in my room?” She rose up on Dillon’s lap, but he tugged her back atop him, wrapping a strong forearm around her waist.

“You’re the one who brought me to your room,” he said, securing her against his chest.

“And, darling, you’re not going anywhere. I think you’re mine now.”

“Yours?” she repeated, feeling dizzy and unsettled.

“I’ve been dreaming about you for a year. You’ve been dreaming about me. That’s got to be part of this whole vamp gig,” he said. He didn’t sound threatening at all. Just very confident and curious and full-on determined.

“Yes, Dillon. I’m a vampire,” she whispered. “Mason was right. Did he send you here to hurt me? To hunt us?”

“He wanted to confirm his suspicions about what you are. Period,” Dillon answered bluntly.

“Is that the only reason you came inside and into my room?”

He shook his head vigorously. “No, nothing like that. Why am I here with you, Kate? Because I couldn’t have gone anywhere else, not from the moment I met you.”

She sighed into him, wrapping both arms about his neck. “Oh my God. What are we going to do about this? You’re a Normal. I’m a vampire. Criminy. What to do? What to do?”

“Make love. That’s what to do,” he said, sliding his hands along her back and nuzzling his face against her neck. “Hell, yeah. That’s a no-brainer right there, Kate.”

“I can’t stop this,” she explained, patting her chest. “The way my natural instincts have taken over, the way they’re—”

“Making the world smell perfect and sexy?” he said, laughing, still caressing her face.

“And I have a pretty good idea why that is. It’s because you’re a vampire and because you like me. And you want me. A whole fucking lot. So that’s why your body responds with this perfume thing, right?”

She buried her face against his shoulder, cringing in embarrassment. Not only did he know she was a vampire, which did solve the problem of a big ass confession. But he seemed to have realized she was marking him with her mating scent.

“Why are you hiding against me?” he asked, trying to cup her jaw. “Was I wrong? Cause if I was, then you probably think I’m the biggest jackass in the universe, talking about vampires’ needs and—”

“You weren’t wrong,” she admitted, still feeling mortified. Now he knew she was exuding her hormones and scents because of how sexed up she was for him. It was an embarrassment worse than dropping your tray in the school cafeteria. Worse than waking up naked on the beach after partying too hard the night before. Worse than telling her father and brother that she had mated with a Normal. But she’d cross that bridge when she got to it.

“So are you gonna kill me? Or bite me?” he asked curiously, seeming entirely unafraid.

“Cause I’m thinking the answer’s no to both of those. Although the thought of your hot mouth on certain of my body parts is an extremely happy thought. So long as you don’t drain me dry.”

“I’d never hurt you, Dillon. We don’t hurt anyone. We don’t drink from Normals or drain them or kill them. We only feed among each other…with our…with….” She just couldn’t bring herself to say it, and buried her face against his shoulder out of pure shame.

“With your what?” he prompted, cupping her hips. “Tell me all of it.”

“From our mates,” she whispered, blushing furiously. “It’s the only time we feed.”

“So why do I want you to drink from me? It’s crazy. I never believed vampires were real before today, and suddenly, I’m burning with need for you.” He sank back into the sofa and sighed, arms still wrapped about her waist. “It must be because we’re supposed to be together. Just like with the dreams. Is that it? Part of the whole hoodoo vampire love dance?”

She wasn’t prepared to answer his questions, not until she understood his true intentions.

“So Mason put you up to this?” she asked. “To find out our secrets, learn about our society?”

“He wanted to know if you feed from humans.” Dillon’s bluntness and honesty instantly put her at ease. He didn’t hedge, didn’t dodge, just put it all on the line. “He wanted me to find your mating ring. But gauging by your reaction to me…you’re still unmated.”

She wouldn’t answer that one, either. Not yet. Dillon’s lovely blue eyes grew wide and agitated. “Tell me you’re not mated,” he murmured in an oddly plaintive tone. “Tell me…you can be mine.”

“Why were you willing to try and expose me? You agreed to work with Mason or something like that?”

He stared into space for a long moment, eyes unfocused as always, but a pained expression filling the blue depths of his gaze. “No one had needed me for a year, Kate. After…well, it’s hard to explain what it’s like to have a brain injury. The way it changed me. It was way more than just being blinded. I live with––Well, there’s chronic pain and memory issues. I’m not all pretty.”

“Well….” She smiled and touched his cheek tenderly. “I’d have to disagree on that one.”

He smiled faintly then grew somber again. “It’s like…I’ve been living as damaged goods. No longer a Gunnery Sergeant, no longer a Marine…. My injury put me on the shelf, you know?”

Oh, she knew. It was exactly how she felt about her own life, the way her family had held her in reserve, her virginity a powerful bargaining chip they were simply waiting to play—with or without her consent.

“I guess,” he said quietly, “I’ve known all along that I’m used and ruined goods.”

“That’s not true,” she promised him, her heart already softening against the fear and anger that had spiked between them.

“And then Mace wanted my help….” he trailed off.

As much as she yearned to reassure him, she forced herself to ignore the almost desperate tone of his voice. “And then Mason brought you here, to me,” she pressed. “Why you?”

“Because he thought you’d find me attractive,” he said evenly.

“And I did…I do.” She felt her eyes burn. The whole thing had been a setup? She pressed both hands to her temples, trying to think clearly. “Are you––Were you just making it up? All that stuff about how beautiful I am?”

“Kate!” he said, then silenced all her fears with a burning, branding kiss on the lips, one that became open and deep. Deep enough that she knew he felt the tips of her small fangs prick his tongue, and then she had the tangy taste of his blood in her mouth, mixing together with their tongues. With the heat.

Gasping, she broke the kiss, and he stared in her direction, a little glassy eyed, trembling slightly. “Good fucking grief. I’m in trouble here, aren’t I?”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve never been kissed like that. Not by any woman, anywhere. You’re mine. That’s what this is all about, isn’t it?”

She closed her eyes, pressing her forehead against his, trying to find the right words. It wasn’t an easy thing to explain. “Dillon, when we make love? We’ll become mates. That’s what will happen. It won’t be something that can be turned back because, well, it’s a supernatural connection. The dreams? They’re to point us to each other, to prepare us. That’s how vampires find their mates, by dreams just like we’ve been sharing.

“What are you saying?”

“Nature has taken over between us. The dreams, the lust, the scent marking. It’s coming from both of us now, demanding that we consummate, that we join our bodies and souls.”

“And I’ll be a vampire, too?” he asked, blue eyes wide and amazed. But not afraid. He was a warrior through and through. No fear, not ever, it seemed.

She smiled. “No, you’ll always be human.”

“Okay,” he said, bobbing his head. “Okay, it’s nuts, but I’m in. I may roll over and tell you to explain this all again in the morning. To tell me I wasn’t drugged. But, yeah, Kate. I want you. I want this. And I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I want to be your mate. I want the whole enchilada, fangs, blood, babe, sex, life together.” He rubbed a hand across his eyes. “Shit. I think I might actually be drugged.”

She kissed him full on the mouth, slow and tenderly. “You’re perfectly sober.”

“Then I’m high on you. I’m high on Kate Rabineau.”

“Watch out,” she said, reaching down and unfastening the button of his shorts. “Because I’m going to be addicting from the very first taste.”

He froze. “Wait, I thought you just said I won’t be turned.”

“You won’t. But you’ll still drink my blood. You won’t be able to not drink it, as a matter of fact.”

“Will it taste like you smell? Have the same…amazingness?” he asked, his large blue eyes filled with wonder and desire.

“Pretty much.”

He grinned big as a life, and began unzipping his shorts. “Oorah, baby. Oorah. Let’s get this party started.”

CHAPTER FIVE

“I feel like a mail order bride.” Dillon laughed, stripping out of his boxers. All naked, ready to roll. “Like you got me from Russia, and I don’t know you, but now we’re gonna clench the deal big time.”

He heard the sheets rustle and the bedsprings creak, and knew that Kate was moving over, making room for him.

“I would be the bride, Dillon. Not you.”

“Nah, I like being the bride. It’s naughtier.”

“You like the word naughty, that’s what you like.”

“See? Just one of about ten million things you’ll get to learn about me.” He sat down on the bed, feeling his way with both hands, and scooted closer to her. “Just think of all the mysteries you’re going to unravel. Of course, you might hate me after a week. What then? Can you return me?”

“I won’t hate you, and I’d never break our mating bond.”

“Can that even be done?” he asked, wildly curious. The entire situation was surreal, enthralling. He felt more alive than he ever had in his life, even more than he did in the moment when the blast had rocked the rooftop in Iraq. The moment seemed slowed down like that one, though, hyper-real in some very intense way.

“In rare cases, yes, our bonds can be broken. But I know I’d never want to ‘return’ you. You’re everything I’ve literally dreamed about. More. You’re meant to be mine, I know it, naughty and all.”

She slid both arms about his neck, drawing him flush against her own soft, warm body. The sensations that swept over him were delicious––the sweet nectar of her skin, her curves pressed up against him. So soft, so eager, with her lush hips moving slightly, urging him to touch her.

He slid a cautious hand along her thigh, savoring the smooth, silky skin beneath his palm. “Last time I did this was nearly a year ago,” he told her quietly. “I was still doing therapy at the Naval hospital. Anyway, I managed to poke the woman in the eye while trying to touch her hair. Really suave stuff. Hope you’ll fare better.”

“It’s been a year?” she asked, surprise obvious in her tone. “I figured you’d have a girl in every port.”

“Marine, not Navy, remember?” He tried to make light of the topic, didn’t want her to hear the pain in his voice. When she’d dumped him, Lindy had really done a number on his heart—and on his confidence and ego. He’d been hounded by self-consciousness ever since, not quite sure of himself around women like he’d always been before. Until now. Until Kate. Being with her was like having come home after wandering in the desert for a very long time.

“Yes, I know you weren’t a sailor, silly. Stop with the topic dodging. Why so long?”

He drew her up against him, sliding a leg between her thighs. He was hard and ready, but it was important that Kate know about Lindy, how she’d hurt him. “I…had a girlfriend, you know, when this happened.” He pointed to his eyes and then continued, “Hadn’t seen her in almost a year. My rotation was almost over when I was hit. Anyway…we tried at first, when I was in Maryland. She came to visit, spent some time. I just wasn’t in a great place yet. So, yeah, we made love and it was just a groping, awkward mess. She broke up with me the next day.”

Kate pulled his head close, kissing him. “That bitch. I should go drink her blood.” Then she laughed. “But don’t worry, I won’t. I’m just going to love you with all my heart, okay?”

He swallowed hard. His eyes burned with sudden, unexpected tears. “Okay,” he managed after a moment, still holding Kate. Not even thinking about sex, just for a minute.

When he finally found his voice again, he nuzzled her, whispering in her ear. “So how about getting down and dirty now, huh, Katie?”

She loved the feel of him between her thighs, the way his broad shoulders sheltered her beneath him, the strength of him. Yet he was gentle, too, shockingly so as he pressed against her opening. Tentative at first, just the slightest pressure. “I wish this wouldn’t hurt,” he told her, kissing her forehead. “It will, but it won’t last, sweetheart.”

She smiled up at him, even though he couldn’t see. She was ready, primed and slicked and driven to take him deep inside of her. “I’m told vampires don’t feel the pain the same way Normal women do. Just go for it.”

“Are you sure?” He asked, frowning slightly. “I don’t want to be too rough.”

“I always prefer to get bad things over with,” she reassured him, taking hold of his hips.

“Come on, I want you, baby. I want you now.”

He nodded, capturing her mouth with a deep kiss and all at once she felt a sharp spike of pain, then he was inside of her. Her body stretched to accommodate him, clenching, needing him. Her instincts took over after that, no pain at all. She cried out, arching into the pillows, lifting her hips toward him. He began a rhythm then, gentle at first, but her own aggressive hunger quickly set him in motion, the two of them rocking and pulling and moving together.

Sweat slicked his chest and abdomen, causing them to slide together. The sensations were tightening within her, making her want even more of him, to take him even deeper inside her. Was it like this for a Normal virgin? She doubted it. Her mating demands were so intense, it was impossible not to yield to them, to follow the drive.

And she was driven, absolutely compelled, to taste of him. Right then, no waiting. She pressed a slow sweet kiss to his neck, suckling at first, licking. In a way, he was a virgin of sorts himself, and she knew she should prepare him. “Dillon,” she whispered, “this hurts the first time, too. But only for a moment.”

“This?” he panted, eyes closed, lost in their coupling.

“When I drink…. here.” She nibbled his pulse point, feeling her fangs elongate slightly. She nicked him intentionally, to prepare him. “I’m going to mark you here. It’ll only last a moment and will heal over immediately.”

“Do it,” he groaned, rotating his head to give her free access. “I’m ready. Just like you were.”

Striking fast and hungrily, she latched on, suckling and moaning as his warm, coppery essence filled her mouth. It was intoxicating. Beautiful as he was. And she came on the spot, rising up and groaning as Dillon answered in kind. He shuddered inside of her, crying out, pressing her face closer against his neck. “More,” he grunted, riding out the release. “Take more.”

She’d heard that the act of blood sharing was erotic and arousing. Dillon’s obvious pleasure definitely confirmed those rumors. She sucked harder and he groaned atop her, rubbing his thumb along her own neck, feeling the vein. Vampires rubbed veins out of an itch and burn to taste their mate’s blood, and although she would have to help him drink from her, the compulsion was a confirmation of their mating.

With a gasp she released her hold on him, and turned her wrist, sinking her fangs into the vein to open it. “Take me,” she moaned, lifting her wrist to his eager mouth. “Drink, Dillon,” she encouraged, and with a visible swallow, he bent his head low and latched on. The pain spiked worse than when he’d entered her moments earlier, but was washed away in an explosion of lights behind her closed eyes. Had Dillon experienced that, too––seen these strange stars just from the impact of sharing blood?

He moaned against her palm, thrusting his hands all through her hair, and she felt his cock stir against her again. She’d read and heard enough to know that Normals didn’t usually get hard again so quickly, and his stiffening erection was yet more evidence that they were now mated.

At last, he began to slowly disengage his mouth from her vein, clearly having a hard time making the break. But he did, and with a satisfied, deep sigh, lay his head against her shoulder for a moment. His breathing was heavy, labored, but his deep satiation was more than obvious.

“Okay. It’s official. I know I’m gonna fall in love with you, too,” he said, his eyes drifting shut.

Dillon woke from a dreamy, satisfied nap with the pressure of cold steel against his jugular. “Who the fuck are you?” a man with a thick Southern accent demanded. “And why are you in my sister’s bed?”

Uh, oh. Dillon moved cautiously, indicating the blade. “Drop this and I’ll tell you everything.”

The knife remained pressed hard against Dillon’s throat; beyond the bedroom, the thumping sounds of dance music indicated that the party still raged. There had to be a way out of this situation, a rational way to explain to Kate’s brother that they were kin now. No knife fights between family members. Just not cool.

“Tell me what you did to my sister,” the guy demanded.

Dillon countered. “Move. The. Blade,” he insisted, smelling bourbon on the brother’s breath as he hovered over Dillon. “Then we talk.”

Why wouldn’t Kate wake up? Was she still beside him? Dillon couldn’t be sure, but he moved his left leg slightly, trying to feel for her with his toes.

Then suddenly the blade was gone, but only for a second—that chilly, sharp object was now pressed against Dillon’s balls. Beside the bed, Dillon could hear Lulu starting to growl. Good doggie. Protect your master’s prize jewels.

Kate’s brother continued in a seething voice. “I’m of a mind to make sure you never touch Kate again.” The blade pressed cold and hard against Dillon’s groin, the point well made.

Beside Dillon there was a rustling sound as Kate moved groggily beneath the sheets. And then she sat up with a gasp and a cry. “Toby! Move that knife right now!”

“Did this guy fuck you? Or, no…more than that, wasn’t it? I can tell. You mated, didn’t you? That’s what went on. You’re both naked…. Oh, Katie.”

“Nice to meet you, too, Toby,” Dillon said sarcastically.

“He’s mine,” Kate said proudly. “Yes. We mated.”

Toby’s voice reached new decibels. “Have you lost your ever lovin’ mind? Daddy’s gonna be pissed as hell. What were you thinking?”

“I love him,” Kate announced, strength and pride in her voice. “Now put the knife away, Toby.”

Dillon released a tight breath when the pressure was removed from his balls. He slid backward in the bed, feeling for Kate and pulling on the covers so neither of them was exposed.

“This is my older brother, Toby,” Kate whispered, leaning against him slightly.

Dillon nodded. “Got that one already, cupcake.”

“Why’s there a dog in this room? Is that his?” Toby asked, annoyed as ever.

“Toby, let us get dressed and we’ll come talk to you out in the living room,” Kate said.

“We got about sixty people still here, Katie. We ain’t talking about anything out there. The party is mid-swing.”

Lulu growled again, sounding even more agitated. “Uh, Toby,” Dillon suggested. “You better bring it down a few notches or Lulu’s gonna go for your leg. Just a guess, can’t say for sure.”

“Why the hell did you bring a dog to the party?” Toby demanded in an exasperated tone.

Kate just started to giggle beside him and said in a stage whisper, “You’re going to feel like a real shit in about ten seconds, brother of mine.”

“For what?” Toby said, and it sounded like he slapped his thighs.

Kate nestled up against Dillon’s side. “Because Dillon’s blind, Toby. That’s his guide dog.”

“Shit.” Toby cursed some more. “Sorry, dude.”

Kate took hold of Dillon’s hand. “That’s not all.”

“There’s more?” Dillon and Toby asked, almost in perfect union.

Kate must have bobbed her head, because the motion gave the mattress a slight shaking vibration. “Yep. See, I didn’t even get to tell Dillon this part. But…the reason Daddy’s not gonna have my head on a platter—”

“Or mine,” Dillon interjected.

“Or anyone’s…is because Dillon is a war hero, Toby. An Iraq war veteran.”

“I don’t get it,” Dillon blurted. “Why would that make a difference to a vampire clan?”

Toby blew out a whistle. “Damn, girl. Daddy’s still gonna be pissed, though. You didn’t preserve the bloodline, and that won’t be forgotten overnight.”

“Daddy will accept him, Toby,” Kate said in a quiet, intense voice. “And he will honor Dillon, you know it. Even if it takes time.”

“A Get Out of Jail Free card for you, huh?” Toby agreed with a reluctant sounding sigh.

“Yep, I see your point. Well played, Katie.”

“I still don’t get it,” Dillon said. He got impatient whenever anyone ignored him in a conversation because it made him feel not just blind, but invisible. “Why should my service record make any difference to your father or family?”

A knock came on the door, then there was a male voice. “Toby, man. We need to go on a beer run.”

“I’m going to let you explain the rest to your new mate,” Toby said, then muttered, “Still can’t believe it. Cannot believe it.” His voice trailed away as he left the room.

“Explain what to me?” Dillon asked.

Kate took his hand in her smaller one, threading their fingers together. “See, Dillon, in our society, warriors are the most revered of all individuals. Even Normal warriors who defend our country. So my father? He’d have killed anyone else, really. But he won’t be able to do anything other than approve this mating. I realized it earlier. When we were about to make love.”

For a moment, Dillon relaxed, leaning back against the headboard. But then he sat up with a jolt, his heart beating crazily in his chest. “We still got a big problem, though.”

“What?” she asked.

“Mason. I gotta sell him on you. That you’re not Night of the Living Dead come to life. That you’re mine. And good.”

Kate groaned and rolled up against him. “I don’t like Mason.”

“You should.”

“Oh, and why’s that? He’s like the total bane of my existence,” she said.

“Because he’s one of my best friends. And I can make him understand about you.”

Kate slid her hands over both his thighs, cuddling close. “You really think?” Her tone was undeniably vulnerable.

“Hell, yeah. I can make Mace get it. Get you. We’re brothers in arms, and trust me, he will understand.”

Kate led Dillon out onto the deck, and wondered if everyone there could tell they’d been making love. Her face felt a little burned from his beard stubble, and Dillon had this kind of blissed-out-and-happy expression on his face. It was adorable, and as soon as they could dispense with Mason, she was planning to drag him right back into bed.

Speaking of that devil, she spotted Mason walking up the side steps to the deck. His gaze was on Dillon, and she wondered if Mason saw the same sparkle in Dillon’s unfocused eyes that she did. If Mason knew him well enough to sense a major change in his old friend.

Mason’s own expression changed, became quizzical. And then he glanced at Kate, still while making his way toward the deck railing where they were both leaning. He paused for a moment, just standing in the crowd, looking back and forth between them both. And then his green eyes grew wide and shocked.

She leaned closer against Dillon. “Your friend’s here.”

Dillon nodded. “Let me handle this one.”

“Actually, lover man, I think it’s already been handled,” she laughed, bracing herself for whatever Mason was about to say. He stood in front of them both, speechless, it seemed. He started shaking his head, and managed a sharp glare in her direction, then said, “Okay, Dillon, let’s spring your ass from this joint.”

“Actually? I plan to stay,” Dillon said and unfolded his cane. “I’m set. Got Lulu, got my cane…got Kate.”

“You’ve got Kate?” Mason repeated numbly. “What does that mean?”

She laughed, nudging Dillon in the side. “Is that like ‘Got milk’?”

Mason scowled. “Just how drunk are you both?”

Dillon stood up taller, no longer leaning against the railing. He stepped forward a couple of tentative steps, not using his cane, and then reached out for Mason’s shoulder, clasping it. Pulling Mason into an embrace, Kate saw Dillon whisper something in his ear, words she couldn’t hear. For a long moment Mason just gaped back at Dillon, then slowly cut his eyes in her direction. A smile filled his face, and he nodded, as if Mason and Kate had just shared a powerful secret all their own.

He lifted two fingers to his forehead and saluted her, still grinning. “You could’ve told me, you know. Long ago.”

She shrugged. “Told you what?”

“That I didn’t need to hunt you. I mean, I’ll still have to convince Jamie, but…ah damn it.” Mason strode toward her, and with a quick brush of his lips, he kissed her on the cheek. “Thanks for putting the light back in his eyes. And thanks for not being lethal or dangerous so that I can wish you two the best.”

And, then, just like that, Mason turned and stepped into the party crowd without another word or allowing her to respond.

Dillon sidled back against the railing, reaching for his beer. Taking a long swill, he seemed perfectly content to just let Mason go—without explaining anything to her.

“What did you tell him?” Kate asked in disbelief. “Mason isn’t going to hunt me, isn’t going to have a problem with us? I don’t get it.”

“I told Mason that you’re a good woman and that I’m going to fall in love with you, and that I’m the only person you will ever drink from. Because I’d kill any man who even so much as thought about letting you drink from him. Or woman.”

“You actually just said all that? To Mason Angel?”

Dillon bobbed his head. “Heck yeah, I did. Oh, and that we’re mated. I told him that, too. Just kind of laid it out there. Balls to the wall, baby.”

“So you don’t think he’ll try and kill me or anything?”

“I told him the only thing you were a danger to was––” Dillon shook his head, grinning.

“Nah, not ready to tell you that.”

Kate swatted the top of his head. “Fess up.”

“Well, that the only thing you were a danger to…was my heart. Not to anyone else.”

She flung herself into his arms. “But, see? You can poke me in the eye anytime, and I won’t leave.”

“I have a better idea, and although it involves poking, it’s way more pleasurable,” Dillon promised, nibbling on her ear. “Back to your room?”

“And I’ll bring the wine and Chaka Khan CD’s?”

Dillon laughed, working his mouth lower along her neck and then murmured, “You had me at Chaka Khan.”

Kate giggled, holding him even closer. “You had me at poking.”

EPILOGUE

The Breakfast Club was bustling with early morning patrons, several of whom kept taking too much interest in Lulu. It wasn’t that Dillon minded people petting his dog; she was sweet-tempered and had changed his life from the moment he’d gotten her. But the attention was as distracting to Lulu as Kate’s cats had been. Plus, it was usually women who came over, and he could sense Kate’s possessive streak starting to kick in again as yet another female finally left the table.

“All right, I love Lulu, but she’s a babe magnet. And that’s a problem for me because you’re mine.”

He reached along the table and found her hand, squeezing it. “Four months in and you’re still jealous. I like it!”

She flicked the back of his palm. “Four months in and my mail order bride has an even bigger ego. Me loving you has obviously unleashed an arrogant streak for you.”

He grinned, trailing his fingertips along the table until he located the plate of bacon he’d ordered, then poked a piece in his mouth. “Just one of those five or ten million things you found out about after signing on for this tour. Or that you will.”

“I love you, Dillon,” she said, her tone unexpectedly serious. “I’m so glad I took the leap and didn’t worry or fear.”

He reached for her again, pressing the back of her hand to his mouth. “I love you, too, Kate. You saved me. Don’t ever forget that.”

“What do you mean?”

“I may be cocky now, but I was so lost when you found me. You’ve healed all the crap that was going on in my head, just by being with me, living with me. Every day brings something new, and that’s given me purpose like I just didn’t have before you.”

“Does that mean you might propose soon?” She laughed, and suddenly her arms were about his neck and she was holding him close. “Or is that my job in this instance?”

“Marry me?” he asked, not even hesitating. Balls to the wall, like always. Why should marrying his mate be any different?

Kate said nothing, just kept her arms tight about his neck. “Katie?” he asked uncertainly, and only then did he feel the dampness of her tears. “Why are you crying, babe?”

“Because you asked me.”

“Did you think I wouldn’t?”

She sniffled, pressing her face against his. “No, it’s just that I wanted you to so much. To be like a Normal and have a wedding on the beach.”

He leaned close, whispering in her ear. “You are a Normal,” he said, “at least in the ways that count. But it just so happens you’re also a vampire. And that’s cool because it means we get to have hot, randy, wall-bumping, vampy sex. Doesn’t get any better than that.”

And it didn’t. Or any better than sitting in a breakfast café, eating pancakes with the woman you loved, your faithful dog beside you. Happy. Happy and alive.

No, it didn’t get any better than that, not by a long shot.

About the Author

Deidre Knight is a literary agent, mom, wife, novelist, and Southern woman, and proud to answer to all of those titles. After selling hundreds of romance and women’s fiction novels for her clients, she’s delighted to bring her tales of otherworldly adventure to someone other than her own family. She lives in Madison, Georgia. Please visit Deidre on the Web at www.DeidreKnight.com or join her at www.GodsofMidnight.com.