Blood of the Maple
By Dana Marie Bell

A seduction-gone-wrong leaves vampire Parker Hollis with a new vegetarian lifestyle and on the run from a vengeful witch. Moving to small-town Maggie’s Grove, Parker meets a redheaded dryad with green, leafy blood that draws him in a way he hasn’t experienced in decades. His new neighbor smells divine, and it isn’t long before craving gives in to need.

In a unique community of supernaturals, tree-loving outcast Amara Schwedler has never quite fit in. She’s scarred by a traumatic incident and feared by the local townsfolk. She’s convinced Parker will look elsewhere for a mate once he discovers she’s not one of the O-positive set, and can’t believe it when Parker finds her irresistible.

When the witch who’s been plaguing Parker’s life discovers the newfound attraction between Parker and Amara, she takes out her anger on the town. Can the supernaturals of Maggie’s Grove accept Amara and band together in time to withstand the assaults of the enraged witch?

78,000 words

Dear Reader,

A new year always brings with it a sense of expectation and promise (and maybe a vague sense of guilt). Expectation because we don’t know what the year will bring exactly, but promise because we always hope it will be good things. The guilt is due to all of the New Year’s resolutions we make with such good intentions.

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Dedication

To Mom, who makes a face every time she sees me eat sashimi, but encourages me to bring it to our family dinners anyway. Someday I’ll get you to try it, and you’ll see what the big deal is. Of course, we might have to raid Dad’s homemade wine first.

To Dad, who suggested I send some homemade wine to my mother-in-law because he noticed how much she loved it when she came to visit. I’m awarding plenty of brownie points for that, even though I’m taking a lot away. P.S.: The “old fart” remote control car the boys had tooting in my face has met with an unfortunate, yet predictable, staircase accident.

Finally, to Dusty, who still manages to sneak up and scare me even after twenty years together. I’m sorry, but laughing when I smack you in retaliation doesn’t make me want to stop. Neither does calling me Super Grover, even if I do hit like a girl. Chocolate, on the other hand, works wonders.

Acknowledgments

The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

Disney World: Disney Enterprises, Inc.

Taco Bell: Taco Bell Corp.

Ben and Jerry’s: Ben and Jerry’s Homemade, Inc.

YouTube: Google Inc.

XTube: VirageMedia Inc.

Contents

Copyright

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Epilogue

About the Author

Prologue

The California Desert, Sometime in the 1960s…

“You know, my friend told me you were a witch, but I didn’t know he meant it literally.”

Parker clutched the bars of his cage and stared at the hippie chick he’d shagged a few nights before. Damn, she’d been a sweet piece too, tasty on the inside and the outside. A rare combination and one he’d planned on sampling again before moving on. She had the biggest green eyes he’d ever seen and a mouth that could suck-start a motorcycle.

Too bad she’d taken exception to his dalliance with the daisy-crowned flower child. He’d been caught with his fangs down, and now the witch was going to exact some freaky revenge. From the way her huge cauldron bubbled, he wouldn’t be surprised if she tried to boil him alive.

“I worked pretty hard to get you into my bed.”

Parker blinked, unsure if he should be flattered or terrified.

Never mind. He knew—terrified. She stirred the mess in the cauldron, and it was all he could do not to scream like a girl. Okay, make that more terrified. He might be a vampire, hunter of the night and all-around badass, but a woman scorned was fucking scary.

“You did?”

“Mm-hmm.” She tossed something into the bubbling goo. The stench was foul beyond comprehension. What the hell had she put in there? And was it going to touch any part of him? There wasn’t enough tomato juice in the world to get that scent washed off.

“I’m flattered.” He remembered first catching sight of her dancing around a bonfire during one of the numerous parties his friends had thrown. She’d looked utterly edible. “I remember you dancing.”

She smiled like he’d handed her a gilded rose. “Yes!” She drifted by, her voice dreamy, her expression serene. “I called you to me. You couldn’t resist my allure.”

Someone needs to stop taking the brown acid. “Look, it was nice and all, but—”

“Nice!”

Parker’s ears were ringing. Damn, she could shriek.

“I let you into my temple, and you desecrated it!”

Oh now, hold on a moment. “You begged me to desecrate it!”

She pointed her white-handled knife at him. “You cheated on me.”

“You have to be in a relationship to cheat. All we did was party together. Horizontally.”

She sniffled, tears forming in her eyes. “I thought I meant something to you.”

Aw shit. Humor the crazy lady. “You did.” He rattled the bars, unsure why he couldn’t turn to mist and drift through them. The one time he tried he’d almost passed out from the pain. “You could.”

The eager grin she was suddenly sporting scared the bejesus out of him. “Yes. And to make sure it never happens again, I’ve come up with a plan.”

Uh-oh. “Excuse me?”

“Don’t worry, my love. You’ll never need to feed off anyone else again.”

“You know?” When he’d thought about being caught with his fangs down, he hadn’t meant it literally.

He’d done everything he was supposed to. The feeding should have been a vague memory of a sharp nip; the only physical reminder, a tiny hickey.

Greg could have warned him. If her lack of memory loss was due to her being a real witch, then he never would have fed from her in the first place, but Greg, a witch himself, had never once mentioned that they were immune.

Oh wait. Greg had warned him to “stay away from the crazy.” Too bad he’d listened to his prick instead.

“That you’re a Nosferatu?” She turned back to the cauldron. The smell coming from it was truly vile.

He winced. “I prefer vampire, myself.” Nosferatu made him think of that spindly, ugly-ass guy in the black-and-white film. He might not be Tony Curtis, but he sure as hell wasn’t that guy either.

There was that smile that had led him to her bed, the one that promised all sorts of forbidden delights. “Of course. I’ll remember that.”

“Thanks.” He gave his attention once more to the iron bars of his cage. He twisted and pulled, bending them, but not nearly enough.

Damn it. He’d been working on freeing himself for an hour or more. Normally breaking out of a simple iron cage wouldn’t be a problem, but she’d done something to it, something…magical? Whatever it was, the bars were extremely difficult to break. “So what do you have planned?”

“Nothing much. I’m going to change your diet.”

He froze. What she was suggesting was impossible. “What?”

She grinned over her shoulder, her whole body glowing eerily. It wasn’t a reflection of the firelight on her skin either. This was serious magic. “It’s simple, really. I’m going to make you unable to feed from anyone but me. Then you’ll never cheat on me again. Isn’t it a great idea?”

The idea was revolting. It was unnatural. It was against the vampire code of ethics or something. He couldn’t live off her; she wasn’t his singele sotiei, his blood wife. Only his sotiei could sustain him the way Terri was talking about.

She dipped a golden goblet into the green goo in the cauldron. “When I’m done, the only one you’ll ever need will be me.” She turned toward him, the goblet balanced between her hands. “It’s time, my love.”

“Oh fuck me.” Parker began kicking at the bars with all his might. The outcome of this could not be good.

“Here. Drink this, and we’ll be together forever.”

No way. Odds were good she was carrying liquid death in her hands. His death. Parker knocked the goblet away, but the liquid sloshed over the sides. Some landed on him, some on her. The dark green was almost pretty against her skin.

She looked at him and smiled. “I love you.”

Then the pain hit, and he couldn’t do anything but scream.

***

Haight-Ashbury, Sometime in the 1960s…

“Oh Goddess. Oh Goddess. Oh fuck.”

Someone pounded on the restroom door. “Brother. What the hell are you doing in there?” A pair of ratty sneakers were visible under the tan door.

Parker clenched the sides of the toilet bowl and prayed for death. He didn’t even know he had these bodily functions anymore. Hell, he hadn’t taken a dump in two centuries!

This was all that bitch’s fault. “That is the last time I eat cactus.” He shuddered, cold sweat popping out on his forehead. It was bad enough he’d had to pick the fucking needles out of his gums, but this? This was the ultimate indignity.

The poor bastard waiting to use the toilet backed up, until Parker couldn’t see his shoes. “What did you say?” He probably thought Parker was high on something.

“Nothing,” he wheezed. When he found that bitch, he was going to kill her. Kill her dead. Deader than dead.

After he got her to remove the goddamn curse.

“Oh Goddess!”

“What?”

Parker groaned. “I think I shit out my spleen.”

***

Boston, Sometime in the 1980s…

Parker pushed the shopping cart around the store and did his best to ignore the strange looks people gave him—or rather, his grocery cart. He’d gotten used to them over the last decade or so, but at least he had a better handle on what the witch had done to him. The experiments to find what he could and could not eat had not been pleasant. Memories of the infamous Cactus Incident haunted his dreams during the day.

A vampire cursed to drink nothing but the blood of plants. What the hell had she been thinking?

His butt cheeks clenched at the horrible memory of that day in the restroom.

Everyone knew cacti produced water, which was why he’d attempted to drink from it. What most people didn’t know was the water they contained also produced diarrhea, nausea and vomiting in anyone who drank it, like vampires who were stuck on a restricted diet.

Thank the Goddess for Greg, who’d helped him figure out what the hell he was living with. If not for him, Parker probably would have starved to death or, worse, gone feral and been hunted by his kind. Once Greg heard what he’d been through (and had stopped laughing long enough), he’d concocted a plan to help Parker survive without Terri.

At least he’d managed to avoid her the last few years. The last time she’d caught up to him had been the worst. He’d woken up to find her snuggled up against him, her spooky green eyes boring into him, her scent both tantalizing and repulsive at the same time. His fangs had descended in preparation for feeding, startling him. She’d had him by the balls, her nails lightly scratching the wrinkled skin. “I’ve missed you,” she’d crooned.

He’d never moved so fast in his life. He couldn’t believe he’d been forced to streak through New York City at rush hour. He was lucky he hadn’t been arrested and thrown in a nice cell block with Bubba the Butt Buddy. The sunburn had taken days to heal.

He finished his shopping and headed for the checkout. He placed ten bottles of all-natural maple syrup, a potted spider plant, a bouquet of carnations and a box of caramels on the counter.

The cashier looked at his purchase and frowned.

Parker shrugged. “What? I like caramels.”

She rang him up silently, much to his relief.

The light was on when he got back to the apartment, which meant Greg was probably there. Parker opened the door and picked up the grocery bags, his stomach grumbling. “Honey, I’m home!”

Greg West, his roommate and resident pain in the ass, sauntered out of the kitchen. A Kiss the Cook apron barely fit his athletic body. You’d never know he was both an accountant and a witch. He looked like a fullback for the Giants. “Knock it off with that honey shit, or I won’t feed you dinner.”

Parker held up the bags and grinned. He shook the right one gently, hoping to bribe Greg into a better mood. “I bought you caramels.”

Greg rolled his eyes and headed back into the kitchen. “Did you get the plant?”

“Yup.”

“And the syrup?”

“Uh-huh.” Parker followed Greg, more than ready for his dinner.

“Over there, then.”

Parker deposited the bags on the table. “What’s for dinner?”

Greg sighed. “The usual.”

“Yum.” Parker blinked. Was he beginning to like his curse? He supposed it was possible. One of the things he’d come to appreciate about his changed diet was the variety. O-negative might be different from O-positive, but in the long run, it all tasted like blood. Now he got to try all sorts of flavor and texture combinations he’d have been forced to vomit back up in the old days.

Greg snipped a piece of the spider plant and put it in the blender. Maple syrup was then added, along with some of the leaves off the bouquet of carnations. “Felt like a change?”

“Something like that.” Parker put the carnations in some water. It would help them live a few more days. Besides, he loved the scent of the flowers but couldn’t eat the blossoms, only the leaves. Stupid curse. When Terri had cursed him to drink nothing but green, leafy blood, she’d been serious. Greg had helped him figure out it took a delicate balance of human blood, tree sap and leaves. Too little blood, and Parker would begin to lose weight. Too much, and his body would try to reject the extra protein.

Greg shrugged and grabbed a knife, then pricked his finger and added some drops of blood to Parker’s dinner. He put the lid on and hit Liquefy.

No matter how many times the man had said I told you so, Parker owed him.

Parker’s mouth watered. “Have I mentioned how much I hate that bitch?”

“Every night at dinner.” Greg turned off the blender and poured the sticky golden-brown mess into a glass. He added a corkscrew straw and handed him the concoction. “Bon appétit.”

“Thanks, man. I really appreciate it.”

“Don’t mention it.” Greg went back to the steak he’d been sautéing. “How are the studies going?”

Parker took a long swallow. “Not bad, might go for my doctorate.”

Greg choked out a laugh. “You? A PhD?”

“Why not?”

“Sorry. I’m trying to picture you as Dr. Parker Hollis, professor of botany.”

“Yeah. Not exactly the way I’d envisioned my life after life.”

“I never expected I’d wind up living with a vegetarian geek vampire.”

Parker blew Greg a raspberry.

Greg leered back. “So. How much pussy does a botanist get anyway?”

Parker smirked. “Let’s see. There’s the regular pussy willow, the weeping pussy willow—”

“Man. Shut up. Idiot.” But Greg was laughing, which was a good thing, considering the bomb Parker was going to hit him with.

“I’m thinking about pursuing a minor too.”

Greg stirred the steak, adding soy sauce to the stir-fry. “In what?”

He coughed into his fist. “Witchcraft.”

“Parker,” Greg groaned.

“What?”

“First off, no respectable university offers witchcraft as a minor.”

Parker sniffed. “I never said it was respectable.” In fact, the dean of admissions had promised to do things to him that a porn star would consider disreputable.

“Second, what did I tell you about the crazy? Any place that hands out a degree in witchcraft is either a scam or up to the brim of their pointy hats in crazy.”

“But her—I mean their—work/study plan was excellent.”

Greg smacked him upside the head. “Tell Little Parker to shut the hell up for five minutes. He’s the one who got you into this situation, remember?”

“Little? I am insulted, sirrah.” Parker whipped out the straw and brandished it, waving it around like a deranged musketeer. “En garde!”

Greg lifted his spoon and assumed the position. “You are so on.”

The two dueled until, in a frenzy of soy-sauce and maple-syrup splatters, Parker lay on the floor, defeated. He lifted the broken straw and glared at it. “You failed me. Damn you, corkscrew straw.”

Laughing, Greg helped him to his feet. “Dude, I know you want to find a way to end the curse, but seriously? I don’t think that’s the way to go about it.”

“And you would know?” Parker drank the last of his dinner and placed the glass in the sink.

One raised eyebrow was all it took to remind Parker that, yes, his friend would know. “I warned you off her.”

“Yes, mama.”

“But no, you had to have a piece o’ that.”

“Fuck off, Greg.” He stared at the blender.

“So now you’re stuck with the freakiest curse on the planet and a degree in botany that you never wanted.”

He inched closer to the counter where the blender rested.

“You’re not taking it apart to lick the blades. That’s just wrong. I use that to make smoothies, and I don’t need that picture in my head while I do it.”

“Aw, man.”

“I mean, who curses a vampire to drink green, leafy blood anyway?” Greg grabbed a clean spoon and tried to salvage his dinner. From the burned smell he wasn’t going to have much luck with that.

“Terri, that’s who.”

Greg poked him in the chest, smearing soy sauce on his shirt. “She turned you into Bunnicula.”

Parker growled. So did his stomach. “Look on the bright side. At least I’m not sprouting things like she is.”

“Next time I tell you to stay away from the crazy, what are you gonna do?”

“Run past Go, do not stop, do not collect two hundred dollars?”

“Damn straight.” Greg blinked. “How did you get soy sauce on your shirt?”

Parker rolled his eyes, snagged the blender and headed for his room.

“That’s wrong, damn it!”

Parker slammed the door shut with a grin. He could hear Greg grumbling long after he’d licked the glass clean.

***

Maggie’s Grove, Maryland, Twenty-five Years Ago…

“Oh. Would you look at that?”

She stretched her arms out to the sun, young and eager to bud. Her sap began to flow under the caress of the spring sun.

It was a good day to be alive.

“Who are you?”

She opened her eyes to find a stranger sitting next to her tree. She tilted her head up at the person—the woman—wondering what she might want.

“Can you speak, dear?”

She watched the woman’s mouth move, learning the shape and the grain of the words. “Hello.”

The woman smiled. “You’re a young dryad, aren’t you?”

She was?

Yes, she was.

“Which one is your tree?”

Oh, that one she knew. She placed her hand on the trunk of her tree. The sap running through it was comforting. The roots dug deep into the earth.

“Ah, the Schwedler Norway maple, eh? Very pretty. It’s my favorite tree in the whole garden.”

She preened. The woman thought her tree was pretty.

“Do you have a name?”

Name?

“Mine is Glinda Gershowitz. I’m the one who planted your tree, though I didn’t know I’d get you too.”

She frowned. She didn’t understand.

“Oh, you’re that new, are you? May I help you pick your name?”

“What’s a name?”

“A name is that which other people call you. When people see me, they know I’m Glinda.” Glinda placed her hand on the maple. “When they see your tree, they think Schwedler maple.”

Oh. That made sense.

“Would you like your very own name?”

She nodded, pleased at the thought. Glinda was very nice. She had nice brown eyes and silver hair. She smelled of sunshine and warm earth. Glinda would help her, she knew.

“Well, I would suggest, since you come from a Schwedler, that your last name be Schwedler.”

Last name? How many names would she get? She hoped not too many. She might have trouble remembering them all.

“Hmm. And since your tree is Norwegian, how about…Helga?”

She wrinkled her nose. Helga? No, that didn’t sound right.

“Olga?”

She shook her head. That one wasn’t right either.

“Wait, my niece just had a baby. Let me get my baby-name book, and we’ll pick one out, hmm? Maybe we can find a name together.”

A book? What was a book?

The woman disappeared into a strange glass cave covered in something that felt…dead. She reached out to touch the wrongness, but before she did, Glinda came back. “Here it is.”

Glinda held something that was dead. Something strange pulsed in her veins, something that felt like fire.

“This is a book. I know it’s made of paper, which comes from trees, but I promise it was only taken from trees that had already passed on into the Summerland.”

The fire died. If the dead wood had been dead before Glinda mutilated it, then that was the cycle of life. She was all right with that.

“Now, let me see… Aesa? No? How about Brigitte? No? Hmm. Let’s forget the Norwegian and go for something we both like, hmm?”

They flipped through the book, Glinda reading off name after name until they came to one that made both of them stop. “How about Amara? In Greek it means eternal and unfading, and in Sanskrit it means tree.”

She paused. Amara?

She liked the way it sounded. Ah-MAH-rah. It was almost as pretty as her tree. She tested the name on her tongue. “Amara.” Joy bubbled through her; the name felt right.

It was hers.

Glinda closed the book with a snap. “Amara Schwedler it is.” She stood and held out her hand, bending until she was level with Amara. “Welcome to Maggie’s Grove, Amara.”

Amara took the woman’s hand and allowed her to lead the way.

***

Maggie’s Grove, Maryland, Sometime in the 1990s…

“What are you doing?” Amara watched in horror as sweet Glinda ripped a living plant from the soil and tossed it into a pile.

“Pulling weeds, Amy.”

“Weeds?” A spurt of pleasure almost threatened to overwhelm her anger at Glinda’s actions. Only Glinda called her Amy. Everyone else in town called her Amara. When they spoke to her at all, that was. Most adults simply avoided her or talked around her as if she weren’t there. She wouldn’t begin to discuss how the people her age treated her. Every time she did, it seemed to make Glinda sad. For some reason, not even other dryads would play with her. She didn’t understand it. She’d done nothing to earn animosity from the people around her, other than be herself.

It hurt more than she wanted Glinda to know. Other dryads avoided her like she had some sort of disease—and the rest of the kids?

Best not to say what the rest of the kids liked to try to do. Amara had bloodied more than one nose in self-defense, and if Glinda found out she’d been fighting, she’d be grounded for a week, regardless of who’d started it.

Humans could be weird that way.

“Yes. Weeds.” Glinda yanked on another plant, almost succeeding in pulling it out.

Amara put her hand over Glinda’s. “Please stop.”

Glinda sighed. “My dear, this is why I do this when you’re not here.” Not here. Their code for when Amara joined with her tree, communing with it in perfect serenity.

“Why are you killing them?” She couldn’t understand it. Glinda loved plants. She was the one who’d picked Amara’s tree, who’d directed where it should be planted. She’d chosen all the beautiful flowers and trees in their garden.

“Because if I don’t, it will kill all the other plants.”

Amara blinked. That fiery something flickered to life inside her, the something that had reacted to the first book she’d ever seen. “It…will?”

“Yes.” Glinda gestured around the wild, secret garden they’d planted at the base of the mountain. Not even Rock knew about it, and he was her best friend. She bit back her sad sigh, not wanting Glinda to hear it. He was her only friend. “Do you see that vine climbing that tree over there?”

It was hard to miss. It was healthy, vibrant and glowing. The tree beneath it… Something was wrong with the tree.

“That vine will strangle the tree, killing it in order to survive. It feeds off the tree and the rain and the nutrients the tree should be getting. In the end, the tree will fall and only the weed will be left.”

The tree will fall.

She wondered what that buzzing in her ears was. Why was her vision blurring around the edges?

“Can my tree be eaten by a weed?”

“Yes.”

That fire was back in her belly, only stronger. “My tree could be eaten by a weed.”

“Amy?”

She didn’t understand why Glinda’s voice sounded so strange or why she suddenly moved away. All she knew was that the weed was going to kill the tree. “You pull the weeds so the trees can live?”

Glinda nodded, her eyes wide and frightened.

Well. She’d have to do something about that.

By the time Amara was done, not a weed was left standing. The tree that had been attacked was free and clear of the vine, free to live. The fire in her belly died, leaving behind a sense of accomplishment.

She’d done well.

She’d done her job.

Amara dusted her hands off and blew a red curl out of her face. “There.” Her stomach rumbled, reminding her it had been a while since she’d eaten. She picked a shredded leaf out of her pretty green skirt and gave Glinda her best doe eyes. “Can we have some ice cream now?”

Glinda, pale and shaking, led the way.

***

New York City, Sometime in the 2000s…

“You’re kidding me. Tell me you’re kidding me.” Parker stood outside the jail cell and tried not to laugh his ass off. Greg? In a fight? In a bar?

“Shut the hell up and bail me out.”

“Not until you tell me what happened.” He could smell the blood on Greg’s skin but knew his friend wasn’t too injured, or the cops would have sent him to the hospital.

“I had a fight. Didn’t like something the guy said. I kicked his ass. End of story.”

“Greg.” Parker could tell Greg was holding back. Why, he didn’t know, but he was determined to find out. “C’mon, man.”

Greg looked at him through the bars, and something in his expression sent shivers down Parker’s spine. Something was wrong with his best friend. Whatever it was, Parker would figure out a way to deal with it.

Nothing was going to put that scared look on Greg’s face ever again.

“Get me out and I’ll tell you. I swear.”

Parker nodded and went to bail him out. When Greg joined him up front, he opened the door to the police station without a word. He waited until they’d arrived at the tiny apartment they shared in Soho before starting in on him again. “So?”

“I’m gay.”

“And?”

Greg turned on him, his expression shocked. “What do you mean, and?”

Parker shrugged. “I’ve known for years. Why haven’t you?”

“I did… I mean, yeah, but I never mentioned it before. It…it doesn’t bother you?” And for the first time in years Greg looked unsure of himself, of Parker. Of everything.

“No. It doesn’t. Why didn’t you think you could tell me?” Parker had known for years. He’d thought it was a private matter, that eventually Greg would find someone and introduce them. But Greg hadn’t, not yet.

Or had he? “Did the fight have to do with a date?”

“No,” Greg scoffed. “Just some asshole who thought it was okay to hassle the black gay man.”

Parker grimaced and put his arm around his friend. “I’m sorry.”

“Why? You’re not the one who tried to punch my lights out.”

“Tell me who it was and I’ll put the fear of the fang in him.” Parker grinned and dropped his fangs. Thing was, he wasn’t kidding. He would put the fear in that man if it meant Greg would be all right.

Greg rolled his eyes. “Man. You’re weird.”

“Says the gay black witch.”

“Homophobe.”

“Perv.”

“You’re just jealous because I never hit on you.”

“Remind me to get you a nice pink Judy Garland T-shirt for your next birthday.”

“Asshole.” Greg hugged him. Parker could feel the tension seep out of his friend. “Thanks.”

Parker hugged him back. Finally there was something he could do for Greg for a change. “You’re welcome.”

***

Maggie’s Grove, Maryland, The Senior Prom…

Amara cried so hard she thought she’d never catch her breath again. The tattered remains of her dress floated around her, the words of her date echoing in her ears. Freak was the nicest thing he’d called her.

“Amy?”

She didn’t bother trying to dry her eyes. Glinda would know anyway.

“Why aren’t you at the prom, child?”

She couldn’t catch her breath to answer. She’d thought Jason Montanaro was different. He was a were, loyal to the bone, someone who would understand the needs of a young dryad.

But she’d forgotten for one shining, happy moment that a dryad wasn’t all she was, and now she was paying the price.

“Oh, dear.” Glinda’s arms went around her shoulders, but Amara couldn’t raise her head. Couldn’t look at the sympathy on Glinda’s face. Thank the Gods school was almost over. She’d commune with her tree for the entire summer, long enough for Jason and his friends to go away to college. Long enough for her to forget.

“What did that boy do to you?” Glinda smoothed her hair away from her hot forehead. “My poor child.”

She couldn’t breathe. It hurt too badly.

“I swear this to you, my child. Someday a man will come, one who will love you for who you are and what you are. When he does, hold on tight to him, for he’ll need you like no other.”

Her sobs quieted at the tinge of magic in Glinda’s voice. When Glinda spoke like that, things happened. Amara had learned to trust the promises spoken when Glinda used that voice.

“Let’s get you home and cleaned up. I know you’ll want some time with your tree, but promise me you’ll come out before the end of the summer. I have a graduation present for you that I think you’ll like.”

“Wh-what?”

“A trip to Disney World.”

“Disney?” Mickey Mouse and princesses and magical people who weren’t outcasts like her?

“Mm-hmm. When we get inside, I can show you the hotel we’ll be staying at, hmm?”

Well…maybe she could hold off on communing with her tree for a while. She followed Glinda home, knowing someday, somewhere, there’d be someone who accepted her the way Glinda did.

After all, a girl could dream, right?

Chapter One

Maggie’s Grove, Maryland, Present Day

Parker drove through the moonlight-drenched streets of his new hometown with a sense of peace he hadn’t experienced since Greg died. He hadn’t realized how stressed he’d gotten until he’d hit Tennessee and all the tension dissipated. Finding out Greg had cancer, helping him through the horrors of chemo and radiation, only to lose him in the end to an infection, had been devastating. Greg had been in his sixties, not old at all. At least not by Parker’s standards.

And now here he was, following Greg’s final wish to the letter. “Go to Maggie’s Grove. Buy a house. Settle down and have little vamplings.”

“Why?” Parker had asked, damn near tears. His friend’s vision had begun to fail, but it only made his inner vision sharper, clearer.

“The place is in Transylvania County, for the Goddess’s sake. It’s perfect for you.”

“Greg.” He hadn’t known whether to laugh or let those tears fall. What was he supposed to do without Greg?

“Just do what I tell you for once in your damn unlife.”

Parker had chuckled, but he’d known: Do not pass Go, do not collect two hundred dollars. Greg had a vision, and Parker would follow it without question. Even at the end of his life Greg had looked out for him. He only wished Greg hadn’t refused the Kiss when they’d first discovered the cancer. Turning him when he’d wasted away to nothing would have been cruel, not that Greg had asked, though Parker had offered more than once.

Parker would have been insulted if he hadn’t known the real reason Greg hadn’t accepted the Kiss. Greg hadn’t wanted to spend eternity as one of the undead. He’d wanted to move on, be reborn. If he’d become a vampire, he would have lost the connection to the earth that gave him his powers. To Greg, losing his witchcraft to turn into a vampire was a horror not to be borne. But he’d promised that someday Parker would find him again. Before drifting off into a coma, he’d used the last of his magic to ensure it. He’d died as peacefully as any mortal could wish.

Parker wished it hadn’t happened at all.

Parker’s gaze landed on the ornate brass pot in the seat next to him. He wondered whether Greg appreciated the massive cosmic joke that had been played on him, but was afraid to ask. Parker sure as hell did. He went to sleep chuckling about it.

Greg had been instrumental in how Parker now lived his life, and he would be forever grateful. Thanks to Greg, he’d discovered he loved dealing with plants of all shapes and sizes, loved digging his hands into rich soil and watching life sprout from it. He’d tasted and sampled more varieties of plants and saps than he’d known were even edible. He’d learned which ones to stay away from and which to embrace. He was the only vegetarian vampire in existence and had become something of an outcast, but he was all right with that. While there were those who thought he should be put out of his misery, others wanted to study him. He avoided those others like the plague. No way did he want to be tested, injected, vivisected or any other ted that might cause him pain, thank you very much. And the ones who didn’t give a rat’s ass one way or the other were the ones who’d become friends, if none as close as Greg had been. And that was why he was glad he had his best friend with him on this journey of—

“Are we there yet?”

Parker rolled his eyes. Even in death Greg didn’t shut up. “Almost.”

“Good. I’m getting itchy.”

“How can you be… Never mind. Don’t answer that.” He blew his breath out. “I’m dumping your ass under the first tree we hit. You know that, right?”

“I’d be nice to me if I were you. Stakes are made out of wood, jackass.”

“Uh-huh.” He turned down the quaint side street that led to their new home. And didn’t it tickle him silly that the one house that had called to him was on Ghost Haven Lane? “I’ll eat you, then.”

“Like you weren’t already doing that before I got sick. Why the hell should anything change?”

Parker smiled, showing way more teeth than necessary. “Ever heard of tree trimmers?”

“Ever had something shoved up your ass?”

“You and what army, Casper?” Parker crowed in victory at Greg’s sputtering. “Yes! Score one for the fanged one.”

He pulled up outside the home he’d purchased over the internet and climbed out, eagerly scanning the quiet neighborhood. Off to his right was a beautiful Victorian painted lady, colorful and gay, with lavender-and-purple siding and blinding yellow trim. To his left was a lovely Craftsman home with a huge front porch any family would die for.

His home was a midcentury ranch, updated recently to appeal to a more modern taste. The stonework at the base of the house was complemented by the gray siding. The windows were large, allowing plenty of natural light, something Parker would take care of with thick curtains. The landscaping was pristine, with a nice shade tree in the front yard and a fountain surrounded by stone benches, a perfect place to people-watch. Parker had loved the pictures on the website, had known this was the place for him to be. There was even a welcoming porch, wide enough to accommodate a chair or two.

He grabbed Greg’s urn and climbed the steps to the dark red front door, eager to enter his new home for the first time.

“Incoming.”

“Who are you?”

Parker whirled around. Someone had sneaked up on him. Damn, his senses were dulling if people could…do… Hell-o.

Parker found himself staring at the most incredible redhead he’d ever been privileged to lay eyes on. Something about her scent tantalized him, teased him. For the first time in decades his mouth watered over a person rather than a salad. “The new owner.” He took a step forward and held out his hand, juggling the urn. “Parker Hollis. Are you one of my neighbors?”

She stared at his hand, a frown marring her lovely face. “You’re dead.”

Parker’s jaw dropped. “What?”

“You’re a vampire.” She said it with such authority that he couldn’t deny it.

Parker checked his fangs with his tongue. Nope, his teeth felt human. “What would make you say that?”

“You’re unnaturally pale, you’re carrying around another dead guy, which is freaky even for a vampire, and your eyes are glowing ruby red.”

He laughed, but even to his ears it sounded awkward. “Vampires don’t exist.”

She poked him in the stomach. “Funny. You feel real enough.”

Want to feel some more? “Whatever would give you the idea that there are vampires?”

“You mean besides the fangs poking your bottom lip?”

Parker blushed. That hadn’t happened in years. These days they only descended at the sound of a blender. Made going into a smoothie shop a real chore. “Oh. Sorry about that.” He forced his beast back and away from the pretty, pretty girl.

“Don’t worry about it. One of my best friends is a vampire.”

“That explains a lot.” Humans and vampires rarely became friends, but if it could happen to Parker, it could happen to his lovely neighbor. “For a moment there I thought I was wearing a sign.”

Her frown smoothed out into a shy smile. Her lips made a lovely cupid’s bow, tempting him to sample them, to see if they tasted as rich as they looked. “I don’t know. You could be. Have you looked in a mirror lately? Oh wait, would you even see the sign?”

“Ha-ha. That’s a myth, I’ll have you know.” He stuck his hand out again, wondering why the woman wasn’t more freaked-out. She knew what he was; did that mean she too was supernatural? He couldn’t detect any scent of were, none of the sparkle the fae had. The only odd thing was that utterly delicious scent wafting from her. She smelled like the highest-quality syrup mixed with the rarest of greens, combined with that hint of copper every vampire craved. “You are?”

“Amara Schwedler. I live next door.” She pointed toward the lavender Victorian with a sad smile. “My friend Glinda left it to me.”

“Left it to you?”

“She passed away a year ago.”

Parker frowned. “I’m sorry for your loss. I recently lost a good friend myself, so I know how much it hurts.” He set the urn down on the front porch. He had no desire to crack Greg’s final resting place, but damn, he wanted to get closer to the sweet-smelling female standing at the bottom of the steps.

“Aw, how sweet.”

Parker ignored Greg, glad no one else could hear him. No matter what Greg thought, watching him die had been painful, almost as bad as his conversion.

“Why didn’t you change him?”

He took a chance and prayed Greg would forgive him. “He was a witch.”

“Parker!”

“Ah. Of course. He’d have lost his powers if you changed him. No witch wants that.”

He dared take a step closer to her. “You seem to know a great deal about witches as well as vampires.”

“Mm-hmm. Glinda was one.”

He nearly laughed. Some witch had dared name their daughter after the Witch of the North? “I guess she was a good one.”

“Oh yes, she was the best.” Amara grinned cheekily. “She let me help create the garden behind your house.”

Parker blinked. “I have a garden?” Damn. He had plans for his backyard. Knowing his delicious neighbor lady had already taken care of it was a serious conundrum. What if he didn’t like what she’d done and decided to rip it out? Would she refuse to let him crawl inside her the way he wanted to?

“Oh yes. It’s beautiful. One of the best we’ve ever done.”

“Would you be willing to show it to me?” He’d forgo entering his home for a chance to spend some time with Amara.

She bit her lip. “May I?”

“Please.” Please please please. Anything to get her to stay close to him. He waved toward the back garden. “After you, m’lady.”

She giggled. “I like your accent.”

“Thank you.” She wasn’t the first woman to tell him they liked his British accent. American women went bonkers for an accent, even one as faded as his, and he used that to his advantage when the urge for sex became too great to satisfy with his hand.

But he’d been forced to learn caution. Terri had a habit of finding out when he’d slept with someone. The last woman he’d been with more than once had died horribly, strangled by vines in her greenhouse. The cops had called it a bizarre accident.

Parker knew better.

Parker frowned. Maybe…maybe instead of trying to end the curse, he should be trying to end Terri. After all, the curse wasn’t so bad.

Terri, on the other hand…

“Here, let me open that for you.” He reached over her head and unlatched the gate, then pulled it open and followed her inside.

He stopped dead, arrested by a wonderland of flora.

“What do you think?”

Meandering pathways led to secreted benches, perfect for sitting and enjoying a quiet evening. A patio, complete with fireplace and outdoor kitchen, was close enough to the house for entertaining, but far enough away to create its own vignette. Statuary peeked out here and there from under leaves, satyrs and dryads and faeries of all types. Trees were positioned to provide shade for all but the hottest of days. But best of all was the view of snow-capped Big Savage Mountain behind the garden, part of the Valley and Ridge Appalachians, framed by two towering oaks. “Beautiful. Absolutely beautiful.”

Amara blushed. “Thank you.”

He walked around, dazed at the beauty of his secret garden. He fingered each plant, naming them as he went. “This rhododendron is exquisite. And columbine!” He pointed toward a flowering bush. “Look at that baptisia! That’s a Carolina Moonlight, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” Amara nodded enthusiastically. “How did you know?”

He grinned. “I’m a botanist.”

“A vampire botanist?” Amara’s lips twitched.

He shrugged. “Long story.” One he might be willing to tell her someday. “I’m impressed with what you’ve done here.”

That blush raced across her cheeks once more, and he was in serious danger of having his socks, and other parts of his apparel, charmed off. “Thank you.”

“Someone’s planning on gettin’ some.”

“Shut up, Greg,” he muttered.

“Greg? Was that the name of your friend?” Amara seemed illuminated by the moonlight, fey and shy and so beautiful his heart lurched.

“Yup. Some days it’s like he still talks to me.”

“Bow-chicka-bow-wow.”

Parker gritted his teeth against the cheesy bump-and-grind noises.

“I know the feeling.” Amara grimaced, caressing a rare Sterling rose, so pale and delicate in her hand. “I was with Glinda since childhood. She raised me.”

Parker could almost feel Greg’s interest perk up. “Are you a witch?”

Amara’s expression was serene, almost reverent, as she let go of the rose. “No. I’m something else.” She turned back toward her house, her gaze at once sad and distant. “I have to go.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. I was enjoying your company.”

She looked up and smiled at him, and damn if Parker couldn’t see tiny Cupids dancing around her head. “I was too.”

He grinned. “It’s always good to enjoy your own company.”

Her brows rose.

“Ignore me. I have an odd sense of humor.”

“Something tells me you’re going to be very hard to ignore.”

He could live with that. He followed her to the gate and opened it for her. “It was a pleasure meeting you.”

Amara looked up at him, and he almost swallowed his tongue at the lust pooling in his belly. He couldn’t remember ever having a reaction like this to a woman. He wanted to cart her into his house, tie her to his bed and never let her go.

Some of the distance in her eyes eased, and she smiled at him once more. “I enjoyed our chat. I’ll come visit the garden again.”

“Not me?” Parker pouted and put his hand to his heart, feigning hurt. Parker wanted her to visit more than his rhododendrons. He wanted her in his bed. On his couch. Even in the kitchen, if he could keep Greg from bitching about his precious countertops. He would keep her for however long it took to work her out of his system.

But she was distracted by something only she could see. “Perhaps.” She walked across his lawn, and for the first time he noticed her bare feet, as she bent not a single blade of grass. Something else, indeed. “Good night, Parker Hollis.”

“Good night, Amara Schwedler.”

“That is one strange woman.”

“Yes. She is.” Parker narrowed his eyes as she glided onto her front porch and through the door. “She surely is.”

“What did I tell you about the crazy?”

Parker shook his head. “I don’t think she’s crazy. She’s…different. But not crazy.” Reaching for the latch to close the gate, he hissed and pulled his hand back. The metal had shocked him. “Greg.”

“Sorry.”

It wasn’t the first time the ghost had worked up enough energy to affect things in the physical world, but it was the first time he’d done it by accident. “What’s wrong?”

“She seems familiar somehow, like I should know her. But why would I? I’ve never seen her before in my life.”

“If I have my way, you’ll be seeing a lot of her. Preferably naked and bent over my couch.” He went back to the front porch and hefted the urn with a grunt. “Damn, Greg. Have you gained weight?”

“Shut the hell up.”

Grinning, Parker carried his friend into their new home, turned on the lights and sighed. “It looks better than I thought it would.”

“Yeah. A few touches here and there and it will feel like home.”

Parker nodded as he carried Greg into the living room. The movers had set everything up. His caramel-colored leather couch was in place in front of the fireplace. The mantel and surround were made out of dark, rich wood with opalescent glass tile around the firebox opening. A huge red-and-gray geometric-patterned rug anchored the area. His chrome-and-glass table lamps gleamed against all the dark wood. It would be a perfect place to cuddle on a cold winter night. The walls were done in a mocha color he was debating painting over. Greg liked it, but it was too bland. Parker liked color, inside and out. Oak floors ran throughout the house.

Parker placed Greg’s urn on the mantel and explored the rest of the house.

The first hallway off the living room led straight into the dining room. His table was too small for the space; he’d either have to leave it fully extended or purchase a new one. The chandelier was beautiful, but its crystal elegance was wasted on his table. “We need a new dining set,” he muttered, running his fingers along the wood.

“Seriously. We could look online.”

“Or visit that antique shop we passed on the way through town.”

“Even better.”

The kitchen was a slice of heaven. Stainless steel appliances gleamed. Dark granite countertops and dark, mission-style cabinets complemented the home beautifully. There was a banquette that Parker might rip out. A pantry was better than an eat-in space, but once again Greg disagreed. They’d decided to live there awhile and see which would suit them better after they’d settled in.

Parker headed back to the living room and down the right-hand corridor. This one led to two guest bedrooms and a bath. The bedroom facing the front of the house was Parker’s office.

The other corridor led to the third guest bedroom and master bedroom, where Parker’s king-size sleigh bed fit right in.

“I’ll bet you anything the little chickie next door has a four-poster.”

Parker ignored his friend and checked out the master bath. It held a tub big enough for two and a shower big enough for three, double sinks and marble vanities. Perfect. He stripped and left his clothes on the heated natural stone floor.

“Pig. Didn’t your mama teach you to pick up after yourself?”

“Oink, oink.” He turned on the hot water and basked under the spray. Thoughts of the cute redhead next door drifted through his mind. His lips curled in a hungry smile.

Something told him he was going to love it here in Maggie’s Grove.

Amara breathed in the night air, somehow invigorated by her interactions with her new neighbor. He’d stared at her with heated eyes, watching her move around his garden.

He’d wanted her. No one had wanted her like that before. Amara wasn’t quite sure what to do about that. The few times she’d been with a man had been pleasant, but there had been none of the heat a single glance from Parker’s rich brown eyes had caused. She could drown in those eyes, lose herself forever in them.

That couldn’t be good. Besides, even if she did try to pursue something with him, she was almost positive they would be…incompatible. No vampire could feast on her. They required human blood, and hers was anything but.

She stood beneath her tree, surrounded by its heavy, comforting warmth. Deep roots tapped into the earth, drank in its lushness, its life, and filled her with peace. But the memory of brown eyes and tousled brown hair darkened to near-black in the night marred her usual serene union with her tree. The man drew her like a moth to flame, and if she weren’t careful, her wings would get singed.

She understood the fire that burned inside her when she protected the forest, but she didn’t understand this new need that beckoned her toward the man next door. The one that told her to crawl into the vampire’s lap and hold on to him through the night. Goddess above, she wished Glinda were here to explain this to her, because no one else she knew could. She’d developed a few more friendships since college, but none of the local dryads would speak to her, and the rest of the townsfolk avoided her.

Of the few friends she did have, none of them understood what it meant to be a dryad.

She stared up at the stars, and the first tear of the night slipped down her cheek.

“Glinda, I need you.”

But neither the stars nor her friend answered. So Amara did the only thing she could to ease her confusion. She slipped inside her tree and allowed it to comfort her.

Chapter Two

“I don’t know what you’re going on about. It’s only been two weeks. What’s two weeks to someone like you? Hell, we’ve barely finished stocking the fridge.”

“Shut the hell up, Greg.” Parker placed the book back on the shelf and prayed no one heard him arguing with a ghost.

The townspeople were friendly on the whole, but they couldn’t know the new man in their midst wasn’t crazy, just haunted. “She hasn’t been in her house, and from what I’ve heard around town, she hasn’t been to work. Wherever that is.” One thing was for sure, it wasn’t the local library. He sighed and moved to a new set of shelves, hoping to find the book he’d come in for. So far he’d had no luck. He picked up one that was similar, hoping it would do.

“Not that one.” He put the book back on the shelf and moved on. “You also heard that’s normal for her, so why are you so worried?”

“I don’t know. Something doesn’t add up.” He leaned against the bookcase and took a surreptitious sniff, making sure no one lingered nearby. “Why does she smell so damn good, where did she go and why am I the only one curious about it?”

Then again, he supposed he could chalk it up to yet more of the strangeness of Maggie’s Grove, like a library that was open twenty-four hours a day and streets with names like Howling Street and Fang’s Crossing.

“I’d be more concerned about what we’re going to do when Terri shows up. We need to be prepared if we’re going to take her out once and for all.”

Parker picked up a book and waved it in Greg’s general direction.

“That one could work.”

He tucked it under his arm. “Chock-full of magical goodness, is it?”

“Very funny. Check it out, asshole.”

He flipped through the pages, startled to see the information he’d been looking for. “Huh. How does Amara look to you, by the way?” Greg said Parker looked the same as he always had except for a faint green glow, probably a result of the curse. He was curious to find out how Amara appeared to the ghost.

“Man, you are obsessed.” Greg got quiet. “Strange. She looks like you. But not. Maybe that’s why she seemed so familiar.”

“Cursed, you mean?” That might explain a few things, like why she had disappeared and no one seemed to think twice about it.

“No. There’s nothing unnatural about her. If anything, she’s very natural. Almost too natural.”

“How can you be too natural?” Trying his best to look harmless, Parker smiled at the young woman who walked past him. He tapped the book and shrugged. She smiled back shyly and scuttled away. “They grow them sweet in this town, my friend.”

“Not all of them.”

Parker opened his mouth to reply, when a strident voice broke the silence of the library. “There you are.”

He winced. Goddess, what was it about him and crazy women? He turned to face his new boss and all-around pain in the ass, Mollie Ferguson. As usual, she was wound so tight he was surprised her eyelids didn’t squeak when she blinked. “Yup. Here I am.”

She glared at him, tapping her sensible shoe on the linoleum floor, her navy blue suit rumpled beyond redemption. Her blond hair was pulled back in a tight bun, not a hair out of place. Her makeup showed off blue eyes that would have been stunning if they weren’t constantly filled with annoyance. “You’re due back at work in ten minutes.”

What was her issue? “And I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

She huffed out a breath. “I needed that display done before you left.”

She was kidding, right? He was supernatural, not super-powered. “Kal-El would have had trouble getting it done on time.” She was talking about a major flower display for a show in two days’ time, and she hadn’t told him about it until he’d arrived at work earlier. Now she was panicking and he was considering early retirement.

“You don’t understand how important this is, Mr. Hollis.”

Apparently not. “I’ll do as much as I can when I get back.” It sucked having trouble moving around during the day, since it limited his job choices. But never before had the midnight shift at Taco Bell sounded like the better choice.

The job at The Greenhouse had seemed like such a wonderful opportunity when he’d first heard of it. A greenhouse designed to present endangered plant species as works of art, the place was part museum, part preserve, and the funds The Greenhouse brought in were used to help reintroduce endangered plant life back into the wild. During the day, The Greenhouse offered refreshments to visitors, taught classes on gardening and educated the local schoolchildren. Best of all it was in the town he’d just bought a house in. Parker had thought he’d love it.

Then he’d met his boss.

“You do that.” She hesitated, and he saw the hesitation in her eyes. It reminded him how young she was. Mollie Ferguson had to be in her early to mid-twenties, far too inexperienced for the responsibility of managing such a demanding place. “This means a great deal to us, Mr. Hollis. A great deal.”

“I’ll do my best.” And thanks to her, he’d have to check his books out and leave without finding the book he’d been looking for. His lunch break was over, damn it, and the research they’d planned on doing into hexes would have to wait another night. He’d have to hit the library again tomorrow night, see how extensive their witchcraft section was.

“Thank you.” She turned on her heel and marched away, every line of her body rigid. But at the end of the row she paused. “Thank you,” she repeated. This time it sounded genuine and so achingly uncertain that he wanted to help her despite her status as a certified pain in the ass.

Parker sighed. He was surrounded by crazy, and that crazy now included him. “You’re welcome.”

She regained her composure and took off, her heels clattering down the wooden stairs toward the front of the library.

“Is it my cologne? Is that what attracts them?”

“Hmm? Oh, you mean the crazy? I thought it was your sparkling wit.”

“Never mind. Let’s get out of here.” Parker went to the front desk to check out his book, thoughts of strange neighbors and witchy enemies subsumed by his boss’s panic.

“Hi, Parker.”

“Hey, Steve.” Parker grinned at the cheerful young man behind the counter, determined to get his books and get the hell back to work before Mollie Ferguson made his life hell.

Amara stepped out into the night air and stretched, more at peace than she had been in a long time. Her commune with her tree had gone a long way toward easing her concerns.

Now she needed to find out how things had gone in her absence. It had been roughly two weeks since she’d entered her tree, but it was hard to pin down an exact time. Time moved differently for the forest than for humans. It was slower, measured in seasons rather than hours, and it was easy to lose track of the days. If her tree hadn’t given her a gentle reminder she was needed in the human world, she would have happily stayed there till the first snows fell.

Amara yawned. Right after a bath she’d need to call her boss, Rock, to let him know she was back. She hoped whoever had covered her shift had been nice to the kids in the learning center. Some of the people who worked at the ranger station could be downright scary. After that, a trip to the secret garden was in order. She had to make sure none of the weeds had grown. Besides, it would be a way to help her mind return to the human world.

She entered the house and picked up the phone, dialing her number for work. She wasn’t certain why Glinda had insisted she get a human job or keep the human house, but she trusted Glinda’s instincts. The witch had never been wrong when she spoke in that magical tone. So Glinda had made sure that she got the degree she needed to join the Forest Service.

“Hello, Big Savage Mountain Ranger Station, Ranger Ian Rockford speaking.”

It always amazed her how deep his voice was. Any lower, and only werewolves would be able to hear him. “Hey, Rock. It’s Amara.”

“Done communing?”

“Yup.”

“Then I expect your sexy ass in gear tomorrow. We’ve got kindergarteners coming through, and you know how much they love you.”

Amara smiled. She loved dealing with the youngest members of Maggie’s Grove. It wasn’t until the older residents whispered in their ears that the children became afraid of her or acted belligerent toward her. It hurt like hell when it happened too. Those sweet faces would turn away, and she’d never see their happy expressions again. “Thanks, Rock.”

“No problem. See you tomorrow.”

Amara hung up and wandered upstairs. She started the water in the claw-foot bathtub, eager to wash away the last of her stress. Things had gotten odd recently, and she wasn’t quite certain how to deal with them. The pull to go next door and see what Parker was doing, stare into those beautiful eyes of his, was nearly overwhelming. Fighting it had taken a toll on her peace of mind, forcing her to commune with her tree and let the world fade away. But it hadn’t.

He hadn’t, and now she had to decide what to do about it. There was something about the vampire that drew her in a way no one else ever had, and it scared her almost as much as it fascinated her.

She peeked out the window toward Parker’s house while she waited for the tub to fill. She wondered if the community had welcomed him yet. He’d probably never lived anywhere quite like Maggie’s Grove. There wasn’t any place in the world that could match it.

She hoped he loved it the way she did. No matter what else had happened to her, how isolated she’d felt growing up, she’d had Rock and Glinda to get her through. It had been enough, and for them she loved this town and everyone in it. She turned off the water and peeked out one last time. She laughed out loud when a familiar car pulled up to Parker’s house.

Parker was about to meet the Maggie’s Grove equivalent of a welcome wagon.

The doorbell rang as Parker finished his dinner. The stale taste of the bagged blood mixed with his usual nighttime snack was nowhere near as nice as the blood Greg had provided, but he was getting used to it. Until he could find a human willing to sacrifice a few drops here and there, he was stuck with what Greg called BRE: blood ready to eat. At least he could cut the taste, unlike other vamps.

But there weren’t enough rose leaves in the world to disguise the flavor of a BRE.

He stashed the bag in the fridge and ran to the door, wondering where Greg had gone. The ghost had been awfully quiet this evening. The television was off and the radio was silent.

He opened the door to a young man standing there in jeans and a dark blue button-down shirt, his blond hair scraped back from his forehead in a low ponytail. He smiled, warm and inviting, reminding Parker of the time he’d gone with Greg to a gay bar. Half the men there had hit on him; the other half had hit on Greg. It had been a while since a man had hit on him, and if he did, hopefully he wouldn’t be offended when Parker turned him down. He looked like a nice person, but Parker’s interest didn’t swing that way. “Can I help you?”

“Hi. My name’s Brian Cunningham.” Brian shook Parker’s hand. “The city council sent me. Can I come in?”

Parker’s brows rose. What in blue blazes could the city council want with him? As far as he knew, he hadn’t done anything wrong. “Um. Sure. I’ve just finished unpacking, so things are a bit messy.” He shut the door behind the shorter man. Brian’s gaze swept the hallway, taking everything in. He finally lit on Greg’s urn. “I heard you’d lost someone recently. The town wanted you to know we’re sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you.” Brian’s expression was strange—like he was waiting for something. “Why did the council send you exactly?” Because somehow Parker knew it wasn’t to offer their condolences.

Brian chuckled. “I’m your new Renfield.”

Parker’s jaw remained shut through sheer force of will. “Excuse me?” Renfields were humans picked by vampires to serve and protect them during daylight hours when they were most vulnerable. Parker had never taken one, not really seeing the need for it.

Besides, he couldn’t afford one.

“Don’t worry too much about it. I come from a long line of Renfields.” Brian swept into the living room and sat on Parker’s favorite chair. “I need to know what duties you’d like me to take care of for you. Did your previous Renfield leave an appointment book or something I could use as a starting point?”

“I don’t need a Renfield.”

“They all say that,” Brian muttered. “Look, every vamp in Maggie’s Grove has one. Trust me, they’d stare at you funny if you didn’t.”

“They’re already going to—every vamp in Maggie’s Grove?” Parker’s knees had gone weak. He settled on the couch before he fell on it.

“You don’t know, do you?” Brian looked even more amused. “How did you find out about Maggie’s Grove?”

“My friend on the mantelpiece was a witch. He told me to come here.”

“Ah. My apologies. We thought you knew.” The smile left his face, his expression becoming serious as death. “Okay, here’s what’s going on. First off, you’re aware Maggie’s Grove is chock-full of supernaturals, right?” At Parker’s stunned look, Brian laughed. “Oh yeah. The witches keep out anyone who either isn’t one or isn’t capable of accepting us. You just found the only town in America where you’re one of the normal residents and humans are considered odd man out.”

Parker was glad he was sitting. He felt light-headed.

“Your settling-in period is officially over. You’ve unpacked, and you’ve been assigned a Renfield, since it’s obvious you don’t have one.”

“Who the hell is this guy?”

Brian jumped. His gaze landed somewhere behind Parker. “Holy fuck. You have a ghost?” His tongue darted out to lick his lips, and if Parker didn’t know better, he’d swear Brian was checking out a seriously hot man.

Could Brian see Greg?

“Can you hear him?”

“Sure. Sensitives and psychics run in my family, and ghosts happen to be my specialty. No wonder Mayor Ibanescu sent me. He knew I’d fit in perfectly.”

“Mayor who?” Since when did the mayor care so much about his resident vampires? “So. Who are you, who the hell is Mayor Ibanescu and what the fuck is going on?” That last was roared loud enough to shake the windows.

Once Brian’s eyes uncrossed, he explained. “Okay. Maggie’s Grove was founded over two hundred and fifty years ago by people from, believe it or not, Transylvania. Cliché, I know, but I swear it’s true.”

“Uh-huh. Pull the other one. I thought most of the people who settled in Maryland were French, Dutch and English, Mr. Cunningham.”

“They were. Mostly. But we had a few…special immigrants—ones with, shall we say, special needs? Maggie’s Grove was founded to harbor them, and in time it became what you see today, a town made up almost completely of supernaturals. We have vampires, werewolves, doppelgängers, psychics, witches, dryads, elementals—you name it. I think the only thing we don’t have are mermaids. And somewhere on the edge of town I hear there’s an actual dragon shifter, but that’s nothing but a rumor. I mean, really.”

“Dragon…shifter?”

Brian snorted, amused. “Who could believe it, right? Those guys are nothing but myth.”

Parker damn near strangled on his laughter. A dragon shifter. Good grief.

Brian shook his head. “And humans like me of course.”

“Of course.” Parker was fascinated. “How does that work? I’d think there’d be problems with humans and supernaturals living together so openly.” This was the only place he’d ever heard of where the humans were not only aware of the supernatural in their midst, but actively welcomed them. Most supernaturals avoided outing themselves to humans, lest they find themselves being hunted by Van Helsings. The hunters delighted in bagging vamps, weres and fae. Van Helsings firmly believed all supernaturals were threats to humanity, whether or not they were. No one wanted to tangle with Van Helsings.

“We protect you, you protect us. We work together as a community. The dryads take care of the forest. The elementals help with various projects, depending on their temperaments. I know a fire elemental who works as a firefighter.”

“And the humans?”

“We take care of you. For instance, every vampire gets a Renfield, paid for by the township. We make sure the daytime side of things is covered, that blood is provided as needed, that sort of thing. In exchange, the vampires become security guards, cops—just about any job that has a night shift. Heck, one of the nighttime librarians is a vampire.”

It certainly wasn’t Steve, the only librarian he’d met so far. Steve’s heartbeat had been healthy, unlike his own. “I’m a botanist.”

“A vampire botanist?”

People needed to stop laughing at what he did for a living. So it wasn’t a normal occupation for the fanged set, but president of the Bela Lugosi fan club had been taken. Besides, capes made him look like a complete spaz. “I work at The Greenhouse.”

Brian winced. “Ouch. Mollie Ferguson is a hard-ass when it comes to that place.”

“I know.” He rotated his shoulders, still sore from the effort to get the display done on time. “Listen, I’m not sure my having a Renfield is such a good idea. I mean, where would you live?”

“Here. With you. We’d set up a Renfield apartment for me so I wouldn’t be in your hair twenty-four-seven. Trust me, you aren’t the first vampire who arrived in town without one, and you won’t be the last.”

“I’m not sure I like this.”

“Well, as his last Renfield, you can fill me in on how to take care of Mr. Hollis, maybe fill in some of his history for me.”

Parker panicked. No way. Greg would have way too much fun with that. “Greg!”

“Last Renfield? Oh hell no. I’m no Renfield!”

“Oh. I’m sorry. I assumed… So who took care of him before he came here?”

“I did.”

“Oh?” One of Brian’s brows rose. He folded his arms across his chest as he stared at a spot somewhere to the left of Greg’s urn. Parker could swear the man saw Greg. “So how are you not a Renfield, then?”

It was like watching a cosmic train wreck. How the hell was Parker supposed to stop Greg when he couldn’t even see him?

“I was a witch, damn it!”

Brian’s eyes lit up with reverence and sexual interest. “Ooh. They make the best Renfields.” He sat forward, all puppy ears and eyes. “Can you tell me what I need to know? Please?”

“Well now.” He could practically hear Greg’s metaphysical hands rubbing together, his ego thoroughly stroked. Parker listened to the sound of his privacy shattering like a glass baking dish dropped from ten stories. “I think I can fill you in on the care and feeding of the world’s only vegetarian vampire.”

“Veg—did you say vegetarian?” For the first time, Brian seemed unsure of himself.

“Yes, he did.” Parker’s head collapsed against the back of the couch. “For the love of the Goddess, Greg.”

“How did that happen? And why aren’t you dead of starvation?”

Parker closed his eyes as Greg filled Brian in on his curse and the folly of not listening to his “Renfield.” By the time Greg was done speaking, Brian was making notes on his PDA and nodding furiously. “Want our witches to take a look, see if they can remove the curse?”

Parker froze. “Can they do that?”

“Sure. It’s one of the things we do, take care of each other.” Brian poked at his PDA again and closed it with a snap. “There are no guarantees, but it’s worth a shot.”

Parker wasn’t sure what the ultimate price of that caring would be, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to find out. “I don’t know.”

“I’ll double-check the witches for you. I won’t let anyone send you to a dark practitioner.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that. We have some around town, but they’re watched constantly. I’m not sure they’d bother with you anyway, other than to mock you.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” Brian’s eyes gleamed, and Parker knew he was being laughed at. “But the grays and the whites might be willing to look at it for you.”

Parker almost asked what the hell that meant but decided at the last minute he didn’t want to know. Besides, he could always ask Greg later, when the Renfield wasn’t around. “Let me think about it.”

Brian nodded and made another note. “All right. So can you fill in your turning history for me? I have to file the temporary Renfield paperwork with the township.”

Good grief, there was paperwork?

“You mean you don’t know about Parker and Jessica—”

“Don’t say it, Greg.” Parker sighed as the ghost laughed. Every time Parker mentioned his dame’s name, Greg lost it. It wasn’t her fault someone had named a cartoon after her. “I was turned in 1811 by Countess Jessica Le Lièvres, a noblewoman on the run from Napoleon—or so I thought. To her I was just a handy snack shack while she hauled ass across the continent. We spent almost a year together before she decided she wanted to keep me and turned me.”

“Wow. I’ve heard of more brutal turnings, but that one?” Brian whistled.

“It wasn’t that bad. Once we left France, we had a wonderful time. We went to Rome, Venice, Austria and even visited Russia. Jessica took care of me, taught me everything I know. Our relationship ended on good terms. I send her Christmas cards every once in a while.”

“How did you meet Greg?”

This time it was Parker who snickered, while Greg yelled at him to shut up. “The only thing I’ll say is it involved Mary Jane, a six-pack and the strangest urge to eat peanut butter and marshmallow bars.”

“I was hungry!”

“I am so worming that story out of you.” Brian chuckled. “So I need to hit the grocery store and stock up on what you need. I’ll pick up one of those diabetic lancet pens so you don’t have to deal with the skanky bagged crap I hear you’ve been adding to your diet. Any preferences? Peanut butter, maybe?”

“Shut up.”

“Green. Leafy. Maple syrupy.”

Oh hell. Had he given Brian something to do? Did that make the man officially his roomie?

Great. Now he had two people willing to mock him and order him around. Just what he needed.

“Got it.” Brian tucked away his PDA. “Thanks for giving me a chance. And if you decide you don’t like me after a month, you can request a change of Renfield, and a new one will be assigned for a trial basis.”

So he only had to live with Brian for one month? Brian didn’t have to tell him that. It was a mark in the man’s favor. “Thanks.”

Brian stood, preparing to go. “Well, it was nice—”

“Wait! Remember, Terri is bloody dangerous. If you see a crazy woman sprouting dandelions, run like hell, got it?”

Brian laughed. “That will be more of a pain than you imagine, since a number of our inhabitants have sprouted something over the years. What does she look like? Can you sketch? I bet I could convince the sheriff to put up a Wanted poster if you like.”

“Oh yes, brilliant idea. Not. Terri has killed anyone who’s tried to stop her.”

“Other than Greg.”

“Greg could protect himself.”

“Damn straight.”

Brian put his hand on Parker’s shoulder. Parker jumped as something passed between the two of them, something strange. Something that brought a look of warmth and satisfaction to Brian’s face. “Don’t worry. We take care of our own around here.” He stepped back, but the connection didn’t break. “Do yourself a favor. Let Amara Schwedler know about this Terri person. I have the feeling she’ll be more than interested in helping you.” Brian winked and sauntered toward the door. “Be back soon.”

Brian shut the door, leaving behind one confused vampire and his little ghost too. “What the fuck?”

“Welcome to Maggie’s Grove?”

Parker rolled his eyes and headed back to the kitchen. “At least he didn’t bring me flowers and a fruit basket.”

“Nope. Just his nubile young self,” Greg purred.

Parker pretended to gag and stuck his fingers in his ears. “Lalalalalalala!”

“Homophobic asshole.”

“Lecherous old goat.”

“You’re pissed because I never tried to bone you.”

“Stay away from my man-bits, perv.”

“You think he likes black men?”

“Sure. But I think he likes them better when they’re capable of passing him the salt.”

“Prick.”

“What did I say about my man-bits?”

“You might want to take your man-bits and aim them out the window.”

Parker would have given Greg a look if he’d been able to see him. “Why?”

“Amara is back.”

Parker was out the back door so fast, not even Greg could keep up.

Amara took a deep breath. A serene smile slowly crossed her face. On nights like this she always felt so alive with the beauty of the mountain above her, the moon shining its silver light across her garden, the crickets chirping their song of spring. She turned, only to find herself staring at a pair of fangs.

“Hi.”

Amara screamed and lashed out, punching the toothy trespasser right in the chest.

“Well. That’s a greeting I’m much more familiar with.” Parker grinned and eased back until he was leaning against the fence. With a bemused look he rubbed the spot she’d nailed.

“Sorry, but you scared the shit out of me.”

He chuckled. “I noticed.”

“You shouldn’t sneak up on people like that. What if I’d had a stake in my hand?”

“I’d be dust in the wind?”

Amara shook her head. Her heart was going a mile a minute.

“You smell wonderful tonight.”

Before she could think twice about it, Amara covered her throat with her hands. “I have the feeling I wouldn’t taste very good.”

His grin turned feral, his fangs peeking out. “Someday I might be the judge of that.”

She tilted her head to the side. “Who says I’d let you?”

His shoulders shook. Was he laughing at her? He seemed oddly happy. “Has the town welcomed you yet?” Brian hadn’t been in Parker’s house as long as she’d thought he would be, but she hadn’t stopped to talk to him. Maybe the two men hadn’t clicked? It could be difficult for a vampire to find the right Renfield, but Brian was among the few she’d trust with someone she cared about. Too bad Dragos already had one, or she would have recommended he take Brian.

He sighed, some of his cheer fading. “Yes, they have, in their unique way.”

She didn’t want him to know she’d been spying on his house earlier. “Who did they send?”

“Hmm?”

“To be your Renfield. Who did they send?”

He blinked, shocked. “Brian Cunningham.”

“Did you like him?”

“Was I supposed to?”

Not quite the answer she’d hoped for, and his wary expression hadn’t changed. Maybe he was waiting to see if he’d bond with Brian? “He’ll take good care of you.”

“So you approve of him?” She nodded, and something in him seemed to ease. “Then I’ll learn to live with him.”

She was charmed her opinion carried such weight. “Have you been to MM Night yet?” She blushed. Of course he hadn’t been yet. He’d only moved in two weeks ago. His nearness had flustered her.

“What’s that?” He stepped forward and took her hand. She allowed it, surprised at how right it felt. The only other person who’d touched her so easily was Glinda. She hadn’t realized until now how much she missed that.

“MM Night is Monster Movie Night. The whole town gathers once a month and puts on an oldie-but-goodie. Then we ridicule it relentlessly and laugh our asses off at how much Hollywood got wrong.”

“Sounds like fun.”

“It is.”

“When is the next one?”

“Tomorrow night.”

“Excellent.” He lifted her hand and kissed the back of it. Butterflies danced through her at the touch of his lips. His faint British accent rolled through her, warming her from the inside out. “Then it’s a date.”

She blinked up at him, shocked. When had she agreed to go out with him? She wasn’t that dazzled by his voice. “Date?”

He bowed. “I look forward to seeing you. Good night, my sweet.”

She opened her mouth to argue, but he kissed the back of her hand again, effectively filling her stomach with those damn butterflies. What on earth was wrong with her? She never had trouble telling a man no.

She watched him walk away, drawn to his strong shoulders and sculpted ass. “Oh boy.” She drifted back into the house and curled up on top of the covers, barely remembering to kick off her shoes first. The memory of Parker’s touch lingered as she tried to drift off.

She had a date. With someone who didn’t have to be blackmailed first.

It shouldn’t have surprised her when she smiled, but it did.

Chapter Three

“I have a date tonight.”

“The pretty next door? What did you do, use your freaky vampire powers and cloud her mind until she said yes?”

Parker ignored Brian’s choked-off chuckle. Already Brian and Greg had teamed up against him, damn them, and it had only been a day. “No, I did not use my freaky vampire powers. I used my freaky British powers. I speak, and women fall in droves.” He struck a dramatic pose and waited.

“Yeah, they do. Fall on their asses laughing.”

Brian looked up from the mail he was sorting. He’d taken over the kitchen table temporarily until Parker could get him a desk. No way was Brian taking over his. Parker had everything exactly the way he wanted it, so the Renfield would need his own workspace. “I’ve always been a sucker for an accent.” He shivered and waggled his brows. “There’s something about a man drawling naughty words in an Aussie accent while he—Ahem. Never mind.” Brian bit his lip and fingered the mail. Parker didn’t want to know what Brian was remembering. It might scar him for life.

Greg’s low snarl made Brian grin secretively. Brian buried himself back in the mail, but not before Parker caught his quickly hidden look of satisfaction.

Why Parker was getting mail all of a sudden was a mystery, since he’d had none since he moved in. Maybe the city council had held on to it until his lackey—er, Renfield—was properly in place. While Parker slept, Brian had quietly moved into the bedroom next to his office. When Parker had gotten up that evening and headed to the kitchen in nothing but a pair of boxers, Brian had already been sitting at his kitchen table and flirting with his ghost.

Parker smoothed his hair one last time, eager to begin his date. “How do I look?”

“Edible.”

Parker rolled his eyes as Brian once more choked off a laugh. “Thank you. I think.” Greg had never commented on his looks when he was alive. He wondered if Brian’s presence had anything to do with the change. “What time does MM Night start again?”

Brian looked at his watch. “You have half an hour. Do you need a bite before you go?”

“Might not be a bad idea. I wouldn’t want to try to munch a philodendron on the way. Might confuse my date.”

“Maybe. Maybe not.” Brian pulled out a bottle of maple syrup and poured it into the blender. The familiar routine sent a pang through Parker. He remembered Greg standing just so, smirking as he prepared Parker’s nightly meal. “Carnations or roses tonight?”

“Roses, I think.” Parker snipped some leaves and added them to the syrup.

Brian picked up the lancet pen and pricked his finger with practiced ease, then added a few drops of blood to the mixture. “Anything else?”

“That should do it.”

Brian put the lid on the blender. “Look, there’s something you need to know about Amara.”

Brian’s concern was worrisome. “What’s wrong?” Parker was ready to dash next store and check on her.

“She’s…different.” He sighed. “Look, not everyone in town likes her. She’s—damn it, how do I say this?”

“Please tell me she’s not crazy.”

Brian rolled his eyes. “No, far from it. But Glinda kept her kind of isolated, and she’s had a rough time because of it. She doesn’t have a lot of friends, despite being one of the sweetest women I know. I don’t claim to understand what Glinda was thinking, but I do know she adored Amara, so she was trying to protect her somehow.”

“Was Amara in danger?” Parker leaned against the countertop and stared out the window at the Victorian.

Brian tapped the top of the blender. “Glinda never married or had children of her own. She was pretty old when Amara came into her life, and she saw Amara as her daughter. It’s possible she was protecting her from a threat that wasn’t real. Of all the people I know, Amara is the one I trust most to take care of herself, but you’ve seen her. She looks like a stiff breeze would blow her away.”

“Has anyone laid a hand on her?” Parker’s beast rumbled, ready to shed blood for her.

Brian bit his lip. “Not that I’m aware of.” He sighed. “Look, I just thought you should know you might encounter some problems when you go out tonight.”

Parker smiled viciously. “No. I won’t.” He’d make sure Amara had the best time possible tonight, even if he had to bang a few heads together.

“If you say so.” Brian hit Liquefy, stifling any further conversation until the loud sounds of the blender died down. Brian poured the concoction into a mug and handed it to him with a flourish. “Drink up.”

Parker took the first sip. “It’s good.” He swallowed some more, enjoying the energy that raced through him. “Thank you.” Brian flushed with pleasure. “You’ve done something like this before.”

Brian smiled. “Usually they want my neck, not my blender skills. But yeah, I was a Renfield for another vamp, however he decided he’d rather have someone else.”

“Why?”

Brian cupped his hands in front of his chest. “My tits weren’t big enough.”

“Ah.” Parker finished off his drink and rinsed out the mug. “Will you be at MM Night?”

“I certainly will. I promised to show Greg around town afterward if you don’t need us.”

Parker blinked. “Really?”

Was Brian…blushing? “Really.”

“All right, then.” Parker hoped his astonishment wasn’t written all over his face. “I’m off to pick up Amara. Do me a favor and put the blender in the dishwasher before you go, and I’ll see you later.”

“Bye, Parker.”

“Have a good time. I know I will.”

Once again he’d swear Brian was blushing. “Oh dear.” Parker left and headed toward Amara’s, determined to put the vision of Brian making out with thin air out of his head. He didn’t understand how a relationship between them would work. Greg was completely dead, not mostly dead like Parker. They couldn’t hold each other or make love to each other.

Greg’s heart was going to get broken, and Parker didn’t know how to prevent it.

Hell. Greg would have to figure it out for himself. If Greg had met someone who was willing to overlook his handicap, who was Parker to interfere?

Maybe he’d even met that one he’d spent his whole life looking for and never found. If that turned out to be true, Parker would happily live with comments about his ass for the rest of his days. Hell, he’d turn the Renfield so both men would be with him for eternity. He grinned, pleased with the thought that he’d never have to go through losing Greg again.

He walked up to Amara’s door and paused. If he were capable of it, his palms would have been sweating. “I have a date.” An entire herd of moose stampeded through his stomach. For a moment he wondered if Brian had slipped some cactus into his nightly meal.

He checked around, using all his senses. He had to keep Amara safe, which meant doubling his efforts to keep Terri away from her. If Terri found out how much he wanted Amara, she’d find a way to make the woman suffer.

Instant rage, familiar and deadly, filled him at the thought of Terri touching her. His beast would rip the witch limb from limb if anything happened to her.

He rapped on the door and did his best to ignore the disturbing urge to hunt Terri down and keep her from ever placing a cursed hand on Amara.

Amara jumped at the sound of the knock. Parker was here.

She had a date.

She was going to hyperventilate. What the hell was she thinking? These things never worked out, not once her dates found out who Amara really was. Few people fully accepted her, and the ones who did were outcasts of one kind or another. Rock was an earth elemental who rarely left the mountains and his quiet home. Brian was a sensitive who could sense, see and touch ghosts, an ability that freaked out even the most powerful psychics. And she couldn’t begin to describe Selena’s freaky powers or Dragos’s unique issues.

How could she expect Parker, a normal, average vampire, to understand her special needs? She should send him home. Or better yet, find some other female to amuse him for a while. Hell, maybe he’d fall in love with that other female. Maybe they’d bond, forming that unique, magical vampire marriage that was so rare and special.

And maybe Amara would find that female and bury her where she’d never be found. She knew lots of places to stash a body.

She bit her lip, shocked at her thoughts. There was something more than just a simple date going on here.

The knock came again, more insistent this time. Parker wouldn’t wait forever.

Did she open the door, deal with the man on the other side and wait to get her heart broken? Or did she let him think she wasn’t home, let him leave for the movie, maybe even commune with her tree once more until he forgot all about her and found someone else?

Her fists clenched without conscious thought. No way could she let Parker find someone else. She didn’t know why, but the thought brought out the same instincts those fucking tree-choking weeds did. She’d obliterate anyone who laid hands on her Parker.

She stepped back, thoroughly scared. Her Parker?

The front door opened, and Parker stepped inside, incredibly sexy in a red silk shirt and dark-washed jeans. His eyes gleamed, and his lips curled in a sensuous smile as his heated gaze drifted down her body like a caress. “Your door was unlocked.”

No, it wasn’t. She distinctly remembered locking it before taking her shower. She didn’t know who might decide to drop in. Both Rock and Dragos had the disturbing habit of showing up on her couch unannounced. If she didn’t know them so well, she’d have thought they were interested in her, but Rock was in love with a shy water elemental, and Dragos was involved with a bitch Amara couldn’t stand. “That door was locked, Parker.”

He blinked, the innocence he strove for completely lacking, thanks to the grin that threatened to overwhelm him. “Was it?”

She bit her lip. Somehow she knew he wasn’t there to hurt her. If Glinda could hear Amara’s thoughts, she would have her hide, but on this one she was going to go on instinct. “Don’t I have to invite you in?”

He chuckled and shut the door. “Monster Movie Night, remember? We mock how much Hollywood gets wrong. That’s one you should definitely giggle at.” He stood before her, touching his chest to hers, curling his fingers around hers. “You look exquisite.”

She was trembling. Why was she trembling? “So do you.”

She’d swear he was laughing at her, but when she started to glare up at him, his expression was solemn. “Thank you.” He lifted first one hand, then the other, placing soft kisses on her fingertips, and her knees damn near gave out. “Are you ready, my sweet?”

She nodded before she could stop herself.

“Good. I look forward to seeing the movie. Do you know what’s playing tonight?” He reached over to her coatrack and wrapped her favorite sweater around her shoulders.

“The Howling. The weres insisted, since last month was The Haunting of Hill House and the month before that was The Craft. Next month we’re probably going to do The Guardian again, although my vote is for The Day of the Triffids.”

“What about Attack of the Killer Tomatoes?”

“The theater won’t show it anymore. It took forever to get the stains out.”

He paused before pulling her door shut. He took the keys from her and locked it. “Stains?”

“We started throwing tomatoes at the screen, the projector, each other. By the time the movie was over, the theater looked like Little Italy had puked all over it.”

He shook his head and held out his elbow. “Shall we?”

She took his arm and began walking. “It’s about five blocks to Main, then another three to the theater.”

“A lovely stroll with a lovely woman,” he whispered in her ear. She’d have thought he was just being polite if not for the fact that he nibbled on her earlobe when he was done.

She shrugged, brushing him off. “Do I need some Vamp-Be-Gone?”

He gasped. “I’m wounded. Again. And here I am, taking you to the theater, making sure you aren’t molested—”

“—by anyone other than you.” She was beginning to enjoy this. He was flirting with her.

With her!

She couldn’t remember the last time that had happened.

“That should be obvious.” He sniffed arrogantly, and she didn’t know whether to laugh or scream for help.

“Tell me something.” They turned onto Main, and she knew she wouldn’t have much time, but the question had been circling in her mind ever since he’d asked her to movie night.

“Anything.”

“Why me?” When his steps faltered, she continued. “I’m curious. I mean, most vamps take one sniff, wrinkle their noses and move on to the O-positive set. You have to know I’m not human, so why me?”

“Will you answer my question if I answer yours?”

She nodded. Everyone in town knew who and what she was, so it wasn’t like he couldn’t find out, now that he’d been accepted by the council.

“What can I say? To me, you smell divine.” She opened her mouth to protest his lame answer, but he placed his finger over her lips. He halted and gently asked, “What are you?”

She huffed out a breath. “I’m a dryad.” Another dryad saw her coming and, as usual, crossed the street without acknowledging her. She hid her wince and hoped Parker hadn’t noticed.

His eyes grew wide and wild. “Really,” he breathed. It was like she’d handed him Christmas, his birthday and an all-you-can-eat porn star rolled into one. From the way he swallowed, he might have started drooling.

I am in big trouble. “Yes, really.”

“Well. That explains quite a bit.” He started walking forward again, a curiously satisfied expression. “I was cursed by a witch to drink only green, leafy blood.”

This time she was the one who drew to a halt. She ignored the man behind her who muttered “Freak” before walking around her, instead focusing on what Parker had just said. “That’s…different. How did she manage that, and why aren’t you dead of starvation?”

“Long story, one I promise we’ll go into after the movie.” He stared into her eyes. “If you’ll allow me, that is.”

She swallowed hard. “I should warn you. I’m slightly more than a dryad.”

He nodded. “And I’m a freak among monsters.” He smiled and threaded their arms together again. He didn’t seem to notice the unfriendly stares they were attracting. “I think we’ll get along fine.”

There was a brief moment at the concession stand where Parker thought he would have to fight a werewolf over Amara’s popcorn. The were had snarled at her, and only backed away when Parker snarled back. Amara’s apprehension had him pulling away before a real fight could begin. The were let it go also, joining his friends with a sneer.

He didn’t get it. The popcorn didn’t smell that good, and Amara hadn’t done anything to deserve such a reaction. When they took their seats toward the back of the theater, several people got up and moved away, giving them wary looks. Parker kept his arm around Amara, eager to show her at least one person in the theater was happy to be with her.

The movie, on the other hand, turned out to be incredibly fun, especially when the werewolves decided to howl at totally inappropriate moments and hurl insults at the screen. Watching the on-screen werewolves shape-shift with crackling bones and melting faces while their terrified victims screamed seemed particularly amusing to them. A few of the real weres growled at that part, but Parker didn’t want to know what that was about.

He always wondered why the victims didn’t run. Who would be that dumb? If Parker was faced with something that could easily kill him but took twenty minutes to change shape in order to do it, no way in hell would he stand there screaming. He’d haul ass and get as far away as he could. He shook his head. You might as well carry ketchup packets in your pocket in case the monster wanted some condiments while he gnawed your face off.

There was a mock fight in the audience between one of the werewolves and a woman who smelled like a clean, crisp waterfall. The werewolf won by the simple argument that when your tongue is busy dueling with someone else’s, you can’t yell anymore. “Mates?”

“Mm-hmm.” Amara snuggled close, giggling when the werewolf slung the woman over his shoulder, saluted his friends and strode out of the theater. “She’s been dealing with some pollution in her pond, and it made her cranky. This was a good way for her to get some of that out without hurting her mate.”

Parker’s head tilted. “Her pond?”

“She’s a naiad.”

“Oh. That explains the way she smells.”

Her eyes literally lit up, the green glow startling him. “You like the way she smells?” The rumbling tone of her voice startled him even more.

“It’s refreshing, but it isn’t you.” He licked a long line up her neck, enjoying her shiver. “No one is you.”

The glow died down. Amara smiled, one of those satisfied, mysterious smiles that went right to Parker’s cock and perked it up in the best of ways. He shifted in his seat. He didn’t want her to notice how badly he wanted to strip her down and have her right there and then. He didn’t want to scare her off, but he also didn’t want her thinking the only thing he wanted from her was an occasional date.

He was beginning to think he might want everything.

“Ice cream after the movie?”

Parker stared at his date. She’d forgotten he was a vampire for at least one moment in time, and he was tickled pink. “Does it come in A-positive carnation-maple-walnut?”

Her expression was completely serious. “I don’t know. We can check the menu.”

It was Parker’s turn to be startled. “You’re kidding me.”

She smiled. “Nope. Your…unusual difficulties are probably all over town by now. I’m sure some of the merchants have already taken it into account.”

He blinked. “Shit.” He wasn’t sure if this town creeped him the hell out or if he’d found his special slice of American pie. “That’s—” he noticed the looks some of the audience were giving him and changed his answer accordingly, “—neighborly.”

The weres smiled and turned their attention back to the movie. Parker sank in his seat and prayed none of the furry set took it into their heads to teach him the true meaning of neighborly, were-style. While he could take on a few of them, he had no desire to take on all of them.

Amara hid her face in her hands. Even over the howling wolves and screaming idiots on the screen, he could hear her giggles.

“It’s not funny.”

“Yes, it is.” She lifted her head and looked at him. Her eyes were dancing, her lips curled, her cheeks flushed. She looked beautiful.

Could anyone blame him for stealing a kiss? He didn’t think so. He couldn’t remember ever being tempted by a woman’s lips this badly. Kissing the laughter from those full lips almost took top priority. First, of course, was getting a taste of Amara.

And damn if she didn’t taste delicious, as he’d expected. Whether it was her dryad blood, her “something more” or the fact that he was kissing Amara, he wasn’t sure, but he could easily become addicted.

The best part? She hadn’t frozen up on him, hadn’t tried to stop the kiss. No, she parted her lips, inviting him inside the lush warmth of her mouth, dueling with his tongue until the only thing he could hear was the beating of her heart. She grabbed his biceps and pulled him as close as the theater seat would allow. He followed where she led, more than ready to move with her.

“Go, Parker. Go, Parker. It’s your birthday. It’s your birthday.”

Parker froze. His eyes flew open. Oh no. No way. They couldn’t be.

“Be nice, Greg.”

Fuck. They were.

He ripped his mouth from Amara’s and glared over his shoulder. Brian sat with his arm around an empty seat, his attention seemingly riveted to the screen.

“Parker?”

He turned back to Amara. “Ah. Brian and Greg are behind us.”

She waved. “Hello, Brian.”

“Amara. How are you this evening?”

“Fine. You?”

“Good. This is my, um, friend Greg.” Brian pointed toward the empty seat, an adorable blush staining his cheeks. His normally pristine hairstyle was mussed, and his lips were swollen. Parker had to wonder what they had been up to before Greg had made their presence known.

“Greg?”

Parker’s head fell back against his seat. “My Casper.”

“Hey!”

Brian’s laugh was almost as loud as the howl the weres sent up as the bad guy was finally defeated.

“Oh. Nice to meet you, Greg.” She held out her hand to the empty seat, pretending to shake someone else’s hand.

“Parker? What the hell is she doing?”

“Shaking your ectoplasm.”

“That’s my job,” Brian muttered, but there was laughter in his voice.

“Well.” Parker clapped his hands loud enough to make some of the surrounding audience jump and grinned weakly at Amara. “Not that this isn’t humiliating or anything—”

“I’m having a good time.”

“—but would you like to get out of here?”

Amara stood and grabbed her purse. “Have fun, Brian.” She waved goodbye to the empty seat, stealing a bit more of Parker’s heart. “Nice meeting you, Greg.”

“You too.”

Parker shook his head and followed Amara out of the theater. So much for our first date. He hoped she’d be up for a second, and a third.

Was it too soon to ask her to move in?

Amara pointed toward the ice-cream parlor. “It’s open late on MM Night. So is the candy store. Sometimes we leave hungry despite the free popcorn.”

“Hmm. I’m not certain they’ll have anything for me.”

“What’s the worst that can happen? You go home without ice cream?” She grabbed his hand and dragged him inside. “Quick, before everyone else gets here.” She did a goofy victory dance when she saw the place was empty. “Yes! We’re first in line.”

Parker sighed but allowed himself to be danced along. She got the impression he was used to leading.

“Evening, Ken.” Amara smiled at the teenager behind the counter. The Madisons were one of the few families around town who treated her as if she were like everyone else, and for that they had Amara’s undying loyalty. “Can I have Chocolate-Covered Cherry, please?” Amara bounced at the counter. She loved ice cream; it was a special treat for special nights. Even after Glinda’s death she’d continued the practice, rewarding herself with the creamy delight when something good happened in her life.

Tonight was special, and she deserved her special treat.

“Got anything both bloody and green and leafy?” Parker didn’t sound very enthusiastic, but Ken nodded.

“Dr. Hollis, right? I’ve got something you might like. You’ll have to let me know if we can improve it, though.”

Parker’s expression was comical. “You actually have an ice cream you think I can eat?”

“Well, it’s technically not ice cream per se, but…well. You’ll see.” Ken disappeared into the back room and returned with a cone with one scoop of something swirling with colors. Reddish-brown, dark green and tannish-gold warred with one another. The scent had Amara wrinkling her nose, but Parker practically salivated. “My Goddess. That actually smells good.”

Ken looked relieved. “Thanks. My dad came up with the recipe. We modified the standard How Green Is Your Love? by combining it with Here’s Blood in Your Eye. Oh, and there’s some Maple Madness in there too.”

Parker gaped, his expression reverent. “It’s the supernatural Ben and Jerry’s.”

Ken laughed as Parker got down on his knees and prostrated himself before the counter. “Thanks! I’ll tell my dad to keep it in stock.” He rang them up, and he waved goodbye when Parker paid. “Enjoy your ice cream, Dr. Hollis. Amara.”

Parker waved his cone. “You can call me Parker.”

The kid nodded and waved to the next person in line. “Hey, Mr. Wulfenbach. What can I get you?”

Amara was careful not to bump into the werewolf alpha. He didn’t snarl and snap at her like some of the others, but she’d hardly call him warm and fuzzy either. And he’d never done anything to make the rest of the pack back off when they took it into their heads to get really annoying. “Hair of the Dog, kid.”

“Coming right up.”

Parker held open the door for her. “Wow. You guys take your ice cream seriously.”

Amara licked her cone. Yum. “You have a problem with that?”

“Hell no.”

She didn’t understand his rough tone. She licked another side of the ice cream, allowing the rich flavor to burst on her tongue. She moaned at the rich, creamy goodness. “Mmm. This is delicious.”

“Remind me to buy an ice-cream maker.”

She looked up at him. His gaze was glued to her mouth. His cone was beginning to drip down his hand. “Lick it.” He blinked, and she realized what she’d said. She could feel her cheeks heating. “Your ice cream—it’s melting. Lick it.”

He did, moving his tongue along his hand and back up to the ice cream, circling the creamy tip. His eyes never left hers. Amara’s nipples were rock hard by the time he was done.

“You’re right. This is incredibly good.”

Somehow she knew he wasn’t talking about the ice cream.

“Uh. Yeah.”

He smiled, the look so smug, so male, she wanted to kick him. “So. The curse. Greg. The idea that dryads are tasty morsels. Inquiring minds want to know.”

He cleared his throat. For the first time since she’d met him, he looked uncomfortable, and she had to wonder why. “Let’s finish our ice cream first, shall we?”

“It’s going to take a while, I gather.”

“You gather correctly.”

They walked in silence, each concentrating on their cones. Okay, Parker was concentrating on his cone. Amara’s attention wavered between her treat and Parker’s mouth.

She was really coming to like his mouth.

He finished first and tossed the cone into one of the trash cans that lined the streets, then licked the sticky mess from his hand. “That was good. Thank you for taking me there.”

She blushed in pleasure. “Make sure you let Ken know if you think it could be better.” She looked up at him from under her lashes, shy now that they were almost home. “And you’re welcome.”

“I will.” He stretched, the fabric of his shirt pulling taut over his chest, and Amara’s heart rate sped up again. “Are you all right?”

“Mm-hmm.” She devoured her ice cream, barely tasting it before it was gone, and tried to ignore his slow grin. They walked up the steps to Amara’s home. “May I come in?”

“Will you explain everything to me? And I mean everything.”

“I’ll do my best.” His thumbs were hooked in his belt loops, and his sexy grin morphed into an embarrassed one.

“You’d better.” She didn’t know why, but damn it, she not only wanted him, she trusted him. He intrigued her, and she was determined to find out why. She unlocked the door and led the way. “I’d offer you a drink, but—”

“That’s all right. I’m full.” Parker gestured toward the couch. “Perhaps we should get comfortable. The tale of my rampant stupidity might take a while.”

She sat and waited for him to settle next to her. “All right. You have my attention.”

“Long ago, during the age of hippies and free love, I was an idiot.”

Amara did her best not to smile.

“Why do I have the feeling you’re wondering what’s changed?” He held up his hand. “Don’t answer that. Please. Greg is more than happy to point out my flaws in perpetuity. I believe it might be why he decided on an afterlife after death, so he could continue to tell me I told you so.” Parker ran his fingers through his hair. “During a bonfire in the desert I met a woman, a young hippie named Terri. And no, she hadn’t changed her name to something like Moonflower or Starlust or anything like that.”

“Starlust?”

“You’d be amazed how many people ask me that. Like all of us went around calling ourselves Moonpuppy or something. Anyway, she was pretty, she danced like a dream and she thought my accent was groovy. Greg disliked her from the first, but I found myself watching her more and more, until eventually we wound up sleeping together.”

Okay. Amara really didn’t like this part of the story. She doubted much sleeping had gone on, and picturing it made fire burn in her belly, the kind that had her ripping out weeds by the roots.

Not good.

“I thought it was another one of those things—two people coming together in an LSD haze of good feeling and good feeding. Terri thought it was more. When she realized I was ready to move on, she kidnapped me.”

“How?” Kidnapping a vampire was damn near impossible.

“She used magic. Terri, as it turns out, is a witch.”

And that was why it was only nearly impossible. “Damn. That goes against the Rede.”

“An it harm none, do as thou wilt? I believe Terri was beyond that point before I ever met her. By the time she cursed me, there was no way she was white or gray. She had to be black.” And black witches, those practitioners who put their personal gain above anything else, were one of the most feared creatures in the world. Selfish and brutal in their attempts to satisfy all their cravings, dark practitioners lived for nothing and no one but themselves. “She brewed a potion that would change my diet and force me to become dependent on her for sustenance. When I struggled to get away, I knocked the chalice containing the potion and splashed us both. Now I’m cursed to drink nothing but green, leafy blood, and Terri is…a monster.”

“Monster?”

“She sprouts.”

“I sprout.”

“Not like you. It’s not natural. She smells vile and looks worse. She’s… Damn. How do I describe her?”

“She’s a weed?”

“That’s one way, I suppose. I’d go with pond slime myself.”

Amara wrinkled her nose. “Ew.”

“Exactly. What’s worse, she’s killed the few women I’ve tried to establish relationships with. She’s bloody dangerous, and I’m a complete pillock for putting you in danger this way.”

“What does pillock mean?”

She didn’t know vampires could blush like that. “It means idiot. Asshole. Someone who’s done something extraordinarily stupid.”

“Oh.” Her eyes were glowing, but she didn’t care. A weed was trying to kill Parker. “Don’t worry about it. I know how to deal with weeds. What I don’t understand is why you haven’t killed her.”

Frustration, confusion, anger—they were easy to read in Parker’s face. “I have no idea. Whenever she comes close to me, I run like some pigtailed girl being chased by the boogeyman. I want desperately for this to end, but every time I think about killing her…” He shuddered and paled. “I think something about the curse stays my hand.” The feel of Parker’s hand on hers calmed her, settled the raging inferno inside her. “You have to know I’m very interested in you.”

He’d made it clear he wanted more than ice cream and an occasional movie date, and from the way she reacted to him, her answer was obvious. “Me too.”

“You’re interested in you? Not necessarily a bad thing.”

She rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean.”

“I do. But I need to know. Are you willing to see where this goes, knowing Terri will more than likely go after you because of me?” He picked up her hand and kissed her fingertips. “I will do everything in my power to protect you, but she could get to you when I’m not here.”

“You’re giving me the choice? I thought macho men made all the safety decisions when it came to the womenfolk. You know, ‘Grunt, grunt. Get in house wo-man.’ Followed by the inevitable beating of hairy chests.” She’d read Glinda’s stash of romance novels. She knew the way these things worked. He was supposed to go all emo and declare her off-limits, then flirt with another girl to convince Amara he meant it. Then he’d be forced to rescue her and work hard to get her back. Why wasn’t he following the script?

“We’ve come a long way, baby. You told me you’re something more than a dryad, and frankly? We live in a town of supernaturals who have apparently decided that they like me. I know they must like you. It would be hard not to.”

She chose not to disabuse him of that notion. He’d find out soon enough. Then he’d have some decisions to make, like whether she was worth the harassment he’d suffer when the townsfolk found out who he was dating. Their attitude had ruined the few relationships she’d tried to have.

“Therefore, the odds are excellent that we might be able to get some help from our neighbors. The choice is yours.”

“Hmm. Let me think.” She was in his lap, her arms wrapped around his neck, her thighs straddling his. She would enjoy this while it lasted, because once he realized what a freak show she was, he’d be out the door in a flash, vegetarian vampire or not. This might be her only chance to feel him under her. “Done.”

He held her hips. “I take it that’s a yes?”

Here goes. “I want you to know something first.”

“What?”

“When I told you I’m not a normal dryad, I meant it.”

“You’re a Republican?” he gasped.

She rolled her eyes and bopped him on the head. “No. I’m rarer than a dryad Republican.”

“Dear Goddess, that is rare. So? What are you?”

“I’m not sure if you’d believe me if I told you.”

“Then show me.”

Show him? Did she trust him that much?

She looked down into his expectant, patient eyes and knew. Yes, she already trusted him that much. It was a scary thing, to realize she trusted a man she’d known for so short a time. “You know, I don’t get it. Why do I have the urge to share my darkest secrets with you?”

“You do?”

“Yeah.” Far too comfortable to move, she couldn’t bring herself to climb off his lap. The awkwardness she’d experienced with previous partners was absent, and that in itself was strange—and alarming.

He stroked her hips, soothing her. “Odd. I feel the same. Do you want to slow things down?”

No. “Maybe.” Why did she say that? The last thing she wanted was to scare Parker away. If he left, she might never get another chance, especially with someone this hunkalicious. Parker placed her on her feet, rubbing her skin with his thumbs. The slight calluses from working in The Greenhouse scraped across her skin, heightening the sensation. It was sexy as hell. “This is temporary, just so you know. I have every intention of pursuing a relationship with you since I have your permission. I do, don’t I?” He pressed an all-too-brief kiss to her lips when she nodded. “Dinner tomorrow?”

Thank the Goddess he hadn’t been put off by her stupidity. “Yes.”

She loved the way her answer lit him up. “Good. I’ll pick you up after sunset.”

She walked him to the door. Part of her wanted to rip his clothes off so they could rut like bunnies, but maybe taking it slow wasn’t a bad idea. She could wait a night or two before diving into his pants. “I’m looking forward to it.”

He stroked her cheek, leaving behind a shivering awareness of his touch that lingered long after his flesh had left hers. “So am I.” He graced her with one last heated smile and walked out the door, whistling. “Amara?”

“Hmm?”

“I do like this town.” He strolled over to his house, whistling the entire way. Her gaze never left him, guarding his steps till he was safely inside.

She had more than one thing in Maggie’s Grove to protect now, and she had a few good ideas on how to do that. Behind her, the branches of her tree swayed, though no wind blew.

Chapter Four

Daylight came, and with it, Amara. She stepped into Parker’s garden, knowing her vampire would be asleep at this time of day. “Hello, Brian.”

The Renfield smiled. “I’ve been expecting you. Did he tell you about his problem?”

“There’s a weed that needs pulling.”

Brian coughed. “Ah. I thought you might see it that way.” He stared at her, his expression turning stern. “Is Parker under your protection?”

He was acting as Parker’s Renfield, and Amara couldn’t be happier. “Don’t ask me why, but yes. I plan on having him meet my tree tonight.”

His relief eased her mind that she was doing the right thing. “She’ll like him.”

“I think so too, but until I know for sure, I plan on holding him at a distance.” Of about a foot, but she wasn’t going to tell Brian that. He might be her friend, but he was also Parker’s Renfield. She had no doubt if it came down to it, his loyalties would lie with his vampire.

Not something she could complain about, since it was beginning to feel like that was where her loyalties would lie too.

“Understandable.” He looked around, hands on his hips. “How can I help?”

“Is Greg here?”

“Yes, why?”

“Can you reassure him that what I’m going to do will protect Parker?”

“Of course. He’s right here. He can hear you, remember?”

“I can’t see or hear him.” Psychics—they were the same all over town, always forgetting other people couldn’t see what they did.

Brian’s cheeks reddened. “Sorry. To me, he’s there, almost like you are. Let me guess. You don’t want Parker to know you’re introducing him to your tree, right?”

“Yup.” She twisted her hands together. “Greg? Do me a favor, will you? Don’t say anything either. If Parker knows what to expect, he might not be willing to meet her.”

“I’ve heard meeting a dryad’s tree can be pretty intense.” Brian looked off to his left. “Greg just wants to double-check that there’s no chance this could hurt Parker.”

“I don’t think so. Unless he’s planning on harming me in some way, she’ll only touch his soul. That won’t hurt a bit.”

She’d never seen quite that expression Brian’s face before. It was equal parts disbelief, worry—and was that laughter? “Okay. We’ll make sure he doesn’t suspect a thing.”

“Thanks. I appreciate that.” She turned back toward her garden. “I’ll talk to you later, Bri. I have some things I need to do before I see Parker tonight.”

“Going to your secret garden?”

“You know me so well.”

“Have fun. We’ll see you later.” Brian waved goodbye and sauntered back into Parker’s house.

Amara entered her garden and went for the secret gate that led to the trail through the woods. She wanted to check on the garden she and Glinda had planted all those years ago. She smiled, thinking about the wild forest garden they’d managed to create. It looked like part of the landscape, but each and every plant and decoration had been carefully selected and placed to enhance its beauty rather than compete with it. Stone benches mimicked the rocks around them, with flat surfaces for people to sit and admire the greenery. They’d even thought of putting in a pond or waterfall, but there was no electricity this far from the house, so they’d decided against it. Besides, the garden didn’t need it. It was perfect the way it was, built out of the love Amara and Glinda had shared for the natural world.

It took an hour to reach the garden at the base of the mountain. She stepped from behind the bush that guarded the entrance and came to a screeching halt. “Oh no. Who…? What the hell?”

The garden had been utterly destroyed, the tall trees twisted and broken, their branches hanging limp, leafless and lifeless. The rock benches were cracked and stained with moss. The flowers Glinda had planted lay broken and black on the ground. Nothing lived within the once pleasant grove but moss and lichen. The stench of death was nearly overwhelming. The stone she’d recently set as a memorial to Glinda was cracked in two and covered in lichen; the words of love and loss she’d asked Rock to etch onto its surface, completely obliterated.

The flame in Amara’s heart leaped to life in a frenzy of anger. Whoever had done this would pay. Her head flew back, and Amara screamed her challenge to the sky.

They would pay.

Parker woke the next night with a sense of anticipation he hadn’t felt since…well, since a certain bonfire in the desert all those years ago. Despite the fact that their date wouldn’t go beyond dinner and possibly a few kisses, he was eager to see Amara. Bedding her would have to wait. He had to be at work at midnight, and the first time he made love to Amara would take much longer than a few hours.

It might take days.

He grinned and hopped out of bed, ready to face the night.

“Going somewhere?”

“I have another date with Amara before work.” Parker grabbed his favorite black T-shirt and dark jeans, determined to go casual. He began to strip off the boxers he’d slept in, unconcerned Greg was in the room. They’d been roommates for so long, he didn’t even think twice about it. “Why?”

“No reason.”

The guilty way Greg said it had him pausing. “What do you know that I don’t?”

“Nothing. Really.”

The man never could lie worth a damn. “Greg. Tell me.”

A knock came on the door. “I have a message from Amara, Parker.”

He pulled his boxers back up and answered the door. “What?”

“She says to meet her in her garden.”

“Thank you, Brian.”

“You’re welcome.”

Parker shut the door and proceeded to get dressed. “Greg?”

Curious. I wonder where he’s gotten off to. He’d probably followed when Brian left. Brian and Greg had more than hit it off, even if the logistics of how a ghost and a human could… Well. Thinking about it hurt his brain.

Parker whistled tunelessly on his way down the stairs. “Has anyone seen my boots?” He cocked his head, the only sounds in the house the rapid beating of a heart, a low moan and slick, wet noises that—

“Oh my bloody Goddess.” Parker found his damn boots and raced out of the house. “I did not hear what I thought I heard. No way. Uh-uh.” He shook his head and tried his best to fill it with visions of Amara as he’d seen her last night, licking the ice-cream cone. That thought led to her licking other flesh-colored objects, like one attached to a very happy vampire.

Oh yeah. That did it. He couldn’t wait to see his girl and kiss her silly before heading to work. He reached the gate that led to Amara’s garden and knocked. “Hello? Any dryads home?” A low laugh filled him with warmth. The gate swung open, and there before him stood the object of his lusty thoughts. “Hello, sweet.”

“Hello, sour.”

Oh no. Had he insulted her somehow? Apologize, quick, before she shuts the door! “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“Are you upset with me?”

“Should I be?”

Uh-oh. Not good. Had he done something wrong? “Not that I’m aware of. Did I offend you somehow last night?”

“No, not at all.” She looked stunned.

“And you know I’ve been asleep all day, yes? So I couldn’t have done anything, right?”

“Yes.”

“Then why did you call me sour?”

Her expression cleared. A sunny smile brought out her sweet dimples. He nearly slid in his drool. “Because sweet and sour go together.”

He knew his mouth was open because a gnat flew into it. “Gah.” He coughed, trying to bring the bug back up.

“Oops. It was supposed to make you laugh, not croak.” She pounded on his back with more strength than he’d have given her credit for. Hell, with more strength than he figured a troll would have.

“Ow.”

“Sorry.” She backed off, her face a study in contrasting emotions.

“Go ahead, laugh at me. I’m the one choking to death on a gnat.”

She bit back her laugh manfully. “Come in?”

“Thank you.” He closed the gate and leaned against it. “Let’s try that again, shall we? Hello, sweet.”

“Hello, sour.” She giggled.

He rolled his eyes and pulled her shaking form into his arms. “Someone’s begging for a tickling.”

She wiggled for a second, a mulish expression on her face. “I’m not ticklish.”

M’lady doth protest too much. He curled his fingers and twitched them. She squirmed in his grasp, those huge eyes narrowed dangerously. “I swear, you will regret it.”

Someday he’d go ahead with his dastardly plan to make her giggle until she cried uncle, but for now? He had more important things to do. He leaned down, taking a deeper taste of her than he had the night before, sweeping his tongue between her lips for a hello kiss that left them both wanting more. “Mm. So. Will I regret it?”

“Hmm?” That sexy, mysterious smile was back, the one that made him want to kiss her even more.

So he did, turning until her back was to the gate. She slid her arms around his neck, holding him close, tight almost to the point where he was glad he didn’t have to breathe. His cock throbbed behind his jeans; the need to pull her to the ground and have her, take her was almost overwhelming. He wanted to be inside this woman in the worst way. He moaned against her, thrust his hips forward so she’d know exactly what she did to him.

Her answering groan was music to his ears. His fangs descended in preparation to feast on the precious woman he held in his arms. He needed her like no one else.

His fangs nipped her lip, drawing blood. He reeled as her flavor exploded on his tongue, damn near coming in his pants at the rich, earthy flavor of Amara’s blood. He sucked on the tiny wound he’d inflicted, already addicted to her taste.

Much more of this and he’d be missing work for all the right reasons.

“Stop.”

He pulled back instantly, the loss of her touch painful.

She touched her bleeding lip, her eyes dark and wide. “You bit me.”

He shook his head. “No. My fangs. I nicked you by accident, I swear.” If she sends me away, I might as well greet the dawn.

And that thought terrified him even more.

“I believe you.” The relief that rushed through him was short-lived. “But I need you to meet someone.” She took him to a stunning Schwedler Norway maple crowned in brilliant crimson leaves. “Beautiful.”

She smiled again, and it felt like the moon had come out from behind clouds. “Thank you.”

“This is your tree?” He figured introducing a potential mate to your tree was a big deal for a dryad.

Parker froze. Mate?

He glanced down at the smiling woman beside him and licked his lips. Her taste lingered on his tongue, and he shuddered.

Oh fuck yes. She’s my singele sotiei. Bloody hell. Terri is going to kill her.

“Touch the tree, Parker. She wants to say hello.” A dryad and her tree couldn’t be separated. If Amara accepted him but her tree didn’t, Parker would greet the dawn. He’d have no other choice.

There was no real choice. Parker would do anything his sotiei asked of him. He touched Amara’s tree and found himself sucked into an intellect so alien yet so familiar he felt overwhelmed. That intelligence delved into him, sought out his darkest places, basked in the sunshine he’d managed to hold on to despite his curse and the physical loss of Greg, rooted out his pettiest feelings and his deepest desires. It latched on to his feelings for Amara and turned them inside out, examined them, pulled them apart and put them back together like a child’s toy.

By the time it was done, Parker was ready to drop from exhaustion. The tree withdrew from his thoughts with a final farewell caress that meant he’d been accepted at the deepest levels.

“She likes you. She really likes you.” The pleasure and satisfaction in Amara’s voice mirrored his.

Wonderful. Now if only I can get my legs to work…

“Oh dear.” Amara gasped as Parker hit the ground with a resounding thump. “Oh boy.” She glared at her tree and tapped her foot. “What did you do to him?” Leaves rustled, the maple’s equivalent of soundless laughter. “Uh-huh. Well, at least I’m sure now Parker had nothing to do with what happened in my garden.” A leaf fell, one crimson tear shed for the loss of Amara’s last link to the woman she’d thought about calling mother. “Thank you.”

Maybe she could ask Parker to help her figure out who had done it and why. The townspeople were prime suspects, but they’d never before damaged the garden. Indeed, some of the people who actively disliked her loved that garden and would be as devastated as she was at its loss.

One way or another Amara would get to the bottom of the destruction. The destroyer would hurt when she was done with them. Then she could begin rebuilding the dream she and Glinda had shared. She’d made a start already by clearing away some of the death and destruction. She’d prepare the ground, fertilize it well, and when the growing time came, she’d be there as always. It would take years for the mature trees to grow back, for the plants to spread and thrive.

Amara picked Parker up and slung him over her shoulder, careful to keep his head from bouncing on the ground. He was a foot taller than her, and she didn’t want to accidentally damage him. “I’m taking him home. You be good. We’ll talk when I get back.”

She carted him through the gate and back to his house. “If he can go in without an invitation, then so can I.” She opened his front door, only to shut it again so quickly she feared she’d permanently bruised his right butt cheek. “Or not.” She blinked, trying to erase the sight of a naked Brian bent over the arm of Parker’s leather couch. “I do not want to know.”

She sighed and shifted Parker. He wasn’t all that heavy, but his limp body was terribly awkward. “Guess you’re sleeping at my house tonight. Where do vampires sleep anyway? Do you need a coffin? A pile of dirt? Blackout curtains?” She hoisted him through the door, almost knocking over her antique umbrella stand with his head. She’d better call Dragos. The elder vampire would know what to do.

She carted Parker to her room, hoping her scent would soothe him if he woke up, then headed back downstairs and picked up the phone. She didn’t bother to dial. She didn’t have to. “Dragomir Ibanescu.”

The click of the phone being answered was faint. “Yes, Amara?”

“I have a vegetarian vampire in my bed who’s had a conversation with my tree.”

There was a pause. Then again, whenever Amara called Dragos he paused to process whatever she was telling him. It had long ago ceased to bother her, but she did wonder sometimes why her calls were so unusual. After all, she wasn’t the strangest person he knew, not by a long shot. “And?”

“He’s unconscious.”

“Ah. You are worried he is injured?”

Dragos’s faint accent never failed to send a shiver down her spine. Was that why Parker’s accent was so irresistible? Maybe she had a thing for tall, dark, exotic men with lovely accents. “I don’t know how long he’ll be out or how to keep him safe from the sun.”

“And where is his Renfield?”

“Uhhh—” she coughed, “—busy. Very busy.”

Again one of Dragos’s infamous pauses filled the air. “I see.” He was amused. “Make sure the room you put him in gets little sunlight. Unlike the movies, he won’t combust to ash at the merest touch of Helios’s rays, but he will be very uncomfortable if left in direct sunlight.” The amusement turned to gentle teasing when he added, “He is a plant that requires shade. Too much time in the sun will burn him to a crisp.”

She blew the mayor of Maggie’s Grove the wettest raspberry she could.

“You’re welcome.” The connection cut off, but not before Dragos laughed.

Really. People thought the elder vamp was cold and unfeeling. Amara knew better. Dragos was a friend. Hell, her tree liked him, and that was good enough for her.

Amara dialed Parker’s employer. Now, this was a conversation she was not looking forward to.

“The Greenhouse, Miss Ferguson speaking.”

“Mollie? It’s Amara.”

“Oh. Hello, Amara. Is there a problem?” Mollie’s tone instantly chilled.

“I introduced Parker to my tree, and now he’s unconscious. Was he supposed to work tonight?”

“Yes, he was.” The chill turned to concern. “Does he need a doctor?”

Amara held back her sigh. “No. He’s physically uninjured.”

“Does he need the witchdoctor, then?”

She gritted her teeth and kept her tone polite. “My tree wouldn’t hurt him that way.”

“Amara. I’m sorry, but you are what you are. Should you call Selena?”

“No.”

This time the pause was uncomfortable. She’d much rather talk to Dragos any day. “Tell him to call me when he can return to work.” The chill was back.

“I’ll do that.” Amara hung up without any further words. None were needed. That chore taken care of, she ran a circuit of both her garden and Parker’s. “No weeds. Good.” She dusted her hands off and knocked on Parker’s front door, praying Brian and Greg were finished with whatever they’d been doing, because she really didn’t need to see it again.

The front door opened. Brian, disheveled and happy, had a huge red mark on his neck. “How did you get a love bite?”

He blushed almost as fiery red as the leaves of her tree. “Hello to you too. Where’s Parker?”

“My place. I introduced him to my tree.”

Brian winced. “Oh. He’s out, huh?”

She frowned. “Did you expect that?”

“I bet fifty-fifty odds that he’d go down, yeah. Greg owes me—uh. Never mind.” He rubbed at the hickey. “Did your tree like him?”

“Yes, she did.”

He grinned. “Then I expect I’ll see some love bites on your neck soon.”

Amara covered her lip.

“Ooooh. Did he get a taste?” Brian turned his head, looking at something she couldn’t see. His face softened; his smile gentled. “Yeah, Greg. I’ll ask.” He turned back to her. “Can Greg go check on Parker? He’s worried about him.”

“Of course. He’s in my room. Does Greg need help finding him?”

He tilted his head, listening. “Nope. He has some sort of spiritual connection to Parker, so he knows where he is. He’s just being polite.” Brian’s eyes widened. “You didn’t. You did? Holy crap, Greg! No wonder he calls you his Casper!” And he began to laugh, writhing around like he was having fits. “Stop! Please stop! Uncle!”

“Was he tickling you?”

Brian nodded and wiped his eyes. “Yes, he was. He cast a spell so that when he was reborn, he and Parker would always be able find each other. But he forgot a deathbed spell is much stronger than a usual one, and instead of being reborn—”

“He came back as Parker’s Casper.” Amara grinned. “Something you’re reaping the benefits of?”

Brian caressed his hickey once more. “Yeah.” His hips jerked forward, a startled look crossing his face. “Would you mind very much if I came over too?”

“Sure, not a problem.” Amara stepped aside to let Brian, and presumably Greg, out the door and to her house. “I’m getting my exercise tonight and I haven’t left the same fifty yards.”

“Now you know how a gerbil feels. All you need is a wheel and some—No, wait, we have the wood chips.” He pointed toward the mulch in one of the flower beds.

Amara stared up at him, wondering if the stress had finally gotten to him.

Brian shrugged. “What?”

She led him into her house and to her room. “You’re weird.”

“And you’re not?”

She opened the door, happy to see Parker was sleeping peacefully. “Of course I am. That’s why I fit in so well here.”

Brian winced and stroked her arm in apology. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

“Yeah. I know.” She patted his cheek to let him know his apology was accepted.

The low, inhuman growl that came from the bed startled them both. Amara turned to face a drastically altered Parker. His fangs had dropped; his mouth was lifted in a dangerous snarl. Parker was motionless, his red eyes glued to the man Amara had so innocently touched.

What the hell?

Amara took a step toward Parker and held out her hand. “What’s wrong?”

She was yanked forward so quickly she had no time to react. Parker jerked her beneath him, his clawed hand around her neck. He growled at Brian, but his thumb caressed Amara’s neck just below her pulse.

Was Parker protecting her?

She dug her fingers into his arm. “Parker? It’s all right. Brian’s a friend.” She glanced at Brian and gasped. The Renfield knelt on the floor, with his head back and his eyes closed, baring his neck. He muttered ancient words that soothed Parker. She could feel the tension leaving Parker’s body as the vampire accepted the Renfield’s submissive display.

Or so she thought.

When Parker moved closer, she assumed it was all over, until she saw that his eyes were still glowing red, still focused on the Renfield.

His fangs pierced her neck before she could blink.

Amara’s whole body bowed. White-hot pain shrieked through her, followed so quickly by mind-searing pleasure so intense, she never wanted it to end. Long pulls at her neck pulsed through her, like hands intimately caressing every part of her body. She wrapped her legs around Parker, desperate to get closer, to climb into him the way she did her tree and meld them together until she didn’t know where she ended and he began.

In the background Brian continued his chant, but she didn’t care about Brian or Greg or anything but the pleasure rolling through her. She grabbed Parker’s head and held him in place, offering herself up to him, letting him take his fill. Whatever he needed, whenever he needed, if she could provide, she would so long as he didn’t stop. She was on the edge of orgasm, so close she could taste it. She needed something to push her over into ecstasy. The door shut with a quiet click, giving her and Parker privacy.

Claws ripped through her jeans, scratching long lines down her legs. She noticed his jeans were off when she reached down to clasp his ass and touched firm, bare flesh. Parker buried himself inside her in one powerful thrust, and Amara shrieked, coming so hard the room went dark.

“More.” The gravelly voice was barely recognizable as Parker’s, the red glow of his eyes barely dimmed by the feeding and the fucking. Not that Amara was complaining. The feel of Parker inside her was insane, incredible. Warm and hard and so deep she could practically taste him.

“More,” she agreed, pulling him even closer. She thrust up against him, uncaring that her strength might be more than he could handle.

It turned out it wasn’t. He smiled at her, his teeth stained with her blood, his eyes bright as he pounded into her so hard the bed almost danced across the floor. A mortal woman would have been bruised, possibly injured. Even another dryad would have had trouble taking the force of Parker’s thrusts.

Thank the Goddess she wasn’t normal, because she was loving every minute of Parker’s fucking. She gave as good as she got, arching against him, tugging at him, tearing his shirt from his back so she could feel the muscles flex and bunch under her palms. “Fuck me, Parker. Harder.”

That low, menacing growl was aimed at her, but she wasn’t afraid. He was giving everything he was to her and she reveled in the gift.

Amara was enthralled. This was someone whose strength was a match for hers, whose fear wouldn’t hold him back.

This was a mate worthy of her.

Her orgasm built again, ripping through her. She barely had time to take breath before she was robbed of it, every muscle in her body clenching with the force of her pleasure. This time she dragged him along with her, pulling his orgasm from him in a rippling tide that left them damp, limp and sated to their toes. He collapsed on top of her and buried his head in the pillow beside her neck, caressing her damp skin.

When Parker finally lifted his head, his gaze was back to warm brown. “Fuck.”

“Mm-hmm.” Amara pressed a kiss to Parker’s sweaty neck, damn near purring in sleepy satisfaction.

“Did I hurt you?”

Something in Parker’s tone disturbed the humming pleasure throbbing through her. “No.”

“Good.” He was so relieved she had to wonder if he’d ever accidentally hurt anyone during sex, but that didn’t seem like the Parker she knew.

“I’m fine. Hell, I’m better than fine. You blew my mind.” She pushed his hair back from his damp forehead and grinned when he licked the twin pinpricks on her neck. “Thank you.”

He snorted. “You’re thanking me? For what?”

“You’ll see.”

He huffed a laugh. “That doesn’t sound ominous, does it?”

She pinched his side, delighted when his laugh deepened. “What was that all about, anyway?”

“Oh Lord. Brian—did I hurt him?”

She shook her head. “He’s fine. He did some freaky chanting thing, and your attention turned toward me.”

He froze. “I was that far gone?”

Okay, this was getting weird, even for her. “Care to explain?”

The look he gave her would have been scary if his cock weren’t buried, hard as a rock despite the mind-blowing orgasm, inside her. “Weres aren’t the only supernaturals with a beast inside them.”

“And?”

“He didn’t like you and Brian touching.”

It only took her a moment to figure out what had brought out his beast. “You felt possessive of me.” He nodded and pulled out and away, his expression closed off.

He thinks I’m going to reject him. Little did he know, she planned to get some strong, thick chains and tie his ass to the bed until she could experience his brand of loving again. “Brian is a friend and, more important, your Renfield. He thought he’d hurt my feelings, and was apologizing. I was accepting the apology.”

“And can you accept mine?”

“You didn’t hurt me.” She stroked his cheek. “Far from it.”

“I acted like a caveman.”

“You acted the way your nature dictates. If I got angry with the robin for singing, what good would it do?”

He ran his hands through his hair and sighed. “I’m more than my beast. I should have had better control than that.”

“Were you fully awake when you saw us?”

He grimaced, thoroughly frustrated and disgusted with himself. “No.” Not at all the look she wanted to see right after he’d made love to her.

“Well then. The beast took over and protected me from a perceived rival.” She shrugged. “You didn’t hurt Brian. You didn’t hurt me. Hell, I loved what we did. Couldn’t you tell?”

“Are you sure?”

She stared up at him. “Other than I think you should apologize to Brian for scaring the bejesus out of him for nothing? Yeah, I’m sure.” She tugged on his arm as hard as she could, enchanted when bones didn’t snap. He really is my match. “Can we go again?”

He blinked. “Again?”

“Yes.” She frowned when she realized his cock had gone flaccid. “Again.” Hmm. What could she do to make it nice and hard? She bit her lip and took a firm hold. She rubbed her thumb over the flared head, pleased when he growled his pleasure. Oh. There we go. He warmed up for her nicely, twitching and growing beneath her palm.

The first glimmer of humor appeared on his face, and Amara relaxed. “I think I can have another go at it.”

“Good.” Amara continued to stroke him until he was as hard as the first time. “Because I’m planning on this time being even better.”

He gulped. “Better?”

“Mm-hmm.” She flipped him onto his back and straddled him. “It’s my turn now, cowboy.”

“Yee-haw.” He grabbed her hips, steadying her. “Saddle up, pardnur.”

She giggled. It didn’t sound right with his upper-class English accent.

“Are you laughing at me?”

“Yes.”

“Hmph.” An evil grin crossed his face as he wiggled his fingers at her. “Guess I’ll have to do something about that.” And Parker proved once more that he was strong enough for her. The last guy who’d tickled her had wound up in the hospital with a broken hand. Parker wrestled her down and dug in. He ignored her squeals. He stopped most of her kicks. He proved he was much faster than she was, blocking her hands in an eyeblink before returning to her sides.

“Stop!” She was reduced to breathless begging, laughing so hard she could barely speak.

“Say the magic word.”

“Please!”

“Yes!” Parker collapsed next to her. “I doubt you’ll make fun of my Southern accent ever again.”

He thickened his accent so much she started giggling all over again.

His fingers danced over her skin, not quite tickling her once more.

She latched on to his wrists. “No! Uncle. I give. You’re the epitome of a Southern gentleman.”

“Thank you.” He folded his arms under his head and crossed his ankles, totally relaxed. His cock bobbed against his stomach, still hard. “By the way. Why are you wearing your shirt?”

She glanced down and, sure enough, her shirt and bra were still in place. She took them off and tossed them over the side of the bed. With a jaw-cracking yawn, she turned on her side and curled up against him, ready for a nap.

“Sleepy, sweet?”

“Yeah.” She was, more than she’d thought. The man had managed to wear her out.

Parker rubbed the spot he’d bitten her, all traces of humor gone. “You need some orange juice first?”

“Mm-mm.” She didn’t want juice. She wanted Parker. When he went to get out of bed, she grabbed him and held him down. She draped herself over him, one leg between his, one arm over his stomach. She wiggled until her head was under his chin. “Stay.”

He wrapped his arms around her, cradling her close. “My pleasure.”

Amara drifted off, serene in the knowledge her vampire would be there when she woke up.

Chapter Five

Parker waited until he knew for certain Amara was sound asleep before slipping out of the huge, Craftsman-style four-poster bed to explore the room. He had to bite back a grin at that. Greg was right. Chickie has a four-poster. The simple, elegant bed rested on dark hardwood floors and was topped with a pearl-gray, checkered comforter. The walls were a grayish-purple, the ceiling painted a paler shade. Double doors led out to a Juliet balcony currently covered over by thick blackout curtains and a turquoise wing chair and white table sat by the window, the table piled with books.

He liked it. It suited her. It was simple yet feminine, uniquely hers. The only thing he could see changing was the overdose of purple; he’d love to see some other, more masculine colors. The turquoise chair would be an excellent starting point since he favored blues and greens and, apparently, so did she.

“Parker? Can I talk to you for a moment?”

The whispered voice of Brian, through the door, reminded him that he had some apologizing to do to his poor Renfield. The man must have been terrified when Parker went feral. He’d have to make sure to make it up to him. He glanced ruefully at his torn pants. No way would they stay up.

“Here.”

He looked up at the soft whisper to find Brian’s arm sticking through the partially open door, a pair of jeans dangling from his fingertips.

“Thanks.” Parker pulled them on and stepped into the hallway. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Brian was grinning. “You saw me touch your singele sotiei. Of course you lost it.”

“How did you know?”

“The same way I knew the words of the casuta. I’m a Renfield. It’s my job to know.”

Parker was impressed. “Yes, I suppose it is.” Parker shook his head. “I haven’t heard those terms from someone else’s lips in years.”

“Being a Renfield in Maggie’s Grove is an honorable profession. We’re trained in how to take care of our vampires. We all learn that singele sotiei are precious. We understand that and your reactions to them and how to deal with you when you’ve gone too far to control yourself.”

“What’s he talking about? And why the fuck did you go all Bram Stoker on us? You’ve never done that before.”

“He’s never had reason to before, has he?” Before Greg could respond, Brian continued. “Singele sotiei means blood wife, literally. The one person Parker’s beast can bond to, who will be with him for eternity. Sometimes that relationship is sexual. Sometimes it’s less. Sometimes it’s more.”

Parker had the feeling that with Amara it would be more.

“And casuta? What does that mean?”

Parker winced. Greg was going to love this one. “Obeisance. It’s the ritual soothing of the beast, lets him know the person being viewed as a threat isn’t one at all.” It also let the beast know the person chanting was his vassal, his to protect, but Greg didn’t need to know that. It was a holdover from when vampires ruled territories in places like Transylvania and the Carpathian Mountains. Legend had it the gypsies who’d served them had come up with the casuta, and the beast responded to it in ways Parker didn’t understand but was grateful for. Especially now.

“Under normal circumstances, the chant and the display of submission would have returned Parker to normal, but I’d touched his unclaimed sotiei. I’m lucky Amara didn’t fight him, or I’d be passing through the Veil.”

“Do not pass Go, do not collect two hundred dollars.” Parker’s smile was rueful. “How do we stop this from happening again? I have no desire to harm you.”

“You’d better not.” Greg sounded seriously pissed.

“I don’t. I actually like the little bugger.” Brian coughed, and Parker realized what he’d said. He flipped them both the two-finger salute. “Sod off.”

“We stop it by you claiming your sotiei.” Brian shrugged. “Or I learn yoga, because I’ll be in that position a lot.”

“Naked yoga?”

Brian bit his lip, a shudder passing through him. His eyes closed to half-mast. Parker had no idea what Greg was doing, but from the smell of lust, he’d bet Greg had his metaphysical hands down the Renfield’s pants. “People. Not in front of the children.”

Brian jumped and moved quickly to the right. “Um. Anyway. You need to finish what you started, or the beast will become even more aggressive as time passes.”

“What about Terri?”

“We deal with her, one way or another.”

“We finally get to kill the wicked witch?”

Parker leaned against the wall, his thoughts racing. “Looks like. The sooner the better.” Terri would not harm Amara, not now. Not ever.

“Down, boy.”

Brian’s eyes were wide, his knees partially bent. Parker licked his lips and realized his fangs had descended. He bet his eyes had begun to turn red, the color of hunting. “We’ll keep Amara safe, I swear.” Brian frowned, his expression darkening. “I think it’s time you met the mayor.”

Parker looked at his bare chest and feet. “Perhaps I should be dressed when I do.”

“I’ll make the call. You get the clothes.”

“No. You get the clothes. I’m not leaving Amara alone.”

Brian nodded. “Pick up the receiver and say Dragomir Ibanescu. I’ll be back in ten minutes.” The Renfield raced down the stairs and out the door.

“This town is very strange.”

He followed at a slower pace and took the opportunity look at the rest of Amara’s home. The wood of the ornate Victorian banister was smooth under his palm. Parker approved, even as he disapproved of the first room he stepped into.

Amara’s living room was much different from her bedroom. This room droned gloomy and period from the camelback couch to the dark wainscoting and rose wallpaper. Tufted leather armchairs with clawed feet flanked the green velvet couch. The couch faced an ornate fireplace, the carved mantle done in the same wood as the wainscoting. Brass and crystal sconces did little to lighten the atmosphere. Spindle-legged mahogany tables held porcelain lamps with heavy, gold-fringed shades. A cream ceiling completed the overly done Victorian look. The only truly good thing about the room was the nine-foot ceiling, and even that was barely noticeable with the dreary colors.

Unlike her bedroom, this room would require a complete makeover. He could live with the wainscoting. He could even live with the green couch. But the rose-pink walls, those sconces and…were those naked women on the lamps?

He wandered to the dining room, mentally flinching from the horror of naked brass women draped in fringe. Now, this room wasn’t nearly as bad. The Queen Anne table had the simple lines Parker preferred, and the chandelier, though dripping in crystals, didn’t make him want to break out in hives. Though the wainscoting remained, the color of the walls, a turquoise a shade or two lighter than the chair in her bedroom, managed to keep the room both formal and cheerful.

The kitchen was much more his style. Here were her Craftsman roots, with mission-style cabinets, Carrera-marble countertops and rubbed-bronze appliances that said old-fashioned without croaking out old.

So maybe the living room was a holdover from when the home had been Glinda’s. If this was more Amara’s style, he could definitely live with it.

He found the phone and picked up the receiver. “Dragomir Ibanescu.”

He heard a faint click. “Yes, Amara?”

Parker stared at the phone in shock. “This isn’t Amara.” Amara has the mayor on magical speed dial?

“Ah. You must be our resident vegetarian vampire, Dr. Parker Hollis. A pleasure to hear from you.”

“Thank you. My, um, Renfield suggested we meet to discuss a problem I have.”

“Very well. I’ll be there shortly.”

“That won’t be—” the dial tone cut him off, “—necessary. Bugger. I hope Brian hurries with those clothes. I’d look ridiculous in Amara’s.”

Parker sat down to wait for the town’s mayor, not entirely certain what he’d say to the man. Or even what kind of supernatural the man was. Neither Brian nor Amara had told him, and he found himself curious about what type of person the mayor was.

“Dr. Hollis?”

Parker whirled around to face the man standing behind him. The black-haired, gray-eyed man was a few inches taller than Parker and radiated power on a level he’d rarely felt. His gray suit and crisp white shirt were set off by a slightly askew bloodred tie. This man was much older than Parker’s two hundred years.

He was also a vampire.

Parker’s beast reacted, his only thought to protect his sleeping sotiei.

Dragomir held up his hands in the universal sign of peace. “I mean no harm to your sotiei, Parker, nor do I intend to steal her.”

Parker eased up. This must be the mayor. How the man had gotten here so quickly was—

Wait.

Was he wearing a fucking sign? “How did you know Amara is—”

“Parker!”

Greg’s bellow was so loud the crockery rattled. “Greg?”

Dragomir whirled around, searching the room.

“Help!”

Parker was out the front door in the blink of an eye. “Where?”

“Terri’s here, and she’s going after Brian!”

Shit, there was only one place they could be, and he doubted it was the dryad’s garden. Not even Terri had the bollocks necessary to confront a dryad in her own space. It had to be his. Terri needed greenery to work her magic. He raced around the back of his house, certain he would find the Renfield deathly injured, or worse.

What he found instead shocked him. His garden had come alive. The great oak waved its branches in front of Brian, caging him, protecting him from the encroaching weeds threatening to choke him. The philodendron whipped its thin branches around so quickly that they severed bits of the weeds away like a weed trimmer. Even the flowers were protecting the Renfield, forming a root barrier the weeds could not cross.

His garden looked nothing like it had earlier, and Parker couldn’t be happier. “Amara is somehow protecting him.”

“Amara is powerful, indeed.” Dragomir dodged a whipping branch. “When the Renfield is safe, I expect an explanation.”

“Behind you!”

Parker turned to find a single thick stem racing toward the elder vampire. He pushed the man out of the way and took what would have been a lethal blow to Dragomir’s heart on himself. The stem embedded itself in Parker’s arm. Parker screamed in pain as his arm broke, the bone snapping in two.

From Amara’s house, a low rumbling sounded.

“Fuck.” The mayor stared at Parker in astonishment. “Why did you do that?”

“It would have killed you.” Parker winced and tried to pull the weed out, but it was taking root, burrowing into his body. What fresh hell was this? “Damn it. Get this thing out of me!”

“Parker.” A vaguely familiar, deep, echoing voice filled the air.

Parker looked toward Amara’s house. Something told him his dryad was very, very angry. “Amara.” He gasped as the roots of the weed twined around his broken bone. Bloody hell, this was going to hurt when it was removed. If it had gotten into Dragomir, it would have wrapped around his heart; any effort to remove it would have killed him instantly.

“There are weeds in your garden, Parker.”

Parker watched in astonishment as a much-altered Amara stepped into his garden, covered in what looked like brown bark. Instead of being rigid, the bark moved with her. Reddish leaves blew around her in a nonexistent wind. Her green eyes glowed with angry intent, the whites completely obscured. And she was at least three feet taller, towering over the privacy fence, Parker and everything but the oak tree.

Amara shrieked, the sound filled with fury, the creaking and groaning of a thousand trees filling it with an inhuman rumble that shook the windows facing into the garden. She reached for his arm from across the garden, extending hers until her knobby fingers caressed his wound. “Weeds need to be pulled.”

Parker braced himself and was glad afterward that he had. The pain when Amara pulled was immense. It felt like she was ripping his whole arm off. He blacked out.

The fire in her belly burned even hotter as Parker fell. She pointed at Dragos. “Guard him.”

Dragos took a fighting stance, batting away anything that came close to touching Parker.

Amara was free to turn her attention to the weeds destroying his garden. She waded into the fight, ripping and tearing, searching for the woman who’d attacked Brian and injured Parker. The plants acted with a higher degree of awareness than usual, reacting to her attacks with lightning speed. That level of control told her Terri had to be close by, controlling their actions. No witch could command this many plants so easily without being able to see exactly what was going on, and a scrying spell wouldn’t give her the reaction speed she’d need, since it would take up most of her concentration.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” she crooned. She grabbed a vine and tugged, pulling it from the weakening oak. “I know you’re here, Terri. Are you too frightened to face me?”

The moss beneath her formed distorted lips. “I’ll face you on my own terms, dryad, when I’m good and ready.” The odd voice echoed, and Amara couldn’t pinpoint exactly where it came from.

Amara grabbed the thorny weed and yanked it from the ground. “Bring it on.” She shrieked her challenge and began laying about her with the weed, using it as a spiked whip.

“Parker is mine. Stay away from him or suffer the consequences.”

A root tripped Amara up, and the whip got tangled in her legs. She righted herself before she landed on the mossy lips. “Fuck you. He’s mine.” She cracked the whip over her head, shearing off the edges of the vine that had dipped down almost to her hair. She moved faster, cracking at the vine until nothing was left but green paste.

More vines ripped the whip from her hands. “No, thank you. You aren’t my type.” Thorns tore at Amara’s side, unable to penetrate her bark. Something almost broke through the cage the oak had wrapped around Brian, but a shimmering light in the shape of a tall, broad man suddenly appeared, forcing it back.

“Nice try, bitch.” She snatched another vine and scoured the garden, searching for the bitch who’d hurt Parker. Where the fuck was she?

The mocking laughter only spurred her on.

When Parker came to, he was lying on the ground, his head cradled in Dragomir’s lap. “Amara?”

“She’s…gardening.”

Groggy, he sat up, his arm a throbbing mass of agony. His altered sotiei was pulling anything that resembled a weed, while the oak continued to guard his Renfield. Her mutters were too quiet for him to hear exactly what she said. “Greg?”

“Here. Parker, what did I tell you about the crazy?”

“Not now, Greg. Besides, Amara isn’t crazy.”

“Then what do you call that?”

Amara pulled something from the ground that was covered in vicious thorns. She waved it over her head triumphantly. “When I find you, I’m going to shove this so far up your ass it will wriggle out your nostrils,” she shrieked, using it like a scourge.

She was stunningly beautiful, a Boadicea, his personal warrior goddess, and he was more than willing to worship at her feet. “Magnificent.” Dragomir chuckled. “There are others you’ll have to convince of that, but in the meantime we should see about your arm.”

The reminder sent sharp shards of pain through him. His arm throbbed like a son of a bitch, and he could tell it was a bad break. The burrowing weed had made it worse, tearing through flesh and digging into bone. He didn’t know where Terri had learned that new trick, but it was one he planned on avoiding in the future.

He would heal, given time, but it would be a painful process. He would be lame with that arm for at least a week, possibly more. “Ow.”

“Dryads can’t heal others, can they?”

“No, I’m afraid not.” Dragomir was looking at something off to the side of the fight. Parker wondered if he too could see Greg. “But I have a witchdoctor on call who can. Let me send for her.”

“Greg? Where’s Terri?”

“Gone. Hell, I didn’t even realize she was here in the first place.” Greg’s voice was thick with remorse. “I’m sorry. I should have known she’d show up, should have been watching for her.”

“It’s all right. At least Amara stopped her from hurting Brian. That’s the important thing.”

“Yes, it is.” Dragomir cast Parker an odd look and helped him to his feet, careful of his injured arm. “Selena is on her way.”

“Thank you.”

Dragomir bowed to him, the gesture formal. “I owe you sange datorie.” Parker started. He didn’t think he’d done anything deserving such a deep acknowledgment of debt as sange datorie implied.

Parker bowed as much as his throbbing arm and light head would allow. “It was my pleasure, Dragomir Ibanescu.”

Dragomir’s lips twisted into a smile. “Call me Dragos.” He pointed with his chin over Parker’s shoulder. “Amara is done.”

Parker turned so fast he wound up on his ass again. The landing jarred his shattered arm, and Parker saw stars. “Ow. Fuck, ow. Amara?”

She came to him, her bark fading, the glow leaving her eyes, her body returning to human. “Parker!” She fell into his lap, curling around him like a vine. His lap was full of jiggling, naked dryad. If it hadn’t been for the agony radiating from his arm, he would have been one hell of a happy vampire. “Are you all right?”

Parker moved his arm from underneath her and tried to breathe through the pain. Too bad he didn’t really need to breathe, because it didn’t work. “Nope.”

She barely lifted her head from his shoulder, but he could feel the ridges forming on her skin. She was about to go dryad on someone’s ass. “Call Selena, Dragos.”

“Already done.” Dragos nodded hello to Brian. “Brian, it’s good to see you are safe.”

“Thanks to Amara and Greg, yes.”

What had Greg done, other than call Parker? Damn it, why did he have to pass out during the good parts?

A car pulled up outside Parker’s house. A woman stepped out and briskly strode across the lawn, neatly dodging various bits of dying plant life wriggling on the ground. The dark-haired, bountiful beauty striding briskly across his lawn would once have represented the best sort of temptation, but Parker was immune to her charms. Curly brown hair was held high in a ponytail, and her jeans were tight enough to tempt without being what Greg called ho pants. Her T-shirt strained over natural attributes that would have made a porn star green with envy.

But it was the phrase on the T-shirt that made him like her. It said Save Your Breath. You’ll Need It to Blow Up Your Date.

How could he not like a woman brave enough to wear that?

She halted in front of the mayor, but her eyes roamed the garden, taking everything in. “Hello, Dragos. What’s the problem?”

“Broken arm, among other things.” Dragos pointed toward Parker. “We have a situation to deal with.”

The woman pushed her glasses up her nose and smiled. “When don’t we? Selena Giannone.”

Parker held out his not-broken arm. “Parker Hollis.”

They shook hands, and Selena jumped. “You’re under a curse that’s…not. Strange. Very strange.” She clucked her tongue and shook her head, dismissing his not-a-curse curse. “Let me see that arm.”

Parker held out his arm, and Selena gently examined it. “Bad break. You’ve got some internal bleeding, torn ligaments, and—Yeowch. Do I want to know what did this?”

“I’ll explain later. Can you please? It hurts quite a bit.” And wasn’t that the understatement of the year? He almost wished Amara had ripped his arm off. It could hardly hurt more.

“Hmm.” She held her hand over the wound and hummed an unfamiliar tune that nevertheless eased him. Warmth radiated from her palm, soothing the pain, healing the damage. From the look on Amara’s face, it was taking longer than it should have. Had there been even more damage than he’d originally thought? That was frightening. Terri was becoming even more powerful as time went on. Amara’s lips were compressed, her eyes glowing with green light. She was close to shifting again into her other form.

The soothing heat of the healing dissipated. “There. That should do it.” Selena swayed.

Dragos whipped his arm around her, kept her from falling. “Are you all right?”

“Fine, big guy. That’s some powerful mojo you’ve got there, Parker.” She pried free of Dragos’s hold with a smile. “Mind filling me in on what’s going on?” She turned on Dragos and pushed her finger in his face. “And don’t give me that whole ‘you’re too precious to the community to risk’ bull-crap either.”

Dragos smiled tightly. “Of course not. Why would I do something as silly as that?”

Selena glared up at him, all five feet nothing of her. Her rounded arms crossed over her chest. “I mean it, Dragos.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She blew her bangs out of her eyes. “Good.”

Parker swept Amara up in his arms, since it didn’t seem the dryad was going to get off his lap anytime soon. “My place or yours, sweet?”

“Mine. The protections are stronger.”

“Very well. Follow me, people.” Parker led the way back to the Victorian. “Anyone want to order pizza? I’ll take mine with extra hemoglobin.” He ignored the strange looks shot him by his merry band of followers and carried his sotiei over the threshold.

“All right. Spill it.” The witchdoctor stared at Parker with unholy amusement. “Why are you attached to Amara’s hip, and why are you cursed yet not?”

As Parker recounted his tale for Dragos and Selena, the fire burned in Amara’s belly again. The urge to hunt Terri down and rip her out of Parker’s life by the roots was strong.

Terri had hurt him. She’d made Parker bleed.

Amara wouldn’t stop until the bitch was a broken pile of nothing.

“Down, girl.”

Amara turned to find Brian standing over her. “What?”

“You’re…barking.”

Amara looked at her hands. They were covered in bark. “Oh.” Calming herself was proving to be difficult. Terri had eluded her, and she didn’t know how. Amara had battled back the weeds, but she hadn’t found the root of the problem.

Until she did, Parker was in danger.

“Amara. Sweet. Look at me.”

“What?”

“As lovely as you are, it’s much harder to cuddle with you when your bark is poking me. Would you mind terribly?”

She blinked. “Oh. Sorry.” She concentrated on her human form, drawing on the peace of her tree out in the backyard. She needed the extra boost her maple gave her. Just the thought of Parker in danger was enough to send her back into rage.

She took a deep breath and tried not to remember the spike sticking out of his arm, the look of pain on his face. She closed her eyes, hoping to block the image of Parker’s blood or the worried look on Dragos’s face when Parker couldn’t pull it free.

“Sweet.” He stroked her hair. “Come back to me, Amara.”

“I’m not sure I can.”

“Do you need to commune with your tree?” Dragos’s deep voice was full of compassion.

She opened her eyes to see Parker glaring at Dragos. “No! She stays with me.”

“It helps calm her when nothing else will.”

Parker narrowed his eyes, then smiled at Amara. That was when she realized she’d reverted to her other form. “How can you protect me if you leave me for weeks?”

Amara shivered, her leaves rustling. He was right. He’d be vulnerable if she communed with her tree. She always lost track of time when she did. “When this is over, when we know for certain you’re safe, I will have to. You understand?”

“Of course.” He took hold of her hand. “But I need you human for me, at least for a while. Can you do that, sweet?”

Her lips curved as she blinked away sudden tears. He wasn’t looking at her any differently, wasn’t treating her like a freak. The simple fact that he was playing with her fingers, unmindful of the bark covering them, touched her heart. “Sure thing, sour.”

Someone behind her choked off a laugh, but the only one who mattered was Parker. He was laughing; his acceptance of the private joke thrilled her. Not everyone got her quirky sense of humor. The knowledge Parker did made her fall just a little bit more under his spell. “I’m beginning to like when you call me that,” he whispered for her ears alone.

Amara shivered again, but this time it was to help shed her bark. She dwindled in size until she was smaller than Parker once again. “Better?”

“Mmm. Let me see.” He kissed her, barely tasting her before pulling back. “Much.” He cupped her bare rear. “But I’d prefer you clothed until we can be alone. Can you accommodate me on that as well?”

She rolled her eyes. “Everyone in this room has—” the red glow spreading deep in his eyes warned her not to finish, “—seen me in jeans. I’ll be right back.” And Amara dashed upstairs, praying the possessive nature of her vampire didn’t make him do something extremely stupid. Dragos would feed him his ass, and Amara was becoming partial to it.

She threw on a sundress, not bothering with underwear, and bounced back down the stairs. Parker was finishing the story of what happened that night in the California desert. “And here we are.”

Selena had her head back, the witchdoctor staring at the ceiling, her hands palm-up in her lap. Her right foot was tapping.

“What do you think?”

Amara shushed Parker. “She is.”

“Is what?”

“Thinking.”

“Oh.” Parker pulled Amara back onto his lap. She crossed her ankles and hands daintily, allowing her weight to settle.

“She knows what Amara is now, in more ways than one.” When the witchdoctor lifted her head, Parker gasped. Selena’s unseeing gaze was filmed over. Under each eye, three dots glowed with blue light. A rainbow-colored tree of life, crowned with the mark of the triple Goddess, arched across her forehead and down the bridge of her nose. The Goddess’s mark, a full moon bracketed by two mirrored half-moons, was so bright it almost hurt to look at. “She’ll begin to target her, to try to rip her away from Parker. She views Parker as hers. If Parker tastes Terri’s blood, then Parker will be hers forever, thus fulfilling the curse.”

“Is there any way to avoid that outcome?” Parker tightened his arms around her. He obviously didn’t want to be bound to Terri.

“Your bond with Amara must be completed before you will be immune to Terri’s curse. But doing so will permanently change your nature. You can never go back to living on pure human blood.”

Parker shrugged. “I can live with that.”

Amara gasped. “But that means that you’ll forever be cursed!”

Parker kissed the side of her neck, right over where he’d bitten her earlier. “No. I won’t. I’ll have you, so I’ll be blessed.”

Warmth flooded through her as Selena smiled her approval. Blessed? Really? He considered spending eternity with her a blessing? “What’s the bond we need to complete?” Amara tried to ignore the nibbling kisses Parker tried to distract her with. She had a mission to accomplish, damn it.

“You’re Parker’s singele sotiei, his blood wife. If he completes the vampiric ritual that binds you together for eternity, then he’ll be both free of the curse and forever cursed at the same time.” Selena’s words echoed eerily.

“Damn. Is this a good thing or a bad thing?” The voice was deep, definitely male and had come from somewhere near Brian. She bet it was the infamous Greg, but how could she suddenly hear him?

Selena’s blind eyes turned toward that voice. “A very good thing. He’ll be the vampiric mate of a hamadryad and thus able to feed off of her.”

A what?

Before she could ask what Selena was talking about, Parker distracted her with a sharp nip that nearly drew blood. “She’s the best thing I’ve ever tasted.” Parker licked her neck, and suddenly Amara wondered how much blood he’d lost. The one thing Selena couldn’t heal with her powers, his blood supply would have to be replenished naturally. Which meant…

“Parker? Are you hungry?” She met Brian’s eyes, and he nodded, willing to donate whatever was needed for his vampire.

“Starving.” He nipped her again, not hard enough to draw blood, but enough to drive his point home.

Brian headed for her kitchen, but his blood wouldn’t be enough. If she was Parker’s sotiei, she bet he’d need at least a few drops from her. “Brian’s going to make you a snack. I can’t feed you twice in one night, but I can add a few drops. Would that be all right?”

Parker pulled his mouth from her skin. “I suppose.” She hid her grin. He sounded like a sulky boy who wanted an ice-cream cone but was offered a graham cracker instead.

“Complete the ritual, vampire, but there’s no guarantee the witch won’t seek revenge if you do. If you are lost to her—”

“She’ll try to kill him.” Amara kept herself human. Barely. She desperately wanted to hunt down Terri and kick her ass, but she had to keep control. If she changed while sitting on Parker’s lap, she could seriously hurt him.

“If I can’t have you, no one can.” Dragos went to the window and looked out into the night. “Is she a danger to others in the town?”

“With that mentality? Hell yes. She’s c-r-a-z-y.”

“Thanks again, Greg.” Parker grimaced.

“You’re welcome.”

“Why can I hear you?” Amara looked at Parker, who shrugged, just as confused as she. “I couldn’t before.”

“Your connection to Parker, maybe?”

Brian shook his head before Greg could answer. “It’s Selena. She’s allowing Greg to be heard.”

“Selena, can you make him seen as well as heard?” Amara was curious about the man who’d apparently snagged the Renfield’s heart.

Selena smiled. Her markings flared. And off to her right, a large black man appeared. His long, braided hair was graying, his gaze was full of mischief and his arms were wrapped protectively around Brian.

“Wow. He’s big.”

Greg’s jaw dropped. “You can see me?”

Amara giggled. “I’d shake ectoplasm again, but I don’t think Parker will let me up.”

Brian was smiling so wide she thought his face might crack. “Isn’t he gorgeous?”

If ghosts could blush, Greg would be bright red. He buried his face in Brian’s neck, much to Brian’s obvious approval. “Thank you. But I think you’re the gorgeous one.”

Brian winked at Amara, pleased.

“Once Parker finishes the bond, I believe Amara will be able to hear you without my help.” The image of Greg faded, but Brian’s look of pleasure remained.

“I was wondering something, Brian. How can you feel Greg?” Parker waved toward the pair of men, one seen, the other not.

“I’m a physical medium.” Brian ran his finger down Greg’s arm. “That means ghosts can physically interact with me, share sensations, that sort of thing, and I can do the same. For some physical mediums, it’s as simple as feeling their presence or having the ability to channel them, allowing them to speak to the living. For those like me, it’s as if their bodies are really there. I can touch Greg in ways most mediums can’t.”

Amara cocked her head. “So that’s what you were doing when you were bent naked over Parker’s couch? Touching?”

Brian’s jaw dropped. He began choking. Greg’s deep laughter boomed through the room, tinged with the slight hysteria of a man who’d been caught with his pants around his ankles.

“My couch, Greg? My couch?” Parker buried his face in his hands. “Excuse me, I need to scrub my brain now. There’s this dirty picture in there I need to clean away.”

Dragos, still by the window, pressed his forehead to the glass. She’d bet just about anything he was biting back laughter. “Can we get back to the subject of the wicked witch?”

“Yes, please, and thank you.” Parker shifted Amara and grunted. “What can we do to keep Amara safe?”

“Keep you safe, you mean.”

Parker stared at her blankly. “Of course.”

Amara rolled her eyes. “Don’t go there. Maybe we should concentrate on both of us being safe, hmm?”

“I like that plan.” Brian leaned back against thin air, perfectly at ease in his ghost’s arms. His fingers danced over thin air as he petted Greg. Brian was turning out to be remarkably touchy-feely, which she hadn’t expected. “I say we call in some reinforcements. We’re dealing with someone who was a witch first. She probably thinks like one.”

“She might try magic to hurt us next, since her plant attack didn’t work.”

“And we have no magical protections.” Parker shook himself. “Greg, you’re a witch. Any suggestions?”

Brian started. Perhaps he’d forgotten his lover had once been the very thing they were fighting.

“I can’t cast anything anymore thanks to the grim reaper. I’d suggest we call in a living witch who has a connection to the earth.” Parker’s gaze drifted to Brian. “Do we know someone we can trust?”

“I can put in a few phone calls.” The Renfield reached for his cell phone.

“Don’t worry about it.” Dragos turned back around. “I’ll take care of that.”

Selena frowned. The markings had faded, her eyes hazel once more. “Who?”

Dragos smiled, his expression full of heat and desire. “Kate, of course.”

Selena sighed. “Of course. On that note, I’m out of here. It was a pleasure meeting you, Parker, Greg.”

Parker stood after placing Amara on the couch. “Ours as well, Miss Selena.” Parker kissed her fingers. “Please, feel welcome in my home.”

Amara damn near growled at the pleasure in Selena’s eyes. “Thank you, Parker.” Selena winked at Amara. “Have a good night, Amara.”

Dancing butterflies filled her stomach. She knew what Selena was talking about, and it had nothing to do with being good. “I’ll walk you to the door.”

She ignored the way Dragos’s shoulders had stiffened. If he didn’t want to acknowledge the witchdoctor, that was his problem. Whatever was going on between them, she couldn’t allow it to affect Parker.

Then again, maybe Amara could pay Selena back for helping Parker with a little magic of her own. “I’m thinking of throwing a party to welcome Parker to the neighborhood. Why don’t you come? It might be a good way to draw Terri out.” She leaned in close and whispered in the witch’s ear, low enough to pretend she thought Dragos couldn’t hear. “Besides, there’s this guy I’ve wanted you to meet.” She waggled her brows and winked, even though they both knew there was no man. But what Dragos didn’t know might lure him out into the open without Kate, his sometime lover and the town’s treasurer.

Selena’s eyes sparkled as she carefully did not look at Dragos. “Sounds good. I’ll be here.” She stepped out the front door with a cheery wave. “Night, everyone!”

Without a backward glance, the witchdoctor left. At least one pair of eyes stayed glued to her car until it turned the corner.

“So we have a plan to bring Terri to us. Any ideas on how to protect us from another attack?”

Trust Parker to bring her back from romance to the real world.

“I’ll contact Kate as soon as I get home. She will be more than happy to work for us, I think.” Dragos drifted toward the door. “Move into Amara’s home as soon as possible, Parker. She is, after all, your sotiei, and her home has better protection spells. Amara, you might want to see if any of Glinda’s wards are still in place.”

“How?”

“Greg might be able to see them. I know for a fact that just before she died, she keyed several of them so you could activate them.” Dragos stepped into the night. “It’s time I headed home. Call if you need anything. Good night.” Dragos sauntered down the walk, fading in a self-generated mist that floated off on the evening breeze.

“Can you do that?”

Parker laughed. “Turn into mist? Yes. It’s not as complicated as it looks, but I don’t think I have Dragos’s dramatic flair.”

“He does like to make an exit, doesn’t he?” Amara tilted her head, thinking through some of the things she’d learned that night. “I think Selena is his sotiei, but he doesn’t want to acknowledge that for some reason.”

Parker shut the door. “Is he sleeping with this Kate person?”

“I think so.”

“Then Selena cannot be his sotiei.”

“How do you know?” She settled in next to him on the couch, trying to ignore the hungry gleam in his eyes.

“Because after one meeting with you, being with anyone else is unthinkable.” He pulled her close and nuzzled her neck, his warm breath tickling her. “One taste and I was ruined for anyone else.” He bit her gently, fangless, a reminder of how pleasurable his bite could be.

“Maybe if he tasted her, he’d know?”

Brian came back with a glass full of greenish-yellow goop and a bandage on one finger. “He could be resisting, I suppose. If he thinks claiming her would put her in danger, he might be able to distance himself enough to sleep with someone else. And the rejection of his sotiei when she found out would widen the gulf, until eventually the connection could conceivably break. Honestly, though? I don’t think she is. He showed none of the strain of being around his sotiei without touching her, and his beast didn’t react when she nearly passed out.” He handed Parker the glass. “Drink up.”

Parker sniffed and made a face. “It’s like being handed a fast-food cheeseburger after dining on filet mignon. No offense.”

“None taken.” Brian went back to Greg and leaned against thin air.

Amara touched one finger to Parker’s lips. “Give me a nip, Parker.”

A dot of red appeared in his eyes. Parker’s fangs descended, piercing her skin, there and gone again so fast she scarcely registered the pain, let alone the pleasure. She pressed her fingertip until the blood beaded, then added it to the concoction.

Parker drank his dinner in three long swallows and shivered. “That’s much better. Thank you, Brian.” He licked the wound on Amara’s finger closed. “And thank you, m’lady.” His heated look scorched her, turned her inside out.

She could hardly contain her answering smile. She wanted him every bit as much as he wanted her, and she’d prove it once they were alone. “You’re welcome.”

“I’ll wait until morning and run next door, pick up some clothes for Parker and myself. Greg and I will sleep in Amara’s old room.” Brian winced at Parker’s low growl. “Parker will sleep in Amara’s new room. With Amara.” She had a hard time stifling her giggle when Brian muttered, “Duh.”

Amara patted Parker’s arm. “He’s right. He’ll be most comfortable there. The bed is large enough for him and Greg to roll around in.”

She couldn’t help giggling at Parker’s reaction. Her big, bad vampire stuck his fingers in his ears and lalalal’d at the top of his lungs. He wished Greg and Brian good-night, grabbed Amara and practically dragged her to bed. He already had her in his arms and in her bedroom, the door slamming shut behind them, before she could offer them her good-nights. “Hi.”

She grinned up at him, remembering when he’d startled her the other night. That night she’d screamed in his face and tried to deck him.

Tonight she would give him a much warmer reception. She unzipped his pants, pulled out his semierect cock and toyed with it. “Hi.”

“I think I like your greeting better.” Parker cupped her breasts, stroking her nipples through the whisper-thin cotton of her sundress. She arched into the touch, licking her lips at the thought of what she wanted to do to him.

“Give us a kiss?”

She got down on her knees, ignoring his delighted smile, and took him into her mouth.

His head banged against the door. “Now that’s what I call a kiss hello.”

She chuckled, earning a groan. His cock jumped in her mouth, hardening more. She looked up at him through her bangs to find him staring at her, his fangs out, his eyes burning. He buried his hands in her hair, guiding her movements, and rocked his hips into her. He set the pace, fucking her mouth, giving her his pleasure, careful not to push too hard or too fast.

“Do you want me to come in your mouth? Hmm? Is that what you want?”

The thought of tasting him, drinking him down, filled her with need. She sucked harder, stroked the flared head of his cock with her tongue, eager to have him spill into her mouth. He hissed out a breath and tugged her hair. She’d have to tip him the rest of the way over.

Amara cradled his balls and rolled them in her palm, massaged them in time with her strokes. But it wasn’t until she accidentally grazed him with her teeth that Parker finally lost control. He held her in place while he fucked her mouth with total abandon.

“Yes,” he hissed. “Now. Goddess, now.” His come erupted on her tongue, more sweet than salty with a touch copper. She hummed her approval, drank him until he was drained. She didn’t let up until Parker started to laugh.

“Enough, sweet. Bloody hell. I think you sucked out my brain.” He helped her to her feet and guided her toward the four-poster bed. Parker touched one of the posts, an evil gleam in his eye. “I approve of your bed. All sorts of interesting places to attach hooks.”

Amara gulped. “H-hooks?”

“Mm.” Parker pushed, and Amara fell onto her back, her legs dangling over the edge. “The better to tie you up with, my dear.”

When he crawled on top of her, she put her hand on his chest. “I’m not into pain, Parker. Pain hurts me.”

He placed a soft kiss on her palm, then repeated the gesture on her other palm. “I know.” He took both of her wrists in his hand. Without taking his eyes off her, he pulled her arms over her head. “Don’t move.”

Did she want to play his game, or did she want to challenge him, see what would happen if she disobeyed?

He skimmed his hands down her body. Her breasts ached for his touch, but he avoided them, brushing the sides but ignoring the peaks. She considered moving her arms, but his next action left her motionless. He lifted her skirt and moaned at the sight of her bare pussy. “I love a woman who wears a dress without knickers.” He lapped once at her wet folds before forcing her legs apart. His stern look had her trembling. “My turn. Remember, keep your hands where they are.”

Amara gave a shuddering sigh when his mouth descended once more. She grabbed her wrist, determined to play along, to let her vampire be the dominant partner this time. He wanted to play, and she would let him. He wouldn’t hurt her, and if he continued doing that swirly thing with his tongue, she might grant his wish and put hooks in her bed. Her entire body was a giant instrument of pleasure, expertly played by Parker’s mouth. He took her clit into his mouth and sucked it, strumming it with the tip of his tongue in mind-bending strokes. She bucked, desperate for more, and the tips of his fangs grazed her wet folds. The thought of him biting her there both scared her to death and aroused the hell out of her.

Her body moved without conscious control. Her breasts were hard and aching, desperate for a touch, a lick, anything he cared to give them. She tightened her thighs around his head, then parted as her body raced toward orgasm. She lifted her legs and dropped them again, alternately thrusting her hips into Parker’s face and twisting beneath him, trying to find the angle that would send her screaming into the abyss.

But her hands stayed right where he’d left them, and that tiny bit of control she’d given him made the pleasure that much deeper. She trusted him, and he rewarded her in the best possible way.

“Goddess, Parker. If you stop, I will fucking kill you.”

Parker hummed around her clit, and Amara screamed as she came, unable to breathe, every muscle locked tight in ecstasy.

The tremors finally eased, and her sight returned. And oh what a sight it was. Parker was still lapping at her, keeping her vaguely aroused and unable to come all the way down from the incredible high he’d given her. He kept it up, over and over, licking her, tasting her until she moved under him again, frantic to keep his tongue right there.

Parker looked up at her desperate face and smiled. Something sparked deep within his gaze as it landed on her needy breasts. He focused his attention on one, and Amara shrieked. Phantom fingers plucked at her nipple, this side of the pleasure line of pain. That touch sent her once more over the edge, her body rippling under his touch in an explosion that rocked her to her core.

She opened her eyes to find Parker sliding into her. He’d lifted her legs, planted her calves on his shoulders. He cupped her ass, lifting her to meet his thrusts. His cock pounded into her, sending her bouncing. Only his grip on her ass kept her from sliding away from him.

He licked his wet lips and stared down at where they were joined as he took her over and over. “You were made for me. Made to take my cock.” He clenched her ass, and she knew she’d have some bruises from the strength of his grip. Their flesh slapped together, and Parker’s eyes narrowed to slits, leaving a ruby gleam beneath dark lashes.

Amara’s breasts ached. She needed to be touched, needed her nipples toyed with. She was so damn close to coming, but she couldn’t quite get to where she needed to be. Why wasn’t he touching her?

Parker opened his eyes. He must have seen how much she needed, because he moved her legs and wrapped them around his waist. “Hold on, sweet.” She did as she was told, holding him tight between her thighs. He shoved the dress farther up until it was above her breasts, exposing them to his greedy gaze. He moved his hand to hold her steady while he fucked her, his palm on her stomach. He stroked her breasts with his free hand, finally giving them the attention she craved. He plucked and twisted her aching nipples. She cried out, the mix of pleasure and pain driving her closer to the edge.

He slid his hand down her sweating stomach until his thumb brushed the edge of her clit, circling the soaking flesh until she was on the verge of coming. Parker’s jaw clenched. “So fucking close. Come for me, sweet. Come on my cock.”

Parker moved his thumb a hair, and that was all she needed. Her body bowed off the bed, the orgasm so intense she came close to blacking out. Her vision darkened, her lungs seized and she didn’t care that she could be dying. She’d be one hell of a happy dead woman.

Parker bellowed, his body throbbing as he emptied his seed into her. He gasped, barely able to catch his breath, sweating like a pig and more beautiful than anything she’d ever seen. He collapsed on top of her, his knees barely on the bed, his cock inside her, still hard despite the fact that he’d already come. His hot breath danced across her breasts; his forehead pressed against her breastbone. “Gods above.”

Amara couldn’t answer. She wasn’t sure her lungs worked right anymore. She couldn’t seem to gulp in enough air to do much more than pant.

He lifted his head and grinned, so full of male satisfaction that she tightened in response. “You’re a very good girl.”

Amara tilted her head. “Hmm?”

“You didn’t move your hands.”

Amara blinked. Hell. She’d forgotten all about them.

Parker laughed huskily and dragged her up the bed. “That’s my girl.”

Amara smiled. His girl. She liked the sound of that.

Chapter Six

“Good evening, Ms. Gallagher.” Parker’s good humor was being seriously strained. This was one of the worst evenings he’d had since moving to Maggie’s Grove. He’d hoped things at the local farmers’ market, another twenty-four-hour, one-stop shopping place for the vegetarian vampire, would be better, but from the scowls he was receiving, he’d been wrong.

Ms. Gallagher, a woman who’d shyly rung him up on several occasions in the past few weeks, took one look at him and almost growled, “You’re with Amara Schwedler, aren’t you?”

What the hell is wrong with these people? He hadn’t met such hostility since he’d walked into a speakeasy nearly a century ago and flashed a fake badge. “Yes,” he drawled. Her stare was beginning to piss him off. It bordered between afraid and hostile, a look he’d seen several times since he began shopping.

“You know she’s not normal, right?”

Parker smiled sweetly, while inside, his rage boiled over. She was the third person to tell him Amara wasn’t normal, whatever the fuck that meant. “You’re right. She’s not normal.” He leaned in close, until her pupils expanded with fear. His eyes had gone deep red. “She’s better.”

Slowly he leaned back, out of the woman’s personal space. He left his selections on the counter, too angry to continue shopping. If one more person called his mate a freak, he was going to kill someone. True, Amara was unique, but she wasn’t a monster. This was Maggie’s Grove, for fuck’s sake. Women rode broomsticks without generating comments; werewolves bayed at the full moon, and people couldn’t care less. The mayor was a fucking vampire. And they had the audacity to call his sweet Amara abnormal?

He snorted, amused, but it didn’t help his fury. People got out of his way; they understood what an angry vampire was capable of in this town and weren’t about to let him take his rage out on their flesh.

“Parker.”

Ah. Now, there was someone he could fight. “Dragos.”

“I understand you’ve been butting up against the bit of prejudice we seem to have in this town.” Dragos stepped close, but not close enough to feel Parker’s claws. The street had emptied, people ducking into doorways or businesses to get out of their way. “I want it stated for the record that I do not agree with the way some people treat your singele sotiei.”

There was a masculine gasp behind him. “Someone mated that freak?”

His beast broke its leash, eager for the taste of blood. Before the speaker had finished, Parker had him by the throat and up against the wall, leaving him no time to react. Dragos sighed, resigned to the coming fight. Parker had no problems handing out object lessons. He smiled, allowing his fangs to show. “What did you say about my wife?” He clenched his hand around the man’s throat until he could barely breathe.

Dragos tried to pry Parker’s fingers from the man’s throat but backed off at Parker’s snarl. “Jason was Amara’s prom date in high school, or so she thought. He thought it would be amusing to win her over, ask her out, then show his friends how she changed when she became angry. He left her half-naked on Glinda’s doorstep and took another were to the prom instead.”

Parker literally saw red. His claws pricked the were’s skin, and blood welled from the puncture wounds. “Really?” Parker tilted his head. “And who is Jason’s mate?”

Jason gulped, his Adam’s apple moving under Parker’s palm.

“Jason has no mate yet.”

“Pity.” Parker pulled Jason close but kept his feet off the ground. “However, I’m sure that will someday be remedied. He is quite the attractive young man, isn’t he? I wonder how he would feel if someone treated her the way Amara has been?”

He tightened his grip, one sharp claw dangerously close to Jason’s jugular. One move and Jason would never have the opportunity to mate, probably the only thing that kept him from shifting.

It was time to end this town’s strange animosity toward Amara. He pitched his voice so that it could be heard clear across the town, using his vampiric powers to whisper into every home, every dark alley, every corner of Maggie’s Grove. “Know this. Amara is mine. Mine to protect. My sotiei. Anyone who even looks at her wrong will deal with me, and I will not be compassionate. I will make you pay in ways you’ve never dreamed.” Jason trembled as he stared into Parker’s eyes. “You won’t be able to hide from me. I will find you in your deepest nightmares. I am your worst fear. And when I finally collect the debt owed, before you die, you’ll know exactly how Amara has felt all these years. You will know what it is to be a true freak. Do we understand each other?”

A nearby tree exploded into a billion shards, piercing the night with stinging, lethal projectiles. Parker hit the dirt, shielding Jason with his body. Screams erupted around him, cries of pain mingling with the thwapthwapthwap sounds as the rapidly moving shrapnel hit the buildings, cars…and people.

When it was over, the silence was deafening. Parker lifted himself off Jason and took in the situation.

People were on the ground, most bleeding, several crying. Two weren’t moving, including Ken, the ice-cream parlor boy who’d been so sweet to Amara.

“Fuck.” He glanced over at the terrified were. “You all right?”

Jason nodded. That was all he needed to hear. He dashed over to the fallen boy and rolled him over. “Ken!”

Blood trickled from a wound in the boy’s chest. He’d been pierced through the heart, killed instantly. Not even the Kiss could save him. He was already gone. Parker bowed his head. Terri was responsible for this, and it was only the beginning. He gritted his teeth and prayed he found her before she hurt anyone else.

“Parker.”

He lifted his head to find Dragos standing over him, grief-stricken as he stared down at the dead young man. “Terri did this. I know it.”

“We need to convince them of that.” Dragos gestured toward the townspeople who were slowly rising to their feet. “Because of your argument with Jason, they’re going to blame Amara, even though she wasn’t here.”

Oh hell to the no. Amara had suffered enough grief from these people; they needed to learn the truth before they hurt her any further. “We need to hold a town meeting, let everyone know who Terri is. If she’s capable of this, she’s capable of anything.” They needed to know Ken had died because of Parker’s inability to kill Terri. Once she’d only targeted the women he cared for; her attack on an entire community made no sense.

Sense or no, this time she’d gone too far. It was time to remember that he might be cursed to drink green, leafy blood, but when it came down to it? He was a vampire.

It was time to go hunting the hunter.

Amara lifted the receiver on the third ring. “Hello?”

“You killed my boy.”

“What?” Why would Scott Madison say something so vile?

“My boy is dead, Amara. Dead. And you killed him.” His grief pounded at her.

It couldn’t be true. Ken couldn’t be dead. “I’ve been home all day. You can ask Brian. He’s been here with me.”

Brian entered the room at that moment and sent her a questioning look. Amara gestured for him to pick up the extension.

“Then how did you do it?”

“Do what? Scott, I swear to you I haven’t been out today.” She heard a click; Brian had picked up the phone. “What’s going on?”

“Ken is dead. Your…lover attacked Jason near the farmers’ market, and a tree exploded right behind him. One of the splinters killed my boy.”

Amara sank to the ground. Parker had attacked Jason? Ken was dead? “Dear Goddess.”

“Why, Amara? Why?”

“I didn’t do this, but I know who did.”

“Who?” Scott sounded almost feral.

“Terri. The woman who cursed Parker.”

“Why would she kill my boy?”

She whimpered. Dear Goddess, was this what he truly thought of her? “Why would I? I loved Ken, Scott. You know that.” Hell, Amara loved all the Madisons, and she’d thought they cared for her too. That feeling would never be the same now that Scott had accused her of killing Ken. Her heart ripped in two with loss and betrayal.

“You’re the only person capable of doing what happened in the market earlier. And I will never forgive you for it.”

But how could he not know that she was, above all else, a dryad? “I would never kill a tree. And I would never have hurt Ken.” She was sobbing now, barely coherent. She hung up the phone, but it was useless. There was no point in trying to convince the town she wasn’t a danger to them. She’d never harm a hair on their stupid fucking heads.

But it was time to find that fucking weed and pull her. Permanently.

Parker was damn near incoherent with rage. He’d come home to find Amara inconsolable and Brian weeping. Scott Madison had called Amara and blamed her for the deaths before he’d even left the market. It had taken him half the night to get Amara to sleep. The only reason he wasn’t out hunting the man who’d hurt her so badly was because he understood the man’s grief had been talking, not his sense. And Parker knew that when Scott came to understand the damage he’d done to an innocent woman, he’d be doubly grieved. But he found it hard to forgive and knew Amara would never forget. If it weren’t for her tree, he’d take her from this place and move her to where she could live in peace.

But even if he could somehow move her tree, she’d never leave. She loved this place, the house she’d grown up in, the town, even the brainless residents who should have known better. Amara would wither and die if he uprooted her.

No. He’d have to find some other way to convince the town that Amara, his sweet, gentle dryad, would never kill an innocent.

He paced back downstairs to find Brian sound asleep on the ugly camelback couch, his head resting on his arms. The tracks of his tears were visible, the scent of saltwater strong. The Renfield grieved not only for the two lost lives, but for Amara as well.

“Shhh. It took me a while, but he’s finally out. How’s Amara?”

Parker tiptoed past Brian and into the kitchen. “Pretty much the same as Bri. How could someone believe her capable of something like this? Why didn’t they look for another explanation?”

“It’s easy to blame the first target you come to, especially when you think you know what they’re capable of. People who are grieving do the strangest things. She’s different. And unless you can prove beyond a shadow of a doubt, people will believe Amara did it. Hell, even if you manage to find sufficient proof, there will still be people who think Amara got away with murder.”

Parker fought the growl rising in his throat. “I’ve been too damn passive about all of this. Why have I been so convinced that killing Terri would be wrong?”

“She’s killed before. I told you we should have done something about her, but you kept running away.”

Parker nodded. “I should have.” And because he hadn’t, more people had died and his sotiei might never recover. “I couldn’t bring myself to kill her. I’m not sure why.”

“Maybe the curse had something to do with it.”

“Like what?”

“The curse was designed to change your feeding habits, to make you crave only Terri, right? What if she didn’t know dryads existed and thought she was the only one you’d be able to feed from?”

“We’ve been over this before, Greg.”

“Bear with me.”

Parker moved over to the kitchen table and settled down wearily. He waved for Greg to continue.

“She knew what you were. What if she knew about singele sotiei? What if she was trying to mimic that? It’s possible your inability to kill her before was because the curse was messing with your senses, telling you she was your sotiei.”

“Then I met Amara and was no longer blinded?” It was possible. His strange aversion to hurting Terri had faded since meeting the dryad. “You may be on to something.”

“I think so. Brian’s been explaining the whole sotiei thing to me, and I’m beginning to understand exactly what that means to a vampire. She’s your everything, and with Terri messing with your senses—”

“My beast wouldn’t allow me to hurt her.” Parker tried to smile, but it wasn’t his best effort. “We need to straighten this out. Terri could decide at any moment to attack again, and the town will blame Amara.”

“They’ll come after her with torches and pitchforks. Or in her case, axes and chainsaws.”

Parker shuddered at the thought of anyone attacking Amara’s tree. Brian had told him a few things too, like kill the tree, kill the dryad.

“And they’d be defenseless against Terri.”

“Because they’d be preparing for a dryad, not a psycho witch with green-living issues.” Parker rubbed his eyes. “I have to go hunting.”

“Not alone, you don’t.”

Parker shook his head. “I won’t risk anyone else. Especially Brian or Amara.”

“Then ask that freaky-ass mayor to help.”

“Not sure if he can. He’s dealing with the fallout from the explosion today. Besides, he doesn’t know Terri’s scent.”

“Tell him to think rancid vegetables and putrefied roadkill.”

Parker snorted. “I’ll be back before sunrise.”

“You’d better. I don’t want to have to explain to those two that the wicked bitch got hold of you.”

Parker headed for the back door. “I’d tell you to lock up after me, but I know you can’t.”

“For this I’ll put forth the effort.” Moving physical objects was tiring for Greg, but he would do it to keep their lovers safe. “Be careful, Parker.”

Parker paused. He didn’t know if Terri could harm Greg. “You too.” He shut the door and stared up into the night sky. He smiled faintly when the lock snicked behind him.

Parker allowed his beast to surface. His eyes shifted, making the night bright as day. His claws and fangs descended. Parker jumped straight up and flew off into the night.

It was time to hunt his enemy.

It was time to kill.

Amara woke to a heavy weight across her middle. Her eyes were gritty, her mouth tasted like dead skunk and she had to pee like nobody’s business. She lifted Parker’s arm off her bladder and scuttled into the bathroom to take care of her body’s urgent memo to go go go.

She reached for her toothbrush and stared at herself in the mirror. Her eyes were red-rimmed and swollen. Her skin was blotchy from crying, her hair a rat’s nest of red waves. The worst part was she felt worse than she looked.

Ken was dead.

Amara brushed her teeth and showered. She pulled out her uniform and her hiking boots and wrapped her wet hair in a ponytail. She got dressed quietly, despite knowing Parker wouldn’t wake up before nightfall. The vampire slept deeply, his chest unmoving in the dim light. She pressed a soft kiss to his forehead and headed downstairs to grab a bite to eat.

“Morning, Bri.” She moved past the Renfield to reach for the orange juice.

“Morning, Amara.” The Renfield pulled her into a hug. For a second Amara leaned on him, giving in to the need for human comfort, knowing Brian needed the same. “This sucks eggs.”

“Yeah.” Amara pulled free and finished making her breakfast of muesli and juice. “What’re your plans for the day?”

“Weed killer. Lots of it. And paperwork. You?”

“I’m going to talk to Rock about being reassigned.”

Brian winced. “Ouch.”

“Yeah. I’m going to head into the forest, see if maybe Terri is hiding out there. It’s the best place for a weed to grow undetected.”

“Good point. I’m going to do my best to get the town meeting under way.”

Amara’s brows rose. “Town meeting?”

“Parker was pissed when he got back from his hunt. He damn near lisped, his fangs were so long. He wants the town to know about Terri so they’ll stop accusing you and start blaming him.”

Amara blinked. “What?”

“He hopes they’ll all condemn him for bringing Terri into town and leave you alone.” Brian shrugged. “I tried to argue with him, but when a vampire starts lisping, a Renfield starts nodding and yes, sir-ing.”

Amara wanted to bang her head on the table. If the townspeople decided to blame Parker, they’d hunt him down and kill him. Hell, she was surprised no one had tried to hunt her yet. “Tell him to hold off on the blame game. Or better yet, I’ll do it when I get home.” She’d have to have a long talk with her lover about the wisdom of pissing off an entire town of supernaturals. The weres alone would tear him to pieces without a second thought. Everyone, even Noah Wulfenbach, had loved Ken Madison. For his death alone the pack would want blood. “I’ll see you tonight. Tell Greg I said bye.”

“I will.” Brian looked sad. “He hasn’t spoken much today. I think he guarded us last night, and it took a lot out of him. He’s tired, and if he expends too much energy, he could fade away or be pulled to the other side of the Veil.”

“Tell him not to overdo it.” She couldn’t begin to imagine what Parker would do if he lost Greg. “We need him here too much, okay?”

Brian nodded, and Amara left, praying whatever shit was about to hit the fan did so far away from the people she loved most.

It didn’t take long to get from her house to the learning center. Rock was waiting, his thick arms crossed over his massive chest, patient as the stone he was named for. “Morning, Amara.”

Amara locked the jeep and pulled her hat low over her eyes. “Morning, Rock. We need to talk.”

Rock led the way into the center. “Talk.”

“I can’t take the kids.”

Rock didn’t even break stride. “Why?”

Amara filled him in on what happened the night before and the reaction of the townsfolk. “So if they see I’m the one leading the group, they’ll pull the kids.”

Rock grunted. “Going hunting?”

Amara almost sagged with relief; Rock understood and, more important, approved. “Yeah.”

He went into his office and pulled down a shotgun. “Need this?”

“Nope. I’ve got it covered.” She permitted bark to surface on her hands. “Do me a favor? Keep an eye out. If something smells rotten, it might be. Guard your back.”

“Will do.” Rock put his hand on her shoulder, the heavy weight reassuring her that Rock could take care of himself and probably every person in the center. There were surprising depths to the earth elemental that few people took the time to appreciate. He was much stronger than he allowed others to realize; only his closest friends knew how strong. “Take care. I have a bad feeling about today.”

Amara nodded. She’d be doubly on her guard. Rock’s bad feelings tended to be understatements. The last time he’d had one a Rakshasa had shown up at the center demanding the head of the weredragon. He’d refused to believe there was no weredragon and never had been. It had taken Rock hours to get the idiot to leave, and the damage to the center had been extensive.

The Rakshasa had been very stubborn.

She’d better be prepared for Armageddon if he was taking the time to warn her. “Thanks.”

“Amara?”

“Hmm?”

“Make sure you come back. Any way you have to.”

It was sweet the way Rock looked out for her. She couldn’t wait to introduce him to Parker. “I will.”

She stepped outside and scented the morning air. Crisp and clean and full of green, growing things, the fragrance usually left her feeling invigorated. Today she had to wonder what rot lurked under the clean odor. She left for the woods before the first students arrived, determined to stay away from the residents of Maggie’s Grove for however long it took to find Terri and snap her like a twig.

A few hours later the late-spring heat was beginning to wear on her. She’d found no sign of the witch, but plenty of signs of the local werewolf pack. They often ran together on the nights of the full moon, dancing under Her light and reveling together in ways a nonwere would never understand. But last night hadn’t been a full moon, so why were they out running as a pack? Did they have a new member?

A low growl sounded behind her. Amara froze, knowing what that sound meant. That wasn’t the sexy Parker growl, or even the one where his beast had come forth, determined to protect her.

This growl was the one of a wolf on the hunt.

The pack was after her. It didn’t take more than a second for her to realize it was fight or die. The next second was spent dropping her backpack and racing through the trees as fast as her limbs would carry her.

The pack had forgotten something. They thought the forest belonged to them.

They were wrong.

Amara’s thoughts whispered through the trees, danced across the grass, lifting roots to trip paws and branches to whip into snouts. The forest rose in defense of one of their own, and the weres yelped in pain and surprise as it turned against them.

Amara’s feet flew across the ground, fast on her home turf. The pack had been foolish to confront her here, where she was strongest. She felt the energy flowing through her, the forest gifting her with its strength. Her skin tingled. Her bark covered her, protecting her from claws and teeth. The red leaves of her maple swirled around her as she grew. Soon she’d be ready to face them.

They were gaining on her, would be on her soon. She’d need to face them, teach them not to chase a dryad in the woods. Let them learn the true power of the forest they played in, hunted in. This might be the wolves’ playground, but it was Amara’s spiritual home, and she knew every square inch of it.

Ah. There. The perfect spot to confront the pack. Amara turned and let loose her own howl, grinding the sound out until the trees swayed before her, bowing to her will.

Silence fell as her challenge ended. Amara waited, patient as the forest itself. The foolish pups would be unable to stop themselves from answering her challenge.

One by one they stepped out from between the trees, from underneath bushes, their hackles raised, their teeth bared. They would attack her, destroy her if they could, to protect the town from the menace they thought she was.

And for that alone Amara would let them live. They were protecting their own. She could understand that. But she refused to lie down and bare her neck to the pack alpha for something she hadn’t done.

They stared at one another, the dryad and the wolves. No birds sang, no insects chirped. The forest waited for the first move in a battle that could change Maggie’s Grove forever.

It was a wolf who moved first, leaping through the air, snarling, enraged. A branch whipped out, knocking the wolf to the forest floor. And it was on.

Amara’s consciousness sank into the trees and plants surrounding her. They became extensions of her limbs; their thoughts became hers. She knew without turning that a young wolf was sneaking up on her. A sturdy birch entangled him in its branches before he could lay one paw on her.

Before her, the alpha snapped and snarled, held back by the thorns of a bush that had moved in front of him. Another tree bound a wolf in its roots, holding the wriggling form until the wolf gave up, panting under the weight of dirt and wood. Amara shifted forms, allowed her inner self out in defense not only of herself, but the wolves as well. She twisted and turned, careful not to do lasting damage to the creatures in front of her. A body fell under one of her blows, unmoving but alive. She swung at another and heard the snap of bone, knew she’d broken one of the wolf’s legs. The wolf whimpered and maneuvered out of the fight.

They weren’t the ones who needed killing. Maybe someday they’d understand that neither was she.

Soon only the alpha and beta of the pack remained. Both were tired, but so was Amara. It had taken a great deal of her energy to fight off the entire pack, and she’d need to commune with her tree to recoup a lot of it.

The alpha, sensing the weakness in her defenses, leaped. Amara had no time to react.

A root wrapped around the alpha’s throat, effectively collaring him, chaining him to the forest floor. Amara reeled back, stunned.

How? She hadn’t done that.

The beta, sensing his pack was defeated, howled in rage but bared his throat, submissive before the victor. But a swaying tree picked the beta up and curled its branches around him, dangling him above Amara’s head.

The pack was beaten. She’d won.

Sort of.

“Sister.”

Amara slowly turned, stunned to see the true dryads of Maggie’s Grove fanned out behind her. The rulers of the forest had finally come forth from the Throne to pass judgment on her.

Amara bowed and hoped Parker would understand. She had the feeling she was going to be late for dinner.

Chapter Seven

Parker paced the length of the town hall’s meeting room. His shoes squeaked on the shiny hardwood floor with every turn. His position on the raised platform where the mayor and town council sat ensured he’d see every single person who filed through those doors.

Something was wrong. Amara hadn’t come home from work, and she wasn’t answering her cell phone. Parker clenched his fists. If anyone had harmed a single hair on his sotiei’s head, theirs would roll.

A low voice softly chanted the casuta, and he realized he’d gone damn near feral. He took a deep breath and allowed the chant to soothe the beast within him.

“Parker, it’s time.”

Without opening his eyes, he asked Dragos the most important question of the night. “Is she here?”

“No.”

The low growl he emitted would have warned away a lesser being than Dragomir Ibanescu. Parker opened his eyes to find the audience staring at him, some hostile, some fearful, some merely curious as to who or what he might be.

Well. They were about to find out.

Parker took his seat next to Dragos and watched the silence that descended on the people of Maggie’s Grove. He hoped they were worried. He prayed they were scared. It might be the only way to save their lives.

A woman sitting on Dragos’s left rose on pointy stilettos. Parker wrinkled his nose. The woman smelled subtly wrong, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on why. He was willing to bet this was Kate, the witch Selena disliked so much.

“This emergency meeting is hereby called to order. Mayor Dragomir Ibanescu presiding.” Something about the way the woman spoke Dragos’s name confirmed this was, indeed, the mysterious Kate. “We have a few corrections to last month’s minutes. Do we agree to waive those until the standard meeting? All in favor say aye.”

The rafters shook at the unanimous sound. The man seated on Parker’s left made a note on his netbook. He had to be the town secretary, because he grinned, winked and showed Parker what he was working on.

Parker damn near swallowed his tongue trying not to laugh. Bitch called meeting to order. Bitch called for vote, i.e., corrections. Town voted aye. Bitch sat down. Thank God and amen.

“She hasn’t sat yet,” Parker pointed out.

The man rolled his eyes and hit the delete key. “One can hope, can’t one?” He pushed his glasses up his nose. “Dominic Davis. Pleased to meet you.”

“Parker Hollis.”

Dominic slowly smiled at him. “Aren’t you—” They were interrupted when Kate cleared her throat. “We have two new residents of Maggie’s Grove. Parker Hollis, vampire, and Gregory West, apparition, now reside at 213 Ghost Haven Lane. Please welcome them to the community.”

Most of the audience didn’t make a move. Some clapped, some waved. One or two turned away. Parker made note of them all. He wanted to attach names to those faces.

“What a warm, fuzzy town. Why did I tell you to move here again?”

“You had a vision.”

“Oh yeah. Next time I have a deathbed vision, ignore me. We’d get a warmer reception at the Vatican.”

Parker hid a grin behind his hand.

The woman opened her mouth to speak again, but Dragos stopped her by the simple expedient of standing. He waved her to her seat, and she took it, staring up at him with adoring eyes.

“There’s something fishy about that woman.”

Parker agreed. Something was off about the brunette, something that reminded him of Terri. He’d have to talk to Amara about it, after he spanked her ass for scaring the shit out of him.

“It is time to honor our dead.” Dragos’s eastern European accent had thickened, whether in sorrow or anger or both, Parker wasn’t sure. “Kenneth Madison, aged seventeen.” Parker winced. The kid really had been a kid. “Steven Wu, aged thirty-four.” The other victim of the exploding tree. One of the bits of shrapnel had gone through the back of the man’s head, severing his spinal cord and almost taking his head off. “I call for a moment of silence as we pray for our departed.”

All the heads in the hall bowed, including Parker’s. He felt somewhat responsible for bringing this evil to Maggie’s Grove, but he’d finally figured out Terri was the only one responsible for her actions. He had the feeling that, like most stalkers, if he had given in to her, anyone he cared about would be in danger, even if it was only in friendship. That reminds me. I need to figure out a better way to protect Brian. If anything happened to the Renfield, Greg would be inconsolable.

Who knew Greg would find the love of his life after death?

“Thank you.” Dragos didn’t speak loudly, but his voice echoed through the room, his vampiric powers ensuring he would be heard despite the lack of a microphone. “This meeting has been called to discuss the events at the farmers’ market yesterday evening that resulted in two deaths and countless injuries. The murderer will be caught. I promise you that.”

Way to keep the masses calm, Dragos. Parker prepared himself for one hell of a fight. Most of these people believed Amara had killed Ken and Mr. Wu, and Parker had to convince them otherwise while the word murderer rang in their ears.

“We believe we know who the intended target of the attack was and who was responsible.” Gasps filled the room. “At this point I would like to hand the floor over to Dr. Parker Hollis, the man who truly understands what is happening to us.”

Parker stood, ignoring the mutters from the crowd. He held up his hands for silence, not surprised when he didn’t get it. He sent forth his will, used his powers to whisper in their ears. “Do you want to know what happened, or don’t you?”

The murmurs reluctantly died down.

“Good. As some of you may know, I labor under a curse. What you don’t know is this curse was bestowed upon me by an insane witch who believed that by changing both herself and my dietary needs, I would form the singele sotiei bond with her, thus taking her as my blood wife and feeding from no other. The bond is irresistible, unforgettable, similar to the mate bond weres experience.” The vampires in the crowd turned paler than normal, horrified by the perversion of a sacred bond. The shock on the faces of the nonvampires showed they understood exactly how serious Terri’s crime was. “I knew when I met my sotiei that she was the one, but Terri believed she could influence the bond by turning herself into what my sotiei calls a weed and changing me into a vampire who could only drink green, leafy blood.” Some of the vampires in the audience smirked, but Parker didn’t care. He’d lived with this curse for over fifty years. He doubted any of them would have done better. “I found myself unable to kill her, no matter how desperately I wished to. Something stayed my hand, and because of that, I humbly apologize.”

One vampire in the back spoke up. “If you felt she was your sotiei, why didn’t you claim her?”

“Because some part of me understood she wasn’t. She frightened me in ways I can’t possibly explain. The few times she caught up to me, I ran as fast and as far as I could, but Terri always seems to find me. And now I have found my sotiei, and I believe Terri is taking revenge.”

“Amara killed them by making that tree explode, not some fairy-tale wicked witch! Stop trying to protect her with lies!”

Several of the townsfolk shouted their agreement. He prayed it wasn’t one of the Madisons or Wus; that would break Amara’s heart. “No. Amara didn’t kill anyone. She’s a dryad, incapable of harming a tree. Terri is the one most likely to be responsible. She was a witch before she cursed us both, and that power resides within her. She would think nothing of taking a life to get to me. Indeed, she’s done it before.”

At that the shouting turned angry. “Silence.” Dragos’s voice whispered across the room, and his power flowed with it, staggering in its intensity. Silence fell, instantaneous and total. Parker could barely hear them breathing.

Parker had a hard time getting his voice to work. Damn, Dragos was strong. “Please, try to remember, I was incapable of harming Terri before I found my sotiei. My beast believed there was a connection between us and refused to allow me to kill her. It was fight or flight, and every time, I was forced to choose flight. If I had not found my sotiei, I would be fleeing right now.”

“Is it true? Is Amara your sotiei?”

He didn’t recognize the voice, but the features could only belong to one of Brian’s siblings, and he sounded like he was on Parker’s side. “Yes, Amara is my true sotiei.” Parker leaned on the table and growled, “Speaking of which, have any of you seen her?” He allowed enough of the beast out to remind them of the threat he’d made in the market before all hell had broken loose. He wondered if his announcement there was what had triggered Terri’s wrath. “By the way, now that I have her, my beast is no longer confused. I am free to kill anyone who threatens her.” He let that sink in before adding, almost as an afterthought, “Including Terri.” His eyes turned red, but he kept his voice mild, knowing the effect it would have. “Now. Where is my wife?”

No one answered. Their guilt was matched by their defiance. “I still think Amara did it,” one woman shouted. “How do we know you aren’t protecting your sotiei? Do you know what she truly is? She’s an abomination!”

Parker was nose to nose with the woman before anyone, even the other vampires in the room, could blink. The only one who might have been able to stop him had chosen not to. “I’m sorry.” His fangs were fully extended, the hunt burning red in his eyes, an open threat to the woman who’d dared malign his wife. She couldn’t run fast enough to escape him, and they both knew it, the knowledge obvious on her pale, suddenly sweating face. “Would you care to repeat that?”

“Parker.”

He stiffened in all the right places at the sound of that voice. “Amara.” He turned from his victim and grinned at his woman. “You’re late.”

She was filthy, tired, covered in leaves and had long scratches down her legs he was going to ask her about as soon as he got his hands on her. She wasn’t in the uniform he knew she’d left the house in, but jean shorts and a T-shirt that were both too big. Their scent matched one of the people standing with her.

What had happened to his wife in the forest?

“I was unavoidably detained.” She gestured behind her, and the rest of the people in the room began talking at once.

“Greer Berkeley.” Arms wide, Greer bowed, the gesture flamboyant. His gaze raked the townsfolk. His expression said he found them wanting, and his grin suggested he could have some fun with that. He had blond hair so light it was almost white, streaked with an orange that was barely visible. His eyes were pale brown.

“Mina Chainey.” The woman nodded but didn’t smile. She had hair as dark as the richest earth and eyes to match. She was roughly the same height as Selena, perhaps an inch or two taller.

He was beginning to think the dryads had a serious problem with the people of Maggie’s Grove.

“And last, Ashton Ward.”

Ashton’s stance was easy, but something about the way he held himself said he wasn’t a man to fuck with. His hair and eyes were so bright a green it rivaled the freshest grass of spring.

“These are three of the ruling dryads of Maggie’s Grove.”

Parker bowed, much less flamboyantly than Greer. “Parker Hollis, at your service.”

Mina Chainey beamed. “You’re the botanist who moved into town. The one who’s been working on The Greenhouse exhibit.” Parker nodded, and Mina’s shoulders relaxed. “Your work has been exceptional.” In fact, all three of the dryads relaxed, moving with that same easy grace he’d noticed in Amara.

“Thank you, but how do you know that?”

Greer laughed, the sound light as wind through leaves. “Because we own The Greenhouse.”

Oh dear. These were his bosses. Fancy that. Parker maneuvered around the townsfolk, careful not to hurt any of them. His claws were out, his beast raging, but he battled it back until he could meet Greer’s eyes. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He held out his hand and was glad Greer chose to accept it.

“And you. Amara has told us quite a bit about you.”

For the first time, Parker understood the term meet the parents. “Um. Yes.”

Ashton winked. “Call me Ash.”

Mina shook his hand last. “I was especially pleased with your display of endangered asters.”

“Thank you.” Amara settled in against his side, and he put his arm around her shoulders. “It’s been my pleasure to work on the display.” The last thing he wanted to do was give the impression his boss had worked him like ten horses to get it done on time.

“Indeed. Mollie Ferguson has told us what an asset you’ve been. She’s very pleased and has recommended we give you the curator position that opened up.”

She had? And here he’d thought the woman wanted to see him slow-roasted. “Oh. Well. I’m delighted she’s happy.”

“You three never leave the forest, never take part in what happens in town. So why the fuck are you here, and why did you bring her? Is she here to turn herself in?”

Parker growled at the man pointing at Amara. The man stared back, seemingly unafraid, but Parker could scent his terror. Brave. Foolish but brave. He hissed at the man, pleased when he sat back down so hard he bounced. Parker turned back to the dryads, surprised to find them all grinning. “I’m sorry. If you have no interest in the town’s doings, why are you here?”

The three exchanged glances. It was Ash who spoke. “Because Amara needs us.”

“Amara is one of us.” Mina walked toward the council table, the two male dryads following closely behind.

Greer waved cheerfully. “Hello, Dragos. Missed us?”

Dragos shook his head at the blond dryad. “No.”

Greer laughed again. “Same old dragon. Grouchy as hell.”

Mina, her hand on her hip, seemed amused by the elder vampire but didn’t say a word.

When Amara tugged on Parker’s hand, he allowed her to pull him forward. He had the feeling he was about to get a front-row seat to something very interesting. From Kate’s sour look, it was going to be a great deal of fun. Or horror. One or the other.

Parker could go either way.

The dryads lined up in front of the platform, with Parker in the middle. Mina spoke up again. “Dragos. You have a weed that needs pulling.” The familiar words had Parker smiling once more. Mina tsk-tsked like she was chastising a child. “Why weren’t we notified?” She tapped her foot, ignoring the renewed mutters of the crowd, her attention concentrated solely on the mayor.

“Did Amara tell you of Terri?” Dragos rested his chin on his hand. Any sense he was actually in charge had fled the moment Mina and company set foot in the town hall. He couldn’t seem to take his eyes away from the dark-haired, dark-eyed dryad.

“No. We became aware of it when the tree exploded in the market. When the wolves attacked Amara—”

“What?” Parker clenched his fists. Dragos’s fascination with Mina could wait. Fury flew through him. Someone had attacked his sotiei when he wasn’t there to protect her.

“Down, boy.” Amara stroked his arm. “I took care of it.”

“Boy, did she.” Ash’s evil grin was alarming. “They’re dangling from the trees like furry fruit.”

“Are they dead? Did she kill my mate?”

The naiad who’d been carted out by her werewolf mate at Monster Movie Night stood, wringing her hands.

“No. I killed none of them.” Amara tightened her grip on his arm.

“Although she would have been well within her rights.” Mina’s glare scraped the crowd raw. “They attacked without provocation or warning. Had she been anything other than what she is, she would be dead.”

Parker saw red. Only Amara’s touch and the soft chant Brian began kept him from losing control over his beast, hunting down that furry fruit and picking it until it bled. “Who?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Amara took his head in her hands and faced his beast. “It’s done. If they haven’t learned their lesson, perhaps a night helpless in the woods will teach it.”

“Where they’re vulnerable to anything that comes along,” an anonymous voice yelled. “And who is to say she didn’t kill them and is standing here lying to us now?”

Ugly murmurs began yet again. Dragos was preparing for the moment when Parker finally lost it.

Ash faced the townsfolk. “We saw everything. Amara was the victim, not the entire wolf pack of Maggie’s Grove.”

All the wolves? All of them? “Even Jason?” Parker growled.

Amara started. “Jason?”

“Right here.” The wolf waved, his face red. He had a fresh scar along one cheek, the mark of a claw. Parker hadn’t damaged the were; had Jason’s alpha done that? “I didn’t go. I didn’t think it was right.”

Huh. The only wolf who would survive this was the one he hadn’t expected to act sensibly. “Good.”

“Parker. Let it go, sourpuss.”

That got his attention. He stared at Amara, and the beast receded at the sight of his sotiei’s smile. “Sourpuss, eh?”

“I humiliated them, proved I’m stronger than all of them. Let them live with that.”

He ground his teeth. He really wanted someone to hurt, but he bowed his head. “As you wish.” He lifted her hand to his lips, his eyes on the crowd. He wanted everyone to know that only Amara could stay his wrath. Maybe it would make them think twice before taking her on.

Besides, if she had left the entire Maggie’s Grove wolf pack dangling from the trees, his wife had proven beyond a doubt that she could take care of herself. Let them chew on that for a bit.

“What’s being done to bring the witch to justice?” Mina returned their attention to what was important: finding and stopping Terri.

“We’re going to try to lure her into the open.” Dragos relaxed only marginally, meeting Mina’s challenge head-on. “We could use Parker and Amara as bait.”

“Not Amara.” Parker spoke without thought, his first instinct to protect Amara.

The elbow that dug into his side was sharp and pointy. “Yes Amara.”

He glared at her.

She glared back. “Don’t you growl at me, mister.” They both ignored the startled chuckles of the townsfolk. “She killed Ken. I want her to hurt.” There was horrible pain in her eyes, pain that should not be there. She’d truly loved that boy.

He had to find Terri, and soon, before she did any more damage.

He cupped her cheek and tried one last tactic, knowing it would fail. “I won’t be able to control myself if she harms you. You know that.”

She leaned into his caress. “Then don’t. Feel free to kick her ass big-time. Please. I want to watch. I’ll even bring popcorn and a video camera so we can relive the happy moment over and over.”

“So? How are we luring her out? Are we using this meeting? Because if I were her, and unafraid to attack in public, this is the first place I’d go.” Greer walked the rest of the way onto the platform, his blond hair glowing brightly under the lights.

“We need the wolves.” Dragos stared at Greer. “Amara, please free them.”

“No.” Mina held up her hand, imperious down to her toes. “The wolves stay where they are. They attacked Amara. They need to be taught a lesson, a hard one.”

“And if they don’t learn it?” Dragos followed Greer with his eyes, frowning slightly when Greer stole Dragos’s seat. He seemed puzzled by the dryad with the easygoing smile.

“Hi. I’m Greer. And you are?” The dryad held out his hand to Kate. She ignored him, shuffling papers on the table, but the tense set of her shoulders screamed her disdain. Greer shrugged and put his hands behind his head, but Parker caught a brief glimpse of mischief and wondered what he was up to.

“Then they find another place to hunt.” Kate sniffed, scooting away, but Greer grabbed her seat and pulled her closer, to her dismay. “They could always try heading west. Say, Alaska?”

“No, they couldn’t.” Ash hopped onto the table. He crossed his legs and blocked Kate’s view of the crowd with his broad back. “The feral dryads living there already know what happened, and they’re a little more aggressive than we city folk are. Not a single wolf would return if they went there.”

There were gasps in the crowd. “What?” The naiad was on her feet again. “Why?”

Mina turned on the woman. “You idiot. You fool! Haven’t you been listening? The pack attacked a dryad in the woods, and not just any dryad. They attacked a fucking hamadryad!”

Amara stiffened. “A what?”

Where had Parker heard that term before?

Ash’s mouth went tight. “Glinda knew you were different, but she didn’t understand how different. We tried to explain it to her, but she was afraid of what you might be subjected to if you found out what your true purpose is. You were far too young to take up your duties when you first shifted. You could have been killed.”

“And until you felt ready to talk with us, we couldn’t interfere.” Greer’s expression was serious for once. “You weren’t old enough, and Glinda wanted you to have as normal a childhood as possible. As she was your guardian, we were forced to comply with her wishes, whether we wanted to or not, until you came of age.”

“She came of age years ago,” Parker pointed out.

“Not for a tree, she didn’t. Schwedler maples are full grown at—”

“Twenty-five years.” Parker groaned even as Ash nodded.

“And that is when we could have interfered despite Glinda’s wishes. Until then?” Ash shrugged. “We were forced to stay away, no matter how badly we wanted to teach her, bring her into the fold. She’s…precious.” The awe on his face when he looked at Amara had Parker’s hackles rising.

Greer kicked his feet up on the table, narrowly missing Kate’s coffee cup. “A hamadryad is literally one with her tree in ways no ordinary dryad can possibly understand. It’s like the psychics and sensitives among humans. They have senses normal humans don’t. You commune with your tree the same way a normal dryad does, but when your life or the life of something you care about is in danger, you can be partly tree, using the strength and stamina of the forest to protect and defend. You are a guardian in the truest sense of the word, and to attack you is to attack every dryad, every tree and plant, every elemental in that forest. The only reason those wolves who attacked you lived is because you chose to show them mercy. If you hadn’t, the forest would have finished what you’d begun. With or without you.”

The room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

Mina piped up, her gaze raking over the townsfolk. “There is no being rarer than the hamadryad, not even the Meliae.”

Parker cleared his throat. Mina winked at him. “Except vegetarian vampires.”

Parker made sure he had a good grip on Amara’s elbows. “So basically you’re telling me she’s a weretree.”

The dryads gaped. Amara rolled her eyes.

Greer threw his head back and laughed, nearly tipping his chair over.

“Uh. Yes. I suppose that’s one way to look at it.” Ash looked like he wanted to laugh too, but he didn’t.

“And you three are?”

The dryads exchanged a glance.

“Oak, Birch and Ash—we rule the forest and all its inhabitants,” Ash answered. “In the same way the alpha rules his pack, we rule the creatures who call the forest home.”

“And Oak rules them all.” Ash, Oak, Birch and Yew were the four sacred trees among the druids, with Oak reigning supreme. So where was Yew?

Mina nodded. “Very astute.” She raised her chin proudly. “And that means Amara is under my command.”

Parker stiffened at that but quickly let it go. It was no different than a ruling prince of a coven of vampires or a high priestess of the witches. “I’ll take good care of her.”

Amara snorted, but Mina looked delighted. “I know you will. But first we need to take care of your problem.”

Parker heard a gasp and a thud.

“Sorry,” Greer muttered, helping Kate to her feet. Somehow he’d managed to knock her chair over, with her in it. “Here, let me get that for you.” He brushed at Kate’s skirt, specifically her rear end.

“Greer.” Dragos took a step forward and reached for him.

Kate’s skirt hit the floor. She shrieked and covered her black lace panties with her hands.

“Oops. So, so sorry.” Greer bent over and tried to pick up the skirt. His backside collided with Dragos, knocking the vamp back. Greer pulled, and the sound of fabric tearing filled the air. “Uh-oh.”

“Greer!” Mina snapped. “Stop playing and pay attention.”

Greer handed the ripped skirt back to the half-naked woman. “It will only take a moment to repair it, Mina.”

“No, Greer.”

Dragos reached for Greer again, but the man danced aside.

“Dragos, do something!” Kate shrieked, holding the ruined skirt in front of her panties.

Parker’s eyes damn near crossed. The woman had a hell of a set of lungs on her.

“I take it back. I like this town.”

Greer leaped over the table and landed lightly next to Mina. “I say we take Parker and Amara into the woods, set them loose and let Amara deal with Terri. It should only take a couple of days, right?” Mina shot him an irritated look. “What?”

“That won’t do.” Parker tugged Amara close again, unwilling to go any longer without her sweet touch. “I’ve got a bit of a sunlight allergy, remember? A few minutes too long and whoosh, crispy Parker.”

“Right. Sorry.” Greer actually blushed, looking more embarrassed than when he’d accidentally ripped Kate’s skirt off. Parker wondered what the hell that was all about. “Ash?”

Ash was staring at something in the crowd, or possibly someone. His shoulders were tight, his hands loose. If Parker didn’t know better, he’d swear the man was hunting.

Ash’s head whipped to the left. His eyes narrowed, his nostrils flared and he placed himself firmly in front of Mina.

Fuck. He was hunting.

Parker immediately went on alert. He sniffed the air, hoping to sense whatever was making Ash so tense.

“Ash?”

Mina grumbled when Ash didn’t answer. He kept his focus on the crowd…or the wall behind the crowd. He grasped Mina’s wrist and kept her behind him when she tried to move past.

Something tickled the back of Parker’s throat. It tasted foul, fetid.

Rotten.

“Terri.” He started searching for that elusive stench, that horrible taste. She wouldn’t be in the crowd itself. There was no way she could blend in with so many supernaturals. But she was powerful enough to damage the building and everyone in it without ever having to come inside. “Can we get everyone out?”

“No! I’m half-naked!”

Parker turned to Kate, who was still struggling with her skirt. The zipper had apparently broken. “Bloody hell, woman. A witch with a vendetta is somewhere nearby, and you’re worried about your fucking togs?”

An ominous creak reverberated through the wooden floor. The lights flickered. A cracking noise was swiftly followed by the sound of pebbles hitting the ground.

“Oh shit.” Amara, eyes wide, stared at one of the walls. “She’s using the garden around the building to bring it down.”

“Parker,” Terri’s voice crooned, coming from everywhere at once. “Come to me, my love.”

“How the hell is she doing that?” Brian gagged. “Gods above, I can feel her in my head. It’s like my brain is coated in slime.”

“Everyone out!” Parker bellowed, using what power he had to force everyone to obey.

There was a stampede toward the front door, but when the first wave of people hit it, the door refused to open. It was jammed shut.

“I’m really beginning to dislike this witch-bitch of yours, Parker.” Dragos stepped off the platform into thin air. “We need to take her down before she kills the entire town to get to you.” He held out his hands, and a screeching noise, like branches being viciously scraped across a car, assaulted their ears. Dragos was trying to force the doors open telekinetically.

He was failing. And he looked utterly stunned by that fact.

Parker refrained from telling him he wasn’t the first person to underestimate the witch.

“Uh-uh, naughty, naughty.” Terri giggled. “I’ll tell you what—give me Parker and I’ll let you all live.” Plaster rained down on their heads; women screamed as a huge crack appeared in the ceiling.

“Out of my way, everyone.”

Parker turned to find Amara had assumed her hamadryad form. She lumbered toward the door, the townsfolk scattering away from her like sheep before a wolf. She placed her hands on the door and shoved, straining against the weight. Dragos resumed using his mind to help, but nothing happened. Whatever Terri was using to barricade the door was tough.

Plaster landed on Parker’s head. He looked up to find the ceiling riddled with cracks. A sharp snap had him cursing, but it was breaking glass that got him moving. He peered out one of the windows, using his enhanced night vision to see how bad things were.

All he saw was a sea of writhing green. He snapped his head back as a thorn poked through the window, damn near taking his eye out.

“Oh no, you don’t.” A tendril wiggled through the broken panes, wrapped around the lintel and snaked up the wall. Wherever it went, it left tiny cracks behind, which branched into more cracks. “You can save them from this. Just come outside. Join me, Parker.”

Soon the wall would be nothing but cracks and would fall, killing anyone in the way. Sprays of pollen formed and burst, drifting in the air. “We’re in deep trouble.” He bit his lip, thinking hard. The vampires could get out by misting, but that would leave everyone inside to face the fate Terri had in store for them. Knowing Terri, any vamp who demisted on the other side would be facing something horrific, and they’d be without protections of any kind. Enough puncture wounds would kill a vamp without ever touching his heart. She had to know that. She was crazy, but she’d never been stupid.

He couldn’t use fire. Burning the foliage would only enclose the victims in an oven, baking everything and everyone along with the vegetation. He had no way to freeze the plants, unless…

He grabbed the naiad who had stood up for her wolf mate. “Can you freeze water?”

She shook her head. “No. I can move water, but I can’t boil it or freeze it, not without help.”

“From what?”

“For boiling? A stove. For ice, I like my refrigerator.”

Smart-ass. “But you can influence water?”

“Yes,” she drawled, obviously thinking him a madman.

He tugged her over toward the window. “Can you work with the water inside the plants?”

She gasped. “Of course! Why didn’t I think of that?” She rolled up her sleeves. “Stand back.”

Parker obeyed and hoped she got it right. If not, they were all dead.

Amara pushed and pushed, but nothing happened. The door remained stubbornly shut. “I need help!”

A pair of hands joined hers, their stony grip sure and steady. “I’m here.”

Rock. She’d recognize those hands anywhere. “Thanks.”

“Me too.” Another pair joined Rock’s, pale and small, the nails bright red. She hissed as she pushed. Amara recognized her as one of the vamps who’d cried out that she was guilty.

“Anyone else who wants to help, see if you can find another way out.” She couldn’t run the risk of doing more harm than good. Too much force could take the entire wall out.

She pushed, her muscles straining, and considered taking out the wall anyway. Soon it would be too late. The creaks and groans of the building told her the structure might soon fall on their heads, killing everyone inside.

Then something happened. The plants on the other side of the door quivered. She could feel their pain, but they were tainted, weeds of the worst kind, and she felt very little sympathy for them.

The door moved.

“Bad Parker. No cookie for you.” The voice had grown more distant, weaker. Terri was losing strength.

“Keep pushing!” Whatever was happening, the plants were losing their strength. Out of the corner of her eye she glimpsed a withered, limp leaf falling to the floor. “What the hell?”

“Push now, talk later.” Rock never let up. He kept the pressure going, digging his fingers into the metal door. He didn’t even sound winded, but that was an earth elemental for you. Their strength was rooted in the ground they stood on.

Water lapped at Amara’s feet. “Have the pipes burst?” The town’s witches chanted, the spell they wove keeping the ruined ceiling from collapsing.

“Dunno,” the vamp with the painted nails grunted. “Keep pushing.”

Amara pushed. The door gave some more, the groan of metal and wood shuddering through the room. “It’s gonna give.”

With a shriek, the door burst open. Dry twigs snapped. Dust and pollen swirled around them in a rank, dry cloud.

Rock sneezed.

“Bless you.” The female vamp took a step back, waving her hand in front of her face.

Rock glanced down at the vamp, his nose wrinkling. “Thank you.”

Amara stepped through the door and into the wreckage of the gardens around the town hall. Every single plant was withered and dead. The tree that had once shaded the hall was leafless, its branches creaking in the wind. It looked ready to topple over at any moment. The roses Glinda had planted were gone, broken and twisted by the rampaging weeds.

She stared around at the carnage jealousy had wrought and felt the fire burning in her belly burst into a goddamn volcano. “I’m going to kill that bitch.”

Dominic Davis stepped carefully over the rubble and pushed up his glasses. “Amen.”

Chapter Eight

The town hall was no longer structurally sound. The plants had, in a short amount of time, nearly destroyed the building. Hundreds of lives would have been lost had the building come down.

All to get to Parker.

Parker sighed and put his hands on his head. He tugged his hair. “How do I fix this?”

“By not being a pussy. Find the bitch, kill her, live happily ever after. The end.”

Right. Like that was ever the end. Happily ever after took hard work, but Parker was willing to put that work in. Finding his sotiei didn’t mean his life would suddenly become a bed of roses.

At least she’d never have to yell at him for leaving the toilet seat up.

Brian sat next to him on the curb. They were across from the town hall, staring at the ruins. Amara was over there with the other dryads, draped in nothing but his shirt, trying to figure out if any of the plants had survived the carnage. He could have answered that.

Thanks to the thorns waving around the windows, the naiad hadn’t been able to pick out the plants individually, saving plant from weed. She’d been forced to call water from all the plants, draining them dry, letting them wither and die a rapid, arid death. That life-giving water now seeped through the cracks of the town hall’s floor, mere inches from the roots of the plants it had once nourished.

“Shit. Dragos and Kate are going at it.”

Parker looked where Brian pointed, uncaring that Dragos was having domestic problems. Kate screamed at Dragos, her long, occasionally pointing at Mina, Greer and Ash with her clawlike nails. Dragos stood with his arms crossed, his expression as cold as ice, his lips compressed into a thin line. “And?”

“Kate is the town treasurer.”

“Fuck. Double fuck.” Not good at all. “You think she’ll try to talk him out of rebuilding?”

“Possibly.” Brian sighed, his shoulders slumping. “Doubt she’ll lift her hand for us now, even to give us the finger.” Not that Parker wanted anyone who smelled as bad as Kate near Amara. He was surprised Dragos couldn’t sense how foul the woman was. Did she have him wrapped up in some sort of spell? If she was as bad as Parker sensed, he wouldn’t be surprised.

Damn. Once they were done dealing with Terri, he’d be trying to free another vampire from another evil witch. He groaned and covered his hands. So much for the white picket fence and two-point-four vamplings.

Amara walked toward them, fierce fury on her beautiful face. He was surprised she’d reverted to human, considering how angry she was. He stood to meet her. “All done, my sweet?”

Her lips curved, but she didn’t respond the way he’d hoped. “I need to go home.” Parker held out his arms, and she stepped into them, shaking with grief and rage. “Explain to me again why the bitch isn’t dead.”

Parker sighed. “Confused vampire hormones. But I’m working on that.”

She shifted against him. He knew it was a result of the rage and the fear, but her nipples were like pinpricks against his naked chest. Suddenly all he could think about was getting her home, getting her naked and checking every single inch of her for wounds before licking her clean. His cock twitched in his jeans as he thought of taking her against the wall, the door. Possibly in the car on the way home. Hell, maybe there was a dark place around the corner, an alley or something where he could feel her around him, know she was safe and sound. He didn’t care that she was dirty and exhausted. All he cared about was reclaiming what was his. He felt his fangs descend as he thought of having her in the jeep, leaving his scent all over it. “We’ll take your car.” She pulled away. “Brian, you take mine.”

Brian glanced over at him. Whatever he saw, he turned away quickly, but not before choking off a laugh. “Whatever you say, boss.”

“Oh, some alone time. Hey, Brian, I don’t suppose you’d like to test-drive Amara’s couch?”

Amara’s eyes were huge. She opened her mouth, but whatever she was going to say, Parker was in no mood to hear. He needed her, needed to finish what had begun a few days before.

He needed to complete the ritual and mark her as his sotiei.

Parker whirled Amara toward the jeep. “Let’s go.”

Amara didn’t argue when Parker chose to drive. She stared out the window, her arms across her chest. She trembled, but he knew it wasn’t from fear. It was rage that made her shiver, anger that had her fingers dancing up and down her arms.

He could work with that. He’d give her an outlet for her rage and grief. He could take whatever she could dish out.

The only thing he wouldn’t be able to take was her leaving him, and he knew of a way to keep that from ever happening.

Parker drove down a side street. He couldn’t risk going toward the woods, couldn’t allow them to be that vulnerable to Terri’s machinations. He turned into a deserted parking lot. The grocery store was closed for the night, the lights dimmed. Theirs was the sole car in the lot. He was banking on the cops being at the town hall dealing with Terri’s attack. He had no desire to show law enforcement a full moon.

And it had the advantage of being much closer to the town hall than Amara’s house.

“Parker?” Amara glared over at him. “Why are we here?”

He threw the jeep into park and turned off the ignition. “I need you.”

Her eyes widened. “Here?”

He grabbed the ends of his shirt and pulled, ripping the buttons. “Here.” He took her hard nipple between his teeth and bit down gently. “Unless you have other plans.”

She twisted in the seat and thrust her breasts toward him. “Suck on them.”

Oh, it was going to be that way, was it? Parker kept his smile to himself and sucked, giving her what she wanted. She needs this as much as I do.

When she started to writhe under his mouth, he followed her until he was twisted over the gearshift, her back pressed against the jeep door, her hands buried in his hair.

This isn’t going to work. She was panting, her hips undulating, and he needed her so badly he felt like screaming. He glanced toward the hood. I wonder…

Parker grabbed Amara around the waist with one arm and held tight. With the other, he opened the door, ignoring her startled squawk when she almost fell out. Laughing, he flew them out.

“Parker?”

Amara’s voice was shaking. To soothe her, he took her nipple back into his mouth, sucking her into him. She gasped, her head falling back, her eyes closed. She wrapped her legs around his waist, driving her wet pussy up against his jean-clad erection.

Much better. Parker moved until Amara’s back was against the warm hood, his shirt protecting her from the heated metal. Now he could turn his whole attention to making Amara scream. He landed on his feet and dragged her down so that her pussy was on the edge. “Beautiful girl.” He bent over and took a taste of his Amara from her wet hole to her clit. This time he wanted her hands to touch, to play. Wanted her to caress his skin, torture her nipples until they were red and puffy. So he didn’t order her to leave them put. “Play with yourself, my sweet. Show me what you like.”

Her eyes were passion-glazed. She began to stroke her breasts, fondling the mounds, cupping them, barely touching anywhere near her nipples.

He responded by keeping his touches to her pussy languid, sweet, playing with her with fingers and lips and tongue until her movements became more rapid. He did love the taste of his sweet girl, could eat her all day and never tire of the flavor. He stroked her thighs, played with the sensitive spots behind her knees, lifted one leg up so he could lick a long line from ankle to knee.

Her fingers were on her nipples, plucking at the hard nubs. Parker watched, fascinated, as his sotiei brought herself to the close to the brink with those touches alone. He stood and put her feet against his chest to hold her steady, freeing his hands to touch where he would without fear she’d fall. He took out his aching erection and stroked himself. Her gaze was on him, on what he was doing to his cock, and the sight merely heightened his pleasure. He inserted a finger into her and fucked her slowly with it. He loved the way she tightened around him. She gasped, squeezing her eyes shut as the first orgasm rolled through her, making her tremble under his touch.

Her smile was full of feral heat as she used her legs to push him away. She stood, and the shirt puddled at her feet, the moonlight bathing her curves in shadows and light. Parker was entranced. The hand on his cock stilled.

She crooked her finger, and Parker went willingly. She took him by the cock and led him behind the jeep, her ass swaying enticingly.

Parker was going to fuck that ass if it was the last thing he did. The thought of her squeezing him like a vise between those cheeks almost had him coming in her hand.

She opened the trunk and bent over, placing her hands inside and wiggled her butt. “Well?”

Parker growled. He couldn’t help it. His mate was uninjured, she’d come and her scent teased him. Her ass was pale against the dark interior, and she’d invited the vampire inside.

And Parker was hungry.

There was nothing left of the gentle, languid lover when he shoved inside her pussy. He was aching and hard and desperate to come, to feed on her warmth. He wrapped his hand around her hair and yanked, the beast close to the surface. He wanted her head back, her neck bared to his bite, his hunger. Amara groaned, tilting her head with his demands, arching her back. Her pussy clamped around him. Parker draped himself across his sotiei, his hand next to hers, his cock buried to the root. Her moisture dripped onto his balls. “I hunger, sweet.”

Her lips curled. “Then feed.”

He struck, digging his fangs into her throat. Liquid heaven poured down his throat. He sucked at the bite, drinking her in, taking her essence into him, making her a part of him.

Amara moaned. Her legs trembled. He began to fuck her hard and fast, giving her the other side of the man she’d taken as a mate, the beast within. Amara nodded her approval as best she could.

“More, Parker. Give me more.”

Parker lost it. She wanted more?

Then his mate would have it.

He reached down until his hand brushed the top of her ass. He wouldn’t go there yet. Not without lube. The beast would never allow him to hurt her, but he could give her a taste of things to come. He pressed his thumb to her anus, let her feel the pressure. Someday he’d put a plug there and fuck her with it in. Or he’d slip a dildo into her pussy and fuck her ass. He’d fill her up until she couldn’t think, could do nothing but feel.

Amara shoved back onto his thumb, taking the tip inside. Parker froze. He licked the wounds on her neck closed. “No lube.”

She growled. His fist was clenched in her hair, his dick was pounding so hard into her pussy she’d be sore for days and she freaking growled at him. “Get some.”

Parker’s eyes widened. He seriously considered breaking into the supermarket. His mate demanded, and he wanted to provide.

“Parker.” She thrust back until his thumb was buried to the first knuckle, wincing as it breached her.

Parker flew. Who cared if he got arrested for breaking and entering? It was but a moment to fly to the roof and find a way in. There had to be a way onto the roof from the inside for inspections, and Parker found it—a simple trapdoor. He opened the lock with a thought and raced inside.

Once in the main part of the store, he found the lube, grabbed it, dropped a twenty on the floor and rushed back out. He’d never flown so fast in his life.

Amara was sitting on the edge of the open hatch, her legs crossed, her eyes dancing. He held up the tube. “Lube.”

Amara turned and bent over once more. Her head tilted to the side, giving him access to her neck. Her tousled red curls looked like blood against her pale skin. “Good.”

He shuddered. He was going to come before he ever got inside her. He just knew it.

“Have you ever done this before?”

She grinned, and whoever had put that satisfied look on her face needed to die. “Once or twice.” She shook her ass at him. “C’mon, Parker. I need.” Her expression turned fierce. “You do too. I know what’s coming next. You’ll mark me for the third time, and I’ll be yours forever.”

Parker ripped the tube open, splattering lube all over the place. He managed to get enough in his hand to get his cock good and slick. He scooped more out of the shattered packaging and rubbed it across her rosette. With great care, he pressed inside her, stretching her with his finger.

Amara moaned and pushed back, taking the entire finger. The knowledge that she was no stranger to ass play ripped through him. Part of him was glad. He was less likely to hurt her, but the part of him that knew Amara was his was both enraged and devastated.

He inserted a second finger, scissoring them, stretching her for his cock, fucking her with them until her knees trembled once more. He wouldn’t bite her again until he was fully seated between those tempting, lush globes.

“Now, Parker.”

“I won’t hurt you.” He started to slide a third finger into her.

She looked at him through the fall of her hair. “You won’t. Now fuck me.”

He was stunned his eyes didn’t cross. He took his fingers from her and grabbed her hips. “Ready for me?”

“Mm-hmm.”

He put the wet tip of his cock against her ass and pressed inside. He might not be her first, but he would damn well be her last. He was determined to be her best.

He entered her slowly, let her adjust to his presence. When she growled again, he moved, careful to keep his movements easy and slow. Before long, she was bucking back against him, forcing him to increase his speed. “Parker. Fuck me. Fuck me hard.” She looked at him with hot, desperate eyes. “Make me forget.”

He was lost. He would give her almost anything she wished. His eyes flamed as he wrapped his hand in her hair, tugged her head to the side. He sank his fangs into her neck and fucked her ass the way she’d begged him to, the way he’d fucked her pussy, in long, hard strokes that filled the jeep with the sound of flesh meeting flesh. She screamed her approval, turned wild in his embrace. He drank from his sotiei and loved on her.

Loved her. She was so strong, so beautiful yet so vulnerable. How could he not? She was everything he’d ever wished for and more, and Parker would spend the rest of his life making sure she never felt alone again.

Parker used his feet to force her legs closed. He wanted her as tight as he could get her, for both their sakes. He began ruthlessly stroking her clit. He needed her to come, needed to shoot inside her. He needed to taste her pleasure in her blood. He needed to mark her for the third time, so no one could ever mistake that she belonged to him.

Amara’s whole body shook. Her mouth opened in a soundless scream, her blood bubbling with the taste of joy, her ass clenching around him so tightly he couldn’t move.

The feel of her milking his cock with her ass was so intense he saw stars. He came with a muffled groan, and it was more than he’d ever imagined, better than anything he’d ever had.

Parker pulled his fangs from Amara’s neck and licked the wounds closed. He was grateful he was mostly dead. Amara’s orgasm had damn near killed him again. He pressed a soft kiss to the spot he’d come to think of his, where the marks of his teeth were already fading away.

“We are so doing that again,” Amara panted.

Parker smiled and shifted. A gasp escaped Amara’s lips as he moved his cock inside her tight ass. “It would be my pleasure.”

Again and again and again. Hell, if he had his say, he’d stay right where he was for the rest of his unlife, buried to the hilt in his sotiei. He couldn’t think of a better way to spend eternity.

“Parker?”

“Hmm?” He nibbled another set of kisses down her neck.

“I can’t feel my fingers.”

Her hands were pressed so hard against the inside of the trunk that her fingers had turned white. “Damn. And I was so comfortable too.” She giggled as he slid from her body and helped her stand on wobbly legs. His weren’t any stronger, but there was no way he would let her see that. “Come on, sweet. Let’s go home.”

Amara allowed him to help her into the jeep. Parker took off, content with the world, smiling wickedly as he thought of the tattered shirt they’d left behind.

Amara woke to a cool, strong arm draped across her stomach. Her ass was pressed up to Parker’s crotch, but unlike most men, her lover didn’t have morning wood. She glanced at the window. Make that early-afternoon wood. Parker was still, the light taking its toll on his vampiric body. Well. At least I bagged a man who doesn’t snore. Amara slipped out from under him and headed for the bathroom. He might not need to use the facilities, but she sure as hell did. She began her morning routine, yawning her way through until she started brushing her teeth.

Amara frowned. She leaned in closer, jumping slightly when the edge of the toothbrush in her mouth hit the mirror. What the fuck?

The three bite marks weren’t what bothered her. No, she’d known Parker was going to mark her, especially after declaring she was his blood wife. Vampires were extremely territorial and protective. She would have been surprised if Parker hadn’t marked her in some way.

No, what bothered her was the pale patch of yellowish-green below the marks. Something felt off about it. It wasn’t a bruise. The area wasn’t tender, but it was warm to the touch. Come to think of it, she felt more tired than normal. She’d put that down to the incredible, rocking sex, but maybe she was coming down with something.

What kinds of diseases did dryads get anyway? Amara had been immune to most of the things that plagued the mostly human youths she’d grown up with. Colds didn’t affect her. Measles, mumps and chicken pox were something to watch, not catch. And the flu couldn’t get a foothold in her lungs.

Could she get Dutch elm disease? She fingered the oddly colored spots. Oh hell. It couldn’t be maple wilt, could it? The fungus had been known to fell mature trees.

She shook her head. She couldn’t get a tree disease. That would be silly.

The greenish-yellow mark mocked her.

Could she?

Perhaps she should talk to Ash, Mina or Greer. They might know what it was. She’d never had the opportunity to discuss things like this with her kind before. She wondered if now that the rest of the town knew what she truly was, their attitude would change. And if it did, would it be for better or worse?

She finished brushing her teeth and hopped in the shower, washing the dirt and dust of the day before off her. Amara washed out her curls, grimacing at the gray, dingy water that flowed down the drain. She should have asked Parker to help her wash off. The man would probably have jumped at the chance to play with her while she was sleepy, naked and wet. Now, instead of wet, horny vampire, there was a load of skanky laundry in her future. She couldn’t imagine sleeping on those dirty sheets again. Damn it.

Amara paused, the loofah dripping soap bubbles down her stomach. Come to think of it, why hadn’t she asked Parker to take a shower with her? Making slow, easy love with Parker while he was naked and wet and covered in bubbles? She shivered. Note to self: add that to my to-do list!

She finished her shower quickly. Her stomach was growling. She could almost taste the muesli she had every morning. Perhaps she’d add some berries to it this morning to sweeten it. She stepped out of the shower and reached for her towel.

“Amara.”

Amara shrieked. Ash stood there, his gaze intent on her neck. “We need to talk.”

“You couldn’t wait until I drove out to the forest?” Amara wrapped the towel around herself, her eyes darting to the motionless vampire on the bed behind Ash. He hadn’t moved, but the faintest hint of red could be seen as his eyelids lifted a fraction. If she didn’t calm herself, Ash would find himself facing her mate’s beast without Parker there to control it. She took a deep breath and did her best to save all their lives. “Ash? Could you wait for me in the living room?” Her voice was calm, but her gaze remained on Parker. She hoped Ash would take the hint and skedaddle before Parker decided on dryad for breakfast.

She gulped, a sudden bout of nausea rushing through her, there and gone again so fast it barely registered.

Ash flinched. “Damn. I forgot about that.” He gestured toward Parker. “I’ll be waiting.” Ash sauntered out of the bathroom on silent feet, hopefully unaware of the gleaming red eyes that tracked his every movement. Only when Ash was out of the bedroom did the vampire settle back down. Amara waited to make sure the beast had gone back to sleep before she dressed and left the room.

Ash was waiting. He was poking through her kitchen. He had her teapot in his hand, smiling at the dancing mice painted on the side.

“What’s up?”

He put the teapot back on the stove, any hint of a smile disappearing. “You’ve been infected with something.”

Amara touched her neck. “How?”

“How did you get infected, or how do I know?”

“Both, I think.”

Ash grinned, and Amara was afraid again; he looked every inch like Oak’s defender. “The entire forest senses you, Amara.” Ash stepped forward and circled her, predator to her prey. The only thing preventing her from reacting was the knowledge Parker would wake up and rip Ash’s arms off if she so much as flinched. “The forest knows when its hamadryad is ill. And you are definitely not well.”

Amara swayed, her vision blurring. He was right. Something was seriously wrong.

“Whoa. And we need to take care of this right now.” His fingers approached her neck, but he didn’t touch. “Do you know how you got infected?”

Amara fingered the mark; the warmth there was somehow repulsive. That clever, evil bitch. “The pollen.”

Ash snapped his fingers. “Of course. Your vampire fed from you last night?”

“Before I bathed. His fangs must have pushed some of the pollen beneath my skin.”

Ash stepped back. The feeling that she was being hunted faded away. “We need to speak to Mina about this.”

“Didn’t Mina send you?”

“No. I knew before she did.”

Huh. That was odd. “Are the three of you all right?” They’d breathed in the pollen. “As far as I know, we are. It’s possible that breathing in the pollen wasn’t enough, since blood is mixed in so deeply with this curse.”

“Or it was specifically targeted toward me.” The huge amounts of pollen the weeds had released might have been a fail-safe, ensuring Amara came in contact with it no matter what.

“Is that possible?”

“Are you feeling any effects or noticing any bruising? Is the forest reacting to you differently today?”

Ash shook his head. “No. I think we need a witch for this.” Once again his fingers danced close to her skin, but he didn’t touch. She couldn’t blame him. If this pollen infected Ash, it could destroy a fourth of the forest before the dryads could stop it.

Brian stumbled down the stairs and came to a halt at the sight of Ash in the living room. “Oh. Good afternoon, Mr. Ward.”

“Good afternoon, Brian. Please, call me Ash.” Ash shook hands with Brian. “Amara’s sick. I need to get her to Mina.”

“Brian, can you think of any witches in town who you trust one hundred percent?”

Brian frowned. “Not Kate.”

No. Not Kate. Never Kate. The bitch had been screeching at Dragos about her stupid skirt and her broken heel, completely ignoring the damage to the town hall and the plants around it. Hell, she’d barely touched on the fact that Parker had a witch after him. She was pretty sure Kate would love to have Parker and Greg shunned because she’d been embarrassed. Goddess, she hated that bitch. “What about Mel?”

Brian nodded. “She’s trustworthy. And Kate hates her.”

“Bonus! Mel it is. Do me a favor and call her. Tell her to meet us at the visitors’ center outside the park, okay?”

“No problem. If I can’t get ahold of her, I’ll call Selena.” Brian poured himself a bowl of cereal, but his attention was centered on Ash. “Do I need to wake Parker?”

“Can you wake Parker?” Amara had thought once daylight hit, Parker was down for the count.

“It’s something a Renfield can do, but only in emergencies and only if he doesn’t mind being a midday munchie, but yes, I could.”

“No. That would only do both you and Parker more harm than good. Besides, we can handle this.” Amara picked up her jacket and slid her feet into her boots. “Let Parker know where we are and tell him it looks like I picked up a problem from last night.”

Brian’s eyes widened. “You’re pregnant?”

Ash froze. He looked horror-struck.

Amara giggled. “No, silly. Aren’t vampires sterile?”

“Most, yes, but not all. And Parker’s unique. Who knows what he’s capable of?”

Amara’s face flared bright red. She’d been with Parker without a condom because vampires couldn’t impregnate her or give her any diseases. Her mind reeled at the thought of a dryad/vampire hybrid child.

Her child. She pressed her hand against her flat stomach and gulped as another bout of nausea threatened to send her worshipping at the porcelain god. “Tell me about it later, okay?” She had to deal with one problem at a time or she’d become overwhelmed, forced to commune with her tree whether she liked it or not. Hell, she was already beginning to crave her tree’s touch, but with the disease infecting her, she didn’t dare.

“Done. I’ll let Parker know if you’re not back by sunset.” Brian took hold of her arm, a worried frown creasing his forehead. “Be back by sunset, Amara.”

She would do her best, but she wasn’t making any promises. She went to help Ash load his bicycle into the back of her jeep, but it was already there. Amara didn’t want to know how Ash had gotten into her car and put the bike there without the keys. “You are one scary-ass dude.” She started the car and pulled out of the driveway.

“Thank you.”

Amara was glad he’d taken it for the compliment it was. “So. You’re positive everyone else is all right?” She had visions of zombie dryads shuffling through town, looking for… What? She pictured shambling dryads, their arms outstretched, groaning, Pooootaaatooooeeeesss…

“Everyone is fine, including the wolf pack. The forest released them this morning.” Something in the way he said it told her the forest had been less than kind in letting them go. She wondered if she’d be getting angry phone calls from the mates of bruised and battered wolves. “Are you?”

“What?”

“Pregnant?”

Amara almost swerved off the road. “No!” Not as far as she knew, anyway.

“Because that could complicate things.”

“Really? You think?” She shot him a disbelieving look.

He wasn’t smiling. “Your infection and cure could harm the child.”

The way he was staring at her freaked her out. “What?”

“It could turn the child into a vampiric weed.” Amara snarled, but Ash held his hand up, silencing her. “Think about it. A vampiric dryad child infected with the pollen of a twisted weed like Terri. What would the child become?”

She thought of all the so-called carnivorous plants in the world. “A walking Venus flytrap?”

Ash shook his head. “That’s the best-case scenario, Amara. Think about it.”

Her palm hovered over her stomach. What would she do if she was carrying Parker’s child and Terri had damaged it somehow? That volcano in her belly came damn close to erupting.

What if?

She pulled up to the visitors’ center and let herself out silently. Selena Giannone was waiting for her.

Ash stopped dead in his tracks. His breath hissed in. If Amara didn’t know better, she’d swear his knees quaked.

“Hi, Selena. Do you know Ash?”

Selena shook her head and stared at Ash, her expression wary. She appeared to be one step away from running from him, and Selena never ran, even when she should.

What the hell?

She hid her smirk. Interesting. Take that, Dragos. “This is Selena Giannone, our witchdoctor. Selena, this is Ashton Ward, one of our ruling dryads.”

When Ash took Selena’s hand, sparks flew. Literally.

“Holy crap.” Amara took a step back, brushing at a few that had lit on her clothes. “What was that?”

Selena, her mouth open, kicked Ash right in the shin. “What the fuck have you done?”

Ash bent to rub his abused leg. “Me? What the fuck did you do? You’re the witch, not me!”

“Keep your hands to yourself, or I swear to God I will turn you into a houseplant.” Selena took another step back, whether from Ash’s sudden anger or from the desire to remain untouched, Amara wasn’t sure. She was betting on the second. Selena had never backed down from Dragos at his worst. She doubted Selena even knew what she was facing this time, but she’d never back down from anything.

Just this once she should.

Ash’s expression smoothed to its usual calm appearance. Amara wasn’t fooled for a moment. “Amara needs assistance—magical assistance.” He closed his eyes and glided toward the forest. “Mina is calling.” He opened them and gestured toward the women. “Follow me.”

Amara shrugged. “Come on, people. Let’s get this over with.”

Selena sighed and stalked after them, her boot heels sinking into the soft earth. “No one mentioned a nature hike, damn it.” Selena glared at the trees. “Where’d Sparky go?”

Amara choked out a laugh. “Sparky?”

Selena shrugged. She really didn’t give a fuck what anyone thought of her. It was part of her charm, but she was too earthy for most people to handle. “Who called you? Brian?” Not that Amara minded. If she was pregnant, Selena was the best person to check her and the babe out.

“Yup. He was worried you’d need, and I quote, the big guns. No offense to Mel.” Selena slapped a mosquito off her neck. “Fucker.”

Amara laughed. “Don’t you mean sucker?”

“Hell, I didn’t ask for either, so it can keep its pointy little proboscis to itself.”

Amara studied Ash’s back, not surprised he’d returned without a sound. Her lips curled up in a smile.

I wonder if she’s earthy enough for a dryad?

“Parker’s on the move.”

Amara and Selena jumped, earning a sharp look from Ash. “Holy fuck. Greg?” Was Selena using her powers to make him heard again? She shared a look with Selena, who shrugged.

“Don’t look at me. I’m not doing it.”

“Look, it’s taking a lot of juice to make myself heard, so listen up. Don’t ask me what’s going on, but Parker’s on the move. He’s sticking to the shadows as much as possible so he doesn’t become a crispy critter, but he’s smoking. From what I can tell, he’s headed this way. And Amara? The beast is in full control.”

Amara stared at Ash and knew what had set her mate off. The fact that she’d been naked in front of the male dryad, coupled with the fact that she’d left with him wouldn’t have sat well with the beast. “Oh shit.”

“What?” Ash was mystified. “Why did we stop?” Apparently Ash couldn’t hear Greg. That was interesting. Why could she and Selena hear him, but Ash couldn’t?

“Parker is up and headed this way, and his beast is in control, not him.” Amara waved to Ash. “You need to leave. If you’re here, he’ll attack without hesitation.” And no amount of chanting would stop him this time. She didn’t know which of them would win, but she couldn’t lose Parker, and she couldn’t leave Maggie’s Grove if he killed Ash. Her roots were too deeply settled to move somewhere else. It would kill her.

And that would kill Parker.

Ash bowed his head and slipped away, there and gone in an instant.

“Neat trick.” Selena scanned the skies, her markings glowing, her eyes turning white. “Parker’s almost here.”

Amara was worried for her safety. Neither of them knew the casuta, and without it, she might not be able to keep him from attacking. “You should go.”

Selena’s markings flared. “No. I can help you calm him. I’m not a threat to you or your mating, and his beast will know that.” She blew her bangs out of her eyes. “Oh well. Let me take a look at that.” Selena brushed her fingers over the mark on Amara’s neck. “Oh yeah. You’ve got something in there all right. Let’s see if I can get it out.” Selena closed her eyes and hummed, moving her fingertip in a complicated pattern on Amara’s neck.

The mark stirred under Selena’s touch, writhing with the witchdoctor’s movements. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Parker land. He was snarling, his gaze riveted to what Selena was doing. There was comprehension in those reddened eyes. The beast inside Parker understood Selena was there to help.

The story might have been different if Ash had stuck around.

Parker’s tension eased, the snarl disappearing into weariness. Seeing him calm down, she relaxed and allowed the witchdoctor to work her magic.

Parker settled on the forest floor, the burns on his skin blistered, dripping blood onto dry leaves where branches had cut him. He psychically lifted a mound of dirt out of the ground, disturbing a chipmunk family that squealed in terror and chattered angrily at having their den disturbed.

Parker didn’t seem to notice. He lay down and curled up in the hole he’d crafted. With a wave of his hand, the dirt he’d set aside settled over him, sheltering him from the rays of the sun.

Her roots ran into the earth, but to be completely buried by it? Amara shuddered.

“Yeah. I know. I prefer a mattress myself, but to each his own.” She blew Selena a raspberry, but the witchdoctor only smiled serenely. “Hold still. I haven’t gotten it all out yet.”

Amara obeyed. What the hell else was she supposed to do? Curl up in the dirt with her mate?

“There. All done.” Selena smiled, her eyes returning to normal, the markings fading from her skin.

“Thank you, Selena.”

“Don’t worry. You’ll be fine. I got all of it out and gave you a spiritual inoculation against future infections. And for the record, you’re not pregnant.”

Amara sagged in relief.

“Yet.”

She groaned.

Selena patted her shoulder. “Honey? Prophylactics are your friend.” She looked around, a frown darkening her face. “Where the hell did I park my car?”

Amara pointed toward the parking lot. “And, Selena?”

Selena turned back. “Hmm?”

“Be nice to Ash.”

“Why?”

“Because he rules the forest you’re standing in, dummy.”

Selena made a rude sound. “Oh please. He ain’t the boss of me.”

The leaves overhead rustled. Amara coughed.

Selena waved, her expression nonchalant. “Bye, Amara.”

But for all her brave words, the witchdoctor sure hauled ass out of the forest, muttering the entire way.

Amara pulled out her cell phone and dialed the learning center. “Rock?”

“You’re taking a sick day.”

Amara blinked. “I am?”

“Yup. Brian called me, let me know what was going on. Is it taken care of?”

“Yeah. I feel fine. Listen, I—”

“No. Sick day.”

“I’m already—”

“Sick. Day.”

“Call Selena. She’ll tell you I’m fine.”

He sighed. “Amara. You’ve taken exactly three days off since you started working for me, and that was only because Glinda passed away. And you know I don’t count tree time as sick time. It’s written into your contract. Take a sick day. Hell, take a sick week. Enjoy your mate. I’ve got some things to work out on my end, but I think this will wind up being a good thing for everyone.”

Amara’s gut clenched. “You’re firing me?”

“What?” Rock sounded completely stunned. “Hell no. I’d fire myself first.” Amara began breathing again. “Now that you’re mated to Parker, there are some things that might get adjusted, that’s all. For the love of all that is holy, take some time off. Maybe find the bitch who’s after him and take her out while you’re at it.”

She headed toward the car park. There wasn’t much she could do for Parker while he was buried, but she gave a mental command to the forest to watch over him. The forest would alert her if anyone or anything disturbed him before his rest was over. “Yeah. Having some time off might not be a bad idea, but, Rock? I don’t want to take more than five days.”

Rock sighed. “Stubborn.”

“As a tree root.” She hopped in her jeep and started it, suddenly starving. She’d completely forgotten breakfast, and waffles sounded like a great idea. It wasn’t muesli, but a change was nice once in a while. Besides, heading to the local diner would allow her to gauge the townspeople’s reactions to her after the battle with the wicked witch.

“Fine. Do me a favor? Be careful, okay? I’d hate to lose my best friend to a psycho bitch.”

Amara grinned. “Will do. Bye, Rock.”

“Later.”

She dropped the cell phone on the passenger seat and headed off to find some syrupy goodness. She pulled up outside the diner just after three in the afternoon and was surprised to find so many bicycles parked out front. “What the hell?” Was school out already?

She entered the diner, and all conversation stopped.

Oh hell. It looked like every dryad in Maggie’s Grove was sitting in Harry’s, scarfing down pancakes, salads and veggie burgers galore. They stared at her, their faces slack, their eyes wide. Shit. She’d forgotten practically everyone ate at Harry’s, whether they lived in town or on the mountain. She pointed toward the door with her thumb and began shuffling away. She’d rather eat anywhere else. Like Siberia. “I’ll go now. It’s okay. Don’t get up.”

As one, the dryads stood and began walking toward her.

“Hell.” Amara opened the door and ran for her jeep, hoping the Children of the Corn had taken the hint. The first touch to her shoulder told her they hadn’t. She whirled around, ready to defend herself.

Soft butterfly touches on her hands, her hair, her arms and her legs confused her. Each dryad took a turn stepping forward and touching some piece of her skin that was exposed by her uniform.

Each one closed his or her eyes in grief afterward.

This was the first time any of them had come close enough to touch her. She had no idea what they were feeling or sensing, but from the way some of them had begun weeping, it couldn’t be good. She wanted to shrink, disappear until she wasn’t faced with their hatred anymore. This was ten times worse than someone crossing the street. “Please. Leave me alone.”

The dryads stared, most of them with tears in their eyes. Not one moved.

Amara swallowed. They’d surrounded her jeep. She couldn’t leave without possibly hurting one of them. She closed her eyes and prepared herself for the coming blows, physical and spiritual. “Why?”

Of all the people who’d chosen to attack her, the dryads were the only ones who were absolutely safe from retaliation. It went against all of her instincts to protect and defend, and now she finally understood why. As a hamadryad, it was her job to keep them safe.

The bastards.

“We’re sorry.”

That was the last thing she’d expected them to say. Amara opened her eyes. Around her, the dryads sat, some on the ground, some on her jeep, keeping her penned in with nothing more than their bodies. “What?”

The one who seemed to be their spokeswoman stood. Amara recognized her as one of the dryads who used to cross the street when she approached. That shunning had hurt more than any of them would ever know. “We’re sorry.”

“Glinda loved you, but she didn’t know you,” another one, this one male, said.

A third piped up. “And because of that, neither did we.”

“We followed the lead of Oak, Ash, Birch and Yew. They avoided you, so we did too.”

“But we didn’t understand why they did.”

“We thought they avoided you because you were different, not because Glinda asked them to.”

“We knew you were different. We sensed your pain, but we couldn’t make ourselves help you.”

“We were cruel to you.”

“We’re sorry, Amara.”

“So sorry.”

“So sorry.”

“We’re going to help you,” the spokeswoman said firmly. Amara, shocked, stood speechless, waiting for the other shoe to drop. “We’re going to help find the one who is after your heart. When we find her, you’ll know.”

Amara didn’t respond. She couldn’t. She was light-headed, afraid she might pass out.

They’d accepted her. They’d apologized to her.

She looked up.

Nope. Sky’s still there.

When she faced them again, some looked heartbroken. Others were stoic; still others were quietly crying. She could feel their pain, their remorse. Their heartache. It twisted inside her, made her want to howl, to punish whoever had caused them this much grief.

But how do you punish love? Glinda had never intended to hurt any of them, but she had, and now they all had to live with the memories.

The spokeswoman looked around and sighed. “We’ll leave you to your breakfast.” The crowd walked toward their bikes.

“Wait.” Someone had to take the first step in healing the breach love had accidentally caused. If they could come to her, apologize to her, then she could do her part to mend the rift. “Have breakfast with me.”

They sagged in relief, sighing and smiling and patting her skin once more. “Yes, please.”

“Thank you.”

“We’d like that.”

The chattering crowd surrounded her, suddenly eager for waffles and eggs. Amara stuck close to the spokeswoman as they reentered the diner. “How did you know I was coming here?”

The woman smiled. “You’re our hamadryad. We always know where you are, but we didn’t understand why until Oak explained it to us.”

She sat in the booth with a thump. They always knew where she was? “Do you always know what I’m doing?” That had the potential to be hideously embarrassing, didn’t it?

Blushes and giggles. “No, but a lot of the time we can guess.” One of them actually batted his lashes at her.

Amara didn’t know if dryads could sink through linoleum, but she was determined to find out.

Chapter Nine

Parker sat up and spit dirt out of his mouth. “Well. Isn’t this pleasant?” He hadn’t spent a night in the earth since…well, since he’d dug his way out of the stuff when he’d felt someone walking over his grave. He stood and brushed off. “Greg?”

“Here.”

He picked an earthworm out of his pocket and dropped it back into the hole he’d slept in. “Why aren’t I home in my nice, warm wife?”

“Because your beast is a jealous, macho asshole.”

He ran his fingers through his hair, shaking out yet more dirt. “And?”

“Ash visited this morning.”

“So?”

“Amara was naked.”

Parker winced. “Is he alive?”

“Oh yeah. She got him out of the bedroom and thought you’d gone back to sleep. When she left with him, your beast decided someone was trying to steal your mate. I got to them before you did and warned Amara. She got Ash to do a disappearing act, you dug your bed and lay in it, and Amara went out for breakfast with every dryad in the tri-state area.”

“Oh.” He stared at a chipmunk chattering at him in a shrill voice and wondered what he’d done to piss it off. “That explains a lot.”

“The good news is Selena said she got the infection out of Amara and that she should be fine.”

“Infection? What the hell happened while I was sleeping?” He tried to shoo the chipmunk way, but the little rodent wasn’t paying him any attention.

“Some sort of pollen got pushed under her skin when you fed. Selena said it was pretty bad, but she fixed it and gave her an inoculation of some kind. I didn’t understand what she meant, but I don’t understand half of what she says. For a witch, her powers are pretty strange.”

“How so?”

“She can do things most of us can’t, but can’t seem to do things a lot of us can. Remember how I said witches are connected to the earth? It’s like Selena’s connected to the spirit world instead. It’s freaky.”

Parker didn’t give a crap what world Selena was anchored in. “Amara’s all right?”

“Yup. Clean bill of health.”

“That’s good to know.” Parker pulled off his shoe and dumped dirt on the rodent’s head. That should show you who’s boss around here.

“She also said Amara isn’t pregnant yet.”

Parker paused in the act of putting his shoe back on. “Pregnant?” He howled in pain as the rat masquerading as a cute forest creature took a bite out of his ankle before scampering away. He landed on his ass right back in the hole he’d dug himself. “Pregnant?” He could feel his voice rising each time he said it.

“I told you to make little vamplings, didn’t I?”

“I thought you were joking!” He shoved his foot into the shoe, ignoring whatever it was that wiggled against his big toe. The fucker would be smooshed soon enough. He had more important things to worry about, like pregnant wives and impossible dreams. “I’m a vampire. I can’t impregnate anyone!”

“According to Selena you can. She said she’s not sure what all you’re capable of, since you’re the only vampire of your kind, but she suggested you consider wearing a raincoat on your little man from now on.”

“You’re joking.”

“Nope. Selena kind of confirmed you could become a papa.”

He rolled his eyes and got back on his feet. “Wonderful.” He wondered how Amara had taken the news. He figured if she didn’t fling something at his head when he saw her next, she’d taken it well. “I need to get back and check on Amara.”

“Uh, Parker?”

“Hmm?”

“Behind you.”

Parker turned. Two glowing green eyes stared at him from between two bushes. Slime slithered across his senses, leaving a wet, icky trail behind. It was akin to sticking his hand into a jar of fresh snot, and he didn’t like it, or the woman attached to the sensation, one bit. “Hello, Terri.”

The eyes blinked. “Parker.”

That voice sent a shiver down his spine. Where once his urge to flee had overwhelmed him, now all he wanted was the witch’s neck between his hands, her blood dripping on the ground. The only problem with that was he didn’t think Mina, Ash and Greer would appreciate having toxic waste dumped in their forest. “Long time no see.” He smiled and prayed she’d view it as an invitation. He needed to grab her, take her out before she hurt anyone else. “Come on out, pretty. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“You’ve been a bad boy, Parker.”

Parker flexed his fingers. His claws slipped free, ready to shred the flesh from his enemy’s bones. She’d harmed his sotiei, infected her with something. For that alone she would suffer. “Have I now?” He allowed his accent to thicken, remembering how she loved it when he whispered naughty things in her ear. He’d use that against her, lure his prey out and pounce.

“You slept with that woman.” Terri’s voice was full of righteous anger and insane pain. “How could you do that to me?”

Easily. Amara was ten times the woman Terri was, even when she’d been human. “A man has needs, Terri.”

That turned out to be the wrong thing to say. An inhuman shriek of rage drove the birds from the trees. “You are mine!”

Parker grinned. “Then take me.”

“Parker, no!”

He ignored Greg’s shout, intent on taking out the witch who’d made his unlife miserable. Tenacious vines bound his body so quickly he had no time to react. He was cocooned, only his eyes left free of the wrappings.

Not quite what he’d planned on, but he could work with it. She was up to something, so he’d allow her to hold him until he found out what it was. He felt none of the magic that had kept him in the iron cage all those years ago. Misting through the vines should be no problem.

Now that he wasn’t running away from her in terror, he got his first good look at her, and was horrified by what he saw.

She’d changed drastically since New York. She no longer looked human. Still curvaceous, she walked in the form of a woman, but where a human’s skin was rich with the flush of red blood, Terri’s skin had a sickly greenish cast. Her hair was the dry, pale brown of dead leaves. Her eyes glowed brightly enough for others to see by. Weeds sprouted from random spots on her body. A dandelion bloomed above her navel; crabgrass had replaced the hair of her mound. She smelled of rancid vegetation, like a compost heap that had sat too long in the sun, too rotten to use. “Did you think I would let you hurt me?”

Parker tried to shrug, but he couldn’t move. He couldn’t speak, gagged by the greenery.

One cracked green hand reached out, covered in mold. “I missed you, Parker.” Despite his struggles to move away she stroked his nose. “I’ll make you a deal. You leave with me. We become what we were always meant to be—husband and wife. Vampire and blood donor. And I will allow the town of Maggie’s Grove to live.” She gestured, and the gag was removed.

“You can’t destroy an entire town, Terri.”

She smiled. “It’s already begun.”

“You’re bluffing.”

“I’m sorry, my love. I didn’t want to, you know, but you forced my hand. You’ve turned down every invitation I’ve given you since you got here.” She ran her fingers across his lips. He had to resist the urge to spit her taste back in her face. “If you don’t leave with me, every single plant in Maggie’s Grove will rise up and tear it apart from the inside out.” She tilted her head. “I wonder what my thorns would do to the tender flesh of an infant?”

He gritted his teeth. “You’ll have to show me.”

“Oh, Parker.” She grinned, her yellowed teeth rimmed with algae. He tried not to gag at the overwhelming stench that poured from between her lips. “Very well. This won’t take long.” The greenery covered him once more, this time obscuring his eyes as well. He had no idea what was going on, but he was transported more swiftly than he’d thought she was capable of.

She’d grown stronger since the last time he’d seen her, and that terrified him.

He bided his time. She had to be bluffing. Even Terri wasn’t crazy enough to attack an entire town filled with supernaturals and their mates. They’d hunt her down with their last breaths and make her pay for what she’d done to their lovers, their families. She wouldn’t know a second’s peace.

The plants parted enough for him to see that she’d taken him high up onto the mountain, where his view of the entire town was unobstructed. People’s screams as they tried desperately to defend themselves, their homes, assaulted his ears. Glittering magic lit the night sky with silent fireworks. Fire flashed here and there, controlled by the resident fire elementals. Howls rose in challenge as the weres defended their own.

He gritted his teeth as the faint, tinny sounds of fire and police sirens raced along the streets. Fires had broken out here and there, seemingly uncontrolled. “Greg,” he whispered, hoping his friend would understand. He was no longer certain how fast Greg could travel, but if he’d beaten Parker to the forest to protect Ash, then he was betting on very.

“On it.”

“Stop it, Terri.”

Her finger tapped her chin, and yellowish-green pollen flew into the air with each tap. Parker had never been more grateful for the absence of the need to breathe. “I don’t think so. Not until you agree to my terms.”

He was bound to Amara. If he so much as sank the tip of his fang into Terri, he’d be in unbelievable agony. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re poisonous?”

She patted his cheek, leaving behind spots of slime. “I’m not poisonous to you, Parker. You know that.”

He kept his reaction from his face, but only barely. Maybe Greg was wrong. Perhaps she didn’t know about singele sotiei.

He’d use that against her, use her lust and her tainted love to keep Amara, and the rest of the town, safe.

She held up her finger and pressed it against a thorn on one of the plants surrounding him. A drop of green, sluggish…stuff came out of the wound. “Would you like a taste?”

I’d rather drink raw sewage. Although from the scent, her blood wasn’t that far off. “No, thank you. I already ate.” He caught the reddish eyes of a vampire on the hunt and prayed Terri didn’t notice. Dragos crouched in the trees above her, and he knew the cavalry he’d sent Greg to fetch had arrived. It was time to stop the madness, time to make sure she never hurt anyone again.

Parker turned to mist and freed himself from the coiling plants. “You made a grave mistake, Terri.”

“Oh?” Terri backed up, but if she was frightened, she hid it well. Perhaps she still thought she had him over the proverbial barrel.

Well, she’d just have to find out how adept Parker was at rolling that barrel. He’d crush her with it. “You pissed off the mayor.” The plant she’d wrapped him in began coiling once more around him.

Terri froze, and so did the plant. “What?”

“That would be me.” Dragos dropped to the ground, grabbed Terri’s head and twisted it clean off her shoulders. He tossed the head aside and stepped around the twitching corpse, waving his hand in front of his nose. “Phew. What the fuck is that smell?”

The plant that had wrapped itself around Parker slowly slid to the ground, its branches turning brittle, its leaves drying up. “A bad plant.”

Dragos’s brows rose. “Your tormentor, I presume?”

“Yes. Thanks for the assist.”

“No problem.” Dragos dusted off his hands. “In the words of your wife, that was one weed that needed pulling.”

Parker chuckled. “Need a hand down there?”

“It would be appreciated.” Dragos lifted off the ground. “Come on, Parker. Amara’s waiting.”

Parker slid into the air, eager to see his mate and take a long, hot bath.

Amara yelped as fire licked up the side of the building and nearly singed her bark.

“Sorry.” Mollie Ferguson shot ball after ball of fire at the weeds surrounding The Greenhouse, but it was too little, too late. They’d already breached the windows, cracked the mortar between the bricks. If they couldn’t stop this soon The Greenhouse would suffer the same fate as the town hall.

She grabbed another vine and began ripping it from the brick, trying not to wince as brick dust landed in her hair. “Terri, you bitch, get your ass out here and face me!” She growled when there was no answer.

Amara had never been so frightened in her life. All over town plants had risen and attacked the people around them. Houses were on fire as elementals tried to stop the encroaching army of thorns and brambles. The earth trembled beneath her feet as the earth elementals tried desperately to hold on to roots, to prevent the weeds from moving forward. Air elementals whipped around in a frenzy, using their own powers to try and pull the plants from the ground, ripping them in two and shattering more than one car window in the process. The water elementals had taken the lesson learned at the town hall and drained the plants of water, killing them instantly.

And it wasn’t enough. Maggie’s Grove was losing to a single insane witch who somehow held the power of the land itself in her fist.

A firebolt singed Amara’s hair. “Weed,” Mollie panted, and that was all she needed to know.

Mollie was ringed in fire. Her body had become a living blaze. Amara was impressed; she’d never seen her so angry before—or so human. She could almost like this Mollie.

A root threatened to trip her up, but a werewolf who’d joined in the fight pounced, forcing it back into the ground. Amara turned her attention back to the battle at hand. She reached down deep, searching for a plant or tree that wasn’t under Terri’s control.

There. A birch, not too far away, and another, this one an oak. Roses responded to her call, impatiens and daffodils waving their blossoms, ready to fight for their home.

Amara linked to them and used them, but unless something happened soon it was a losing battle. Already the dryads of the town had begun to drop from exhaustion. She could sense them as they fell and prayed to the Goddess someone got them to safety.

The roots of the great oak rose, smashing at Terri’s weeds with mighty blows. The birch swayed, slashing with its branches; the roses slithered along their trellises, using their thorns to cut vines from brick. The impatiens dug as deep as their shallow roots could, trying to block the moss that crept closer and closer. Even the grass tried to help, creating a thick blanket the moss couldn’t cross.

Amara bellowed another challenge, wondering why the witch wasn’t responding. She had to be close by. No one was strong enough to do this from a distance.

A weed slammed into her from behind, knocking her to the ground. Just as she saw Mollie readying one last fireball, every weed within her senses quivered. Excruciating pain slashed through her and Amara whimpered.

“Amara? Are you all right?”

All around them the weeds fell to the ground. Only dried husks, dead leaves and the fetid stench of mold remained.

Amara whimpered again. “Ow.” Please let this mean what I think it does.

Mollie fell on her ass beside her and draped her arms across her knees. She looked as tired as Amara felt. “Yeah. Ow.”

She stared at the building covered in dead vines and wildly gyrating roses. Amara stifled a laugh as she watched them dance.

“Could you do me a favor?” Mollie pushed her sweaty bangs out of her eyes with a shaking hand.

“Hmm?”

“The roses have started doing the Macarena, and it’s freaking me the fuck out. Could you make them stop?”

He couldn’t wait to tell Amara that their problems were finally over. Ken was avenged, thanks to Dragos. He followed the other vampire down the mountain, feeling lighter than the air he flew through. He alighted not far from the farmers’ market. The plants there had indeed risen up against the townsfolk, but they were dry and brittle now, like the plant that had attacked him. The fire department was working on putting out the few fires that had started, and the police were keeping the people calm and in check. No looting would occur here. Everyone pitched in. It was going to be one hell of a cleanup job, but the people of Maggie’s Grove could handle it.

“Parker!”

He turned to find his Renfield jogging toward him, his expression relieved. “You all right, Bri?”

“I’m fine.” The Renfield panted as he pulled even with Parker. “Greg let me know what was happening, and I called Dragos.”

“Good call.” Parker stared at the damage done by Terri’s homegrown weeds. “Is Amara safe?”

Brian nodded. “She’s helping out around The Greenhouse.”

Parker winced. His endangered asters might not make it if The Greenhouse was damaged. “Damn.”

“So. It’s finally over. How do you feel?”

Parker shrugged. “Same as always.”

“Really?” Brain looked startled. “I don’t look like a tasty midnight snack right about now?”

Ew. Parker shuddered. “No, you don’t.”

“Uh-oh.”

“Uh-oh?” Parker wagged his finger at Brian. “No uh-ohs. There should be yahoos or yippees, maybe even a yee-haw or two. No uh-ohs.” He slapped Brian’s shoulder. “Come on, man! It’s over. Ding-dong, the witch is dead and all that.”

“Are you sure?”

A shiver of apprehension work its way up his spine. “Dragos ripped her head off and tossed it like a beach ball. That usually means dead, even in our world.”

“But does it mean dead in Terri’s?”

“What are you trying to say?” Please let him not be saying what I think he’s saying.

“How do you kill a weed?”

“You rip it out of the ground by its roots.” Parker’s gaze drifted back toward the mountains surrounding the town, and his blood ran cold. “You think taking her head wasn’t enough.”

“You’re still under the curse, as near as I can tell.”

“Or it could be my sotiei is a dryad, and my body is permanently adjusted to drink only from her.” Please let that be the answer.

“True. But to be safe, we should check it out.”

The vampire and the Renfield locked eyes. Parker didn’t want to think even for a second that Terri could be alive somehow, but… “Get Selena.”

Brian pulled out his cell phone and dialed. “Selena? We have a problem.”

Parker barely heard Brian explaining why they needed her and where they were. If his heart could have pounded, it would have. Terri had to be dead. She had to be. Nothing could survive having its head ripped off.

Could it?

“Excuse me. Are you Dr. Parker Hollis?”

Parker whirled to face the speaker. His sunny blond hair was full of soot and his bright blue eyes were rimmed with red. He wore one of the town’s firefighter uniforms and was a full six inches taller than Parker.

And he smelled of were.

Parker snarled, his eyes burning, his claws unleashed. The wolves were not his favorite people right now. He had no intention of allowing them to think they could get away with attacking his wife without suffering the consequences, no matter what Amara said.

The wolf threw his hands up. “Whoa! Hey. Down, boy. I’m not the one whose ass you want to kick, trust me.”

Parker misted, turning invisible to all the were’s senses. He solidified behind him before he could react, one arm around the were’s throat, his fangs inches from the were’s jugular, an easy thing to do with someone taller when you could fly. “Give me one good reason why I should let you live.”

The man swallowed. “Okay. I gather the rumors that you’ve taken Amara as your mate are true?” At Parker’s slight nod, the man’s frame went rigid. “I’m not the alpha. I didn’t order the hunt on your mate.”

“But you participated. You went after her, you and your entire pack, and tried to kill her.”

“We thought we were protecting the people of Maggie’s Grove, our young, our mates. We were wrong.” The man’s arms fell to his sides. He bared his throat, leaving himself at the mercy of Parker’s teeth. “If by my death we redress the wrong done your mate, so be it. But if you must avenge her further, I beg you leave our cubs be.”

Parker closed his eyes. The anger was close to the surface, but damn it, the man had made a sacrifice of himself. He could have tried to hand Parker the name of the pack’s alpha, but instead he’d taken the blame on his own shoulders.

If Amara had been killed or even badly wounded, Parker would have taken him up on his offer and considered it done. But she hadn’t been. She’d shown them mercy. Parker could do no less.

Shit. And he couldn’t even say he had a yen for blood.

But the wolves needed to learn Amara was his. “I’m not the one you owe a debt to.” He scratched the were’s neck hard enough to draw blood. “Your pack needs to apologize to Amara.”

“I will speak with my alpha.”

“You do that.”

“And I’ll apologize for my part in it, whether he approves or not. It’s the right thing to do.”

“The right thing would have been to not go after her in the first place.”

“You’re right.”

“Who is your alpha?” Because Parker had a strong desire to reach out and touch someone. Preferably with his fangs.

“Noah Wulfenbach.”

“Is he the one with the naiad mate?”

The were shook his head. “He’s currently unmated. His brother, our beta, has the naiad mate.”

He’d need to visit Noah Wulfenbach and have a nice chat with him. “Thank you.” He released the wolf, certain the man would bolt.

He was wrong. The wolf turned and held out his hand. “Carter Hayes.” He stood there, waiting for Parker to make a move.

Parker took a deep breath and pulled his beast back. Carter wasn’t the one he wanted to punish. He knew how wolf packs were supposed to work. The true apology had to come from the alpha, or it didn’t mean a thing. He shook Carter’s hand. “Hello, Carter. A pleasure to meet you.”

Carter winced. “Yeah. I’m sure.” He rubbed a hand across the back of his neck, his weariness bleeding through now that he wasn’t so tense. “Amara wanted you to know she’s heading home. The situation at The Greenhouse is pretty bad, but she’s done what she can. The rest is up to you and Mollie.”

“I’d better head that way, then, see how bad it is.”

“You might want to call Amara, let her know you’re all right and where you’re headed. She was worried when she realized you weren’t there.”

“Thank you for passing her message along.” He hadn’t quite gotten over his problems with the wolves, but this wolf wasn’t so bad.

“You’re welcome.” Carter strode away, rubbing at the mark Parker had left on his neck. Little did the were know that the mark wouldn’t fade until he’d paid his debt. Only when Parker was satisfied or the wolf died would the mark disappear, as if it had never been.

Brian tapped him on the shoulder. “Hey. Selena’s on her way to The Greenhouse.”

Parker shot Brian a grin. “I could get used to having a Renfield around.”

Brian grinned back. “Good, because you’re stuck with me.”

“Ah, but my month isn’t up yet.” Parker teased, knowing full well he had no intention of replacing Brian. Even if Brian had been a complete flop as a Renfield, he wouldn’t have broken Greg’s heart that way.

Brian blew a raspberry at him.

“Save that for Greg.”

Brian rolled his eyes. “C’mon, I parked over here. I’ll take you to The Greenhouse, then check on Amara for you. The thing the wicked witch put inside her took a lot out of her, and the fight in town took a toll. She’s beat.”

Beat? “She’s all right?”

“Oh yeah. Just tired. I’ll cook her up a light meal when I get back, make sure she’s hydrated. She’ll be fine.”

The Renfield was settling into his life nicely. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” Brian slid behind the driver’s seat.

“So. Have you completed the ritual?”

Parker’s smile was wicked. “She’s mine.”

“Then why ask me how she’s doing? You can tell how she’s doing by thinking about her.”

Parker grinned. “You know, I’d forgotten all about that.” He focused his thoughts on Amara. His grin softened to a smile when he realized she was half-asleep, as Brian had said. “Sweet.”

“Mmm. Parker.” She shifted on the sheets. “Where are you?”

He didn’t know if she realized she was speaking to him or if she thought she was dreaming. “I’m heading to The Greenhouse. Someone named Carter told me you’d gone home. Are you all right?”

“A bit singed, but otherwise fine. How are we talking?”

“We’re bound together, sweet. I can see you.” He ran his finger across her lips and groaned when they parted. “I can feel you.”

Her tongue darted out, trying to taste his phantom flesh. “Can you make love to me like this?”

Parker’s cock jumped. He was grateful the Renfield was paying more attention to the road than the state of Parker’s jeans. “Oh hell yes, but not now. Brian’s driving, and I’d hate to embarrass myself that way. We’re meeting with Selena to see if my curse has been lifted.”

“What happened? One minute we were fighting, and the next we weren’t. Everything pretty much died around us without our help.”

“Dragos decided Terri would look better minus her head.” He didn’t tell her Brian’s theory that taking Terri’s head might not be enough to kill the bitch.

“Did Dragos do anything else with the body?”

Parker groaned. “Fuck. You think she’s alive too?”

“Who else thinks so?”

“Brian. It’s why he wants me to see Selena.”

“Go. Tell me what happens when you get home. And, Parker? Be safe, okay?”

Warmth spread through him at her concern. “I promise. Sleep well, sweet.”

“Wake me when you get here.”

He pressed a spectral kiss to her lips before pulling away, the awareness of where she was a low hum in the back of his mind. He’d keep it alive until he knew for certain Terri was gone for good.

They pulled up outside The Greenhouse. Selena’s car was already in the lot, along with Mollie Ferguson’s. Parker got out and greeted the witchdoctor. “Selena. A pleasure.”

“Parker.” She tilted her head, her markings flaring to life. “Yup. You’re cursed.”

“Shit.” Parker glared up at the mountain. “What is it going to take to kill that bitch?”

“Fire.” Parker turned, stunned, to find a disheveled Mollie Ferguson behind him. She had on the tattiest pair of jeans he’d ever seen, a T-shirt that had more holes than cloth and sneakers a ten-year-old boy wouldn’t be caught dead in. Her hair was in a sloppy ponytail, and her glasses were askew.

She’d never looked more human.

“Fire?”

Mollie nodded. “The only way to truly kill a weed is to rip it out by the roots or burn it.” Fire flickered along her skin, and Parker danced back, his instincts driving him away from the threat. Something in her eyes scared him, a burning flame that could burst at any moment. “Bring her here. I’ll be more than happy to take care of her for you.”

Selena took one step to the left, widening the gap between her and Mollie. “Yes. Well. Here’s hoping she takes the hint and leaves town.”

“Right. She’s going to leave without me? I don’t think so.” Parker sighed. The Greenhouse’s walls were covered in dead vines. More than one window was broken. Scorch marks dotted the brick-and-mortar structure. He could already tell the damage was widespread and would be expensive to repair. “We’re so fucked.”

There was a sneeze and a whoosh. Parker glanced over at Mollie, who was batting at a cinder on Brian’s jacket. “Sorry.”

“No harm done.” Brian pointed her toward her car. “You must be exhausted. Let’s face it. Parker’s a night owl. Let him deal with some of this.”

Mollie’s shoulders slumped. “You’re right. There isn’t much more I can do here.” Her expression pleading, she straightened wearily. “Please, Dr. Hollis. Make this right.”

“I will.” And he meant that in more ways than one.

Brian helped the exhausted woman to her car, and they watched her drive off.

Parker stepped into The Greenhouse and groaned. The inside was much worse. He would be cleaning up this mess for days. He hoped Amara slept well without him.

“It is time to lip-synch…for your life!”

Amara shoved some popcorn into her mouth, unable to tear her eyes away from the fabulous not-women on the screen. Glinda had never let her watch anything like this. She was absolutely fascinated. And where did they get those gowns? And the heels? They were to die for! “Are you sure they’re men?”

Brian yawned, nearly cracking his head open. “Mm-hmm.”

“They’re too pretty to be men. There has to be a trick somewhere. Oh!” Amara bounced up and down, almost spilling the popcorn in Brian’s lap. “I love this song!”

Brian yawned again. “Are you sure you aren’t tired?”

“Nope, I’m good. That nap helped a lot.” Amara pouted as the judges declared the winner. The pretty one with the sparkly eye shadow was sent home, but damn if the Asian girl hadn’t rocked. At least the funny blonde had gotten to stay. “This is fascinating.”

“Somehow I don’t see Parker in sequins.” Brian lay down, his head not quite on the arm of the couch, his feet tucked under her thigh. It looked like his head was floating, so Greg had to be there, holding his lover close. “Did you ever dress in drag?”

“Nope.”

“Not even that time with Mary Jane and the six pack?”

“You are not going to let that go, are you?”

Brian snuggled closer to Greg. “Nope. Who the hell was Mary Jane, anyway?”

“Mary Jane is another term for grass, weed, aka marijuana.” Greg sighed. “Fine. One night I was high off my ass and had a serious case of the munchies. I’d drunk a six pack with my bud, but we were starving. We headed out of our dorm and went searching for munchies, but we didn’t want any ordinary old crap. We wanted, for some bizarre reason, peanut butter mallow bars.”

“Let me guess. You went to buy some and ran into a hippie vampire?”

“Nope. The hippie vampire ran into us. Literally. He was doing that freaky-ass fast-as-shit thing you see vampires doing in the movies. He must have hit our van doing thirty miles an hour. Dented the front end in but good. My friend was knocked out, but I managed to climb out.” Greg chuckled. “First thing I did was ask him for peanut butter mallow bars.”

Amara was intrigued. She hadn’t heard this story from Parker yet. “What did he do?”

“Before or after he picked himself out of the tree he’d flown into?”

Brian laughed. “Oh Goddess. I can see it now. There you are, love beads dangling, asking for peanut butter while Parker picks leaves out of his teeth.”

“Nah, he hadn’t met Terri yet. Leaves didn’t do it for him until a couple of years later.”

“How’d you find out he was a vampire?” Brian rubbed his eyes. Amara didn’t think he’d be awake for much longer.

“The usual way. He was hungry, I was convenient and he bit me. Hell, he even gave me mallow bars after. It was the best date I’d been on in years, which is fucking pathetic now that I think back on it. We’ve been friends ever since.”

“You two are insane.” Brian yawned, his eyes drifting shut.

“Yeah, but he’s my best friend, you know? I worry about him.”

“I do know.” Brian stroked Greg’s leg. “Let me know when he gets home, ’kay?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Greg? You mind if I keep watching this?” Another episode was about to come on, and Amara had to know who won and who went home.

“Not at all. I’m lovin’ that Asian girl. She is smokin’!”

Brian pinched thin air.

“Of course, I prefer blonds.”

“You’d better,” Brian muttered. “Night.”

“Night, baby.”

Brian’s hair moved on an invisible breeze. He smiled and snuggled in. His eyes drifted shut, and soon he was snoring softly. Amara turned the sound low enough to keep from disturbing Brian. “You sure you don’t want to take him to bed? I’m okay waiting up for Parker by myself.”

“I’m good. First off, I don’t sleep much, in case you hadn’t noticed. Second, if Terri is alive, she might come here. Least I can do is protect Brian or fetch Parker if she does.”

“Our personal guard ghost?”

“Something like that.” The remote lifted off the coffee table, and the sound inched upward. “Shh. I want to hear what that bitch has to say about my girl.”

Amara was so engrossed in what she was watching that she jumped when cool arms wrapped around her from behind. “Good evening,” Parker drawled in a bad Bela Lugosi.

She laughed. “That is so cliché.”

“Do you know how long I’ve waited to use that line?”

“Since 1931?” Glinda had been a horror-movie buff, but she’d loved the vampire movies the most, so Amara was aware the first Bela Lugosi film came out that year.

Glinda would have loved Parker.

“Ha-ha, funny girl. How about, honey, I’m home.” Parker stole a soft kiss, moving quietly in the face of Brian’s snores.

“How was your day, dear?”

Parker moved around the couch, picked her up and settled with her in his lap. “Absolute rubbish. Yours?”

“Ditto.” She rested her head against his shoulder with a sigh. Her lover was safely home; she could relax.

“Sequin alert.”

Amara spun around in time to see her favorite drag queen sashay onto the runway.

“That’s a very beautiful woman.”

“Yes, she is.”

Parker stared over Brian’s head. “Greg? Since when do you like the ladies?”

“I don’t.”

Amara dug out the last of the cold popcorn and popped it in her mouth.

Parker eyed the television with suspicion. “What in blazes are we watching by the way?”

“A RuPaul’s Drag Race marathon. And I have to say thank you for introducing me to this show. Who knew men in dresses were so hot?” She bit back a laugh as Parker choked.

“Gotta love men in sequins, baby.”

“Good Goddess.” Parker lifted Amara and deposited her back on the couch. “I think I need to go do something manly, like grow chest hair.”

“Homophobe.”

“Perv. If I see Brian dancing around in dresses, I’m bleaching my eyeballs.”

“If you see Brian in dresses, then he’s obviously out of my bedroom, and why would he do that? Let me tell you, the boy’s got legs up to here.”

“Lalalalalalalala…” Parker stuck his fingers in his ears and left the room, headed for the kitchen and a midnight snack.

Amara picked up the popcorn bowl and followed him. “How was The Greenhouse? What did Selena say? Did you find Terri’s corpse and burn it to a crisp and scatter the ashes to the four winds?”

“Damn near destroyed, agreed Terri probably is alive, didn’t go looking because I was busy trying to save the lives of my astrids and no.” He pulled out the blender and gathered the ingredients for his nightly meal.

“I’ve got blood.”

He grinned over his shoulder at her. “I know, sweet. I have to space my feedings so I don’t hurt you. But I would appreciate a few drops if you don’t mind.” He poured maple syrup into the blender and began beheading carnations. “I contacted Dragos while I was at The Greenhouse. He went looking for Terri’s body but didn’t find it. Damn it.”

“I was afraid of that. Weeds are really hard to kill. I’m surprised the dryads didn’t sense her.” A few had called afterward to offer their apologies, but Amara knew it would be difficult to find Terri if she was hiding on the mountain. Amara stuck out her finger. “Tooth please.” She barely winced when Parker pricked her finger. She added some drops of her blood to his meal, then let him lick the wound closed. “I almost forgot. Brian asked us to wake him when you got home.”

Parker put the lid back on the blender. “I’ll give you a few minutes before turning this thing on.”

“Thanks.” She brushed a kiss across his cheek before heading back into the family room.

She needn’t have bothered. Brian was awake and semiaware. “Greg told me he’s home.”

“Yes. He’s about to make some dinner. Why don’t you head on up? I’m sure Greg would love to tell you all about Jujubee.”

Brian glared at Greg, his arms crossed over his chest, tapping his toe on the antique carpet.

“What? Remember the movie 300? Tell me you’d kick Gerard Butler out of bed, and I’ll call you a liar.”

“So I need to keep you away from drag queens?”

“Just like I need to keep you away from Spartans.”

Brian’s glare turned to something much hotter. “I bet you’d look hot in a leather kilt.”

“Thank you, but I fear they chafe dreadfully.” Parker sat, his gooey concoction in a beer stein with a pink bendy straw. He’d perched a jaunty purple paper umbrella on the side. He’d even added one of those plastic cocktail swords with fruit through it. She hadn’t even known she had maraschino cherries in the house. And where had he gotten pineapple? “Now I think I’m ready for this show, don’t you?” He looked back and forth between the stunned faces of Amara and Brian. “What?”

Amara rolled her eyes and curled up against him, certain life would never be dull again.

Amara followed Parker to bed in the early-morning hours. Thanks to Rock’s forced vacation, she could sleep for as long as she wanted without missing anything truly important. Greg and Brian were already at the top of the landing. Brian laughed at Parker, barely able to keep to his feet.

“Duct tape? Seriously? Down there?” Parker shuddered. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Nope. You’ve got to hide the candy, remember?” Greg’s voice was full of mirth. Amara suspected the only reason Brian was standing was the ghost holding him up.

Parker cupped his “candy.” “How do they get it back off?”

“Riiiip!”

Parker whimpered.

“Oh Goddess. I’m going to bed. You people are nuts.” Brian used the wall as a crutch, laughing his way down the hallway.

“Wait for me, Bri. Good night, guys.”

Parker continued to cup his manhood protectively. “That’s wrong on so many levels.”

Amara pushed past Parker. “I’m going to get some sleep. Are you coming?”

“I’m debating whether it’s safe.”

“I doubt a roving band of penis tapers is going to show up in the middle of the afternoon and hide your candy for you. Can we go please?” She was so tired that the walls looked like they were weaving.

“And won’t that image give me nightmares for weeks?” Parker followed her into the bedroom. He closed and locked the door behind them. “There. That should keep out the rogue penis tapers and sneaky peeping dryads.”

Amara crawled into bed, too worn-out to even remove her shoes. “Uh-huh.” She yawned, hoping Parker would shut the hell up and let her sleep.

“My poor sweet. Had a rough night, have you?” Parker tugged her shoes off one at a time. “Let me help you.”

It was her turn to whimper. “No sex. Sleep.”

“And surprisingly enough, I’m not into necrophilia. I like my women moving, thank you.” He slid her jeans off, chuckling when she glared at him out of one eye. “Sorry. My woman. Singular.” Her panties were removed next and tossed to the floor. She’d yell at him later for making a mess.

Her shirt slid up her body and over her head, followed by her bra. She bet it was somewhere next to her panties. The warm comforter was pulled over her, and a kiss brushed her forehead. “Sleep, my love. I’ll be here when you wake.”

Amara couldn’t answer. She was too busy following orders.

Chapter Ten

Parker didn’t think Amara had caught his slip of the tongue. She was so exhausted she’d barely noticed him tucking her in or his slide between the sheets. He’d joined her soon after, slipping easily into sleep.

Too bad nightmares followed him. Terri chased him through his daytime slumber, sometimes trying to cajole him into making love to her, sometimes doing horrible things to Amara while forcing him to watch. It was a mishmashed jumble of images and words that left him with no doubt her brain was as moldy as the rest of her.

Parker scented the air. If Ash was in the room again eyeing Parker’s naked sotiei, he’d make toothpicks out of him. But no strange scents assailed him, so he opened his eyes.

Amara, wide-awake and alarmingly innocent, stared down at him, her green eyes bright, her red curls tousled. “You snore.”

His lips twitched. “I do not.”

“Do too.”

“Do—I’m a vampire, love. I do not snore.” He hid his wince. He’d called her love again, damn it.

“Aha!” She reared back and pointed. “You did call me love. I knew it.” She flopped back against the headboard and crossed her arms over her chest, a satisfied smirk on her kissable lips.

Parker tried to cover his ass. He didn’t know exactly how Amara felt and had no desire to frighten her off. How do you tell the woman of your dreams that, yes, you were willing to stalk her to the ends of the earth and back? Because Parker would follow wherever Amara chose to lead him, no matter what that entailed. “I’m English. We call everyone love.”

“Liar, liar, plants for hire.”

Parker bit his lip. Goddess, his woman was crazy in a good way. “That’s pants on fire.”

“So you say, but you haven’t proved it to me this morning,” she muttered, blushing furiously. “Did I say that out loud?”

The grin Parker had been trying to hold back burst through. She was his personal ray of sunshine, and he’d gladly burn for her. “Yes, you did.” He used his telepathy to grab hold of her ankle, light enough that she wouldn’t feel it until she tried to move. He’d strengthen his hold only if she struggled. Somehow he doubted she would.

“Crap.” She tried to slide out of bed “Parker.”

“Hmm?” Parker had no intention of letting her out of that bed anytime soon, not until they’d both satisfied their early-evening itch. “Is there a problem?”

“Let me go, Parker.”

He rolled over and settled between her legs. “I’m hungry.”

“Are you?” She wrapped her arms around his neck. “Did you know the diner makes a mean Belgian waffle?”

“I’m not really in the mood to up my carbs.” Parker nibbled at her chin. “I have something much tastier in mind.”

“And then I get my waffles?”

Parker licked her neck, right where he’d left his mark. “I could live with that.”

Amara set her feet flat on the bed, her knees bent around his waist. “What are you waiting for, then? Get a move on. I’m hungry too.”

Parker pretended to glare, but he was barely holding back a laugh. “Did you just tell me to come so you can go?”

“Maybe.” She arched her hips, brushing the soft curls at the juncture of her thighs against his cock. “Are you complaining?”

“Hell yes.” He took one of her nipples into his mouth and teased it until it was hard, her breath coming in short pants. “I like to take my time, savor my meal.”

“Savoring is good.” Amara shifted slightly and lifted her other breast to his mouth. “Savor this.”

Parker bit down gently, careful not to break the skin. She’d be too sore for round two if he did that. “Mmm.”

Amara had amazingly sensitive nipples. He toyed with them until she was squirming beneath him, begging him to take her. But he wasn’t ready yet. She needed to be closer to the edge before he’d sink inside her in more ways than one. “Did I ever tell you I wanted to lick every inch of your body?”

Amara shook her head. “Fuck me, Parker.”

He smiled. Her eyes were wide, the bright green darkened with passion. “Soon, sweet. Soon.” He sat up and helped her roll onto her stomach. “First things first.” He scooted down her body until he was even with her feet. He lifted one delicate foot and sucked her toes slowly into his mouth. They curled as he loved them with his tongue, tasting the unique flavor that was his sotiei. She jerked when he ran his tongue up the arch, and he filed that ticklish spot away to exploit later. Right now he didn’t want anything distracting her from what he was doing to her body.

She’d scream when he finally sank into her.

He did the same thing to the opposite foot, loving on it until her hips jerked against the sheets. He ran his tongue up the backs of her calves and toyed with the backs of her knees, finding places that made her squirm and that made her squeal.

He moved up her thighs and bit into her ass, drawing blood with his fangs. He sipped at the sweet nectar, careful to move with her when she threw her head back with a moan and came, making the flavor that much richer. When he lifted his mouth, he smiled. “How do you feel about matching marks?”

Matching marks? He had to be kidding, right?

Nope. He wasn’t. His fangs sank into her other cheek, drawing her essence inside him. The orgasm his bite had drawn forth roared back stronger than before. She shuddered, the orgasm rolling through her with the force of a tsunami. Amara didn’t want to hold it back, didn’t want these incredible sensations to end. He could feed off her forever, and she wouldn’t complain.

“Parker. Please.” She needed him inside her, needed to feel that hot, hard length sliding and fucking and making her scream.

“Not yet. I need more.”

More? More might kill her.

But what a way to go!

His tongue was so hot, so wet as it slid up her back. She hid her shivers as best she could, but knew it was no use. He felt every move, every twitch. His hands, those strong, clawed hands, scraped up her sides, and she couldn’t help herself. She arched into his touch, eager for more of his skin against hers. When he reached the back of her neck, she could feel his cock pressing into the crease of her ass, and she wanted him there, wanted him inside her. “Fuck my ass.”

He froze.

Amara hid her smile and pressed her ass up against his rock-hard erection. “Please. I need it.”

With a savage snarl he moved off her and reached into the bedside drawer to pull out a brand-new bottle of lube. “I love a woman who thinks ahead.”

“C’mon. Give it to me.” She wiggled her ass and drew her knees up, exposing her wet pussy to his gaze.

“Shit.” The lube hit the comforter. Before Amara could complain, Parker’s tongue was inside her, fucking her pussy with long, smooth strokes.

Amara gasped and went to her hands and knees, spreading her legs wide so Parker could reach whatever he wanted. “Oh Goddess. Don’t stop.”

In answer Parker reached between her legs and stroked her clit in time with his thrusts. Amara bucked back into him, the sensations building and building in her core. Soon she was quivering with need. “Parker, please.”

His tongue left her body only long enough to make room for his cock. He slammed into her pussy and fucked her with all his strength, driving her forward. Her head and shoulders mashed into the pillow beneath her. Her pussy clenched around him as the orgasm roared through her, robbing her of breath, of movement, of anything but the feel of him.

When she could catch her breath again, she realized Parker hadn’t come yet. He was still inside her, hot and hard. His movements slowed as she came down from her high. “I’m not done with you yet.”

She couldn’t even find the will to protest. She was enjoying the hell out of this. She’d never had a lover like Parker, and she never would again. “You going to fuck my ass now?”

He slapped her ass, right on one of the bite marks he’d left behind. Incredibly her pussy said, Yes, more please, to the love tap, heating under his palm in eager anticipation.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

She nodded. Before he could react, she had him on his back. From the look on his face, she’d surprised him. “Yup. I do. Know what else I’d like?”

“What?” He tweaked her nipples, sending more ripples of pleasure down her spine.

“I’d like to ride you until you go blind.”

Parker blinked, his expression turning feral. His eyes burned into hers, bright bloodred. His cock twitched beneath her. “Oh hell.”

She giggled and reached for the lube. “First things first.” She slicked him up, taking her time. She loved the way he moved under her palm, eager and oh so ready for her.

“Let me slick you up.” He reached for the lube, but she backed away.

“Uh-uh.” She shook her finger. “Wouldn’t you rather watch?”

He swallowed hard. “Sure,” he croaked. He buried his fingers in the comforter.

Amara winked at him and turned around, straddling his thighs. She slicked up her fingers and reached behind her, bending forward slightly. She slipped a finger into her ass and moved it around, spreading the lube and preparing the way for Parker’s cock.

When she was ready, she added a second finger and fucked herself with it. It was starting to feel really good. She scissored her fingers, stretching herself farther.

Parker moaned. “So pretty. Make yourself ready for me, love.”

She added a third finger, gasping at the slight sting, her hips hunching forward. “Feels so good, Parker.”

He touched the area where her fingers entered her ass. “Bet I know something that would feel even better, love.”

She stroked into her ass faster, the dark pleasure beginning to build inside her. “What could be better than this?”

Parker was up on his knees so quickly she didn’t have time to blink. He curled his hand around the back of her neck, drew her fingers free of her ass and slowly pulled her back. His cock was at the small of her back, and a vision of what he wanted danced inside her head.

“Try this.” Parker grabbed her hips and lifted her, placing her slick ass right over his cock. She took him in one inch at a time, the burn warring with the pleasure; soon, only the pleasure was left. Far too soon her ass rested on his thighs, and his cock was so deep it throbbed in her belly. “Now. Fuck me, Amara. Take me. Make me yours.”

Amara rose on her knees until only the head was inside her, then lowered herself. She loved the slow, wet slide of him, so thick, so hard.

He tilted her head until her neck was bared. “Play with yourself, love. Come on my cock. I want to feel you coming around me.”

Amara reached between her legs and stroked her clit. The sensation as she rode him was so intense, so very good. “Like this?”

“Mmm. Pretty. Now dance for me.” It took Amara a moment to figure out what he wanted, but when she swiveled her hips and danced on his cock, he almost lost it. “Yes. Just like that. Take me, sweet.”

He licked her neck, prepping her for his bite. He tugged on her nipples, bringing them to stinging life. The added pleasure-pain caused her to move faster. She abandoned the dance and rode his cock hard, eager to bring them both to climax.

He stroked his fangs across her skin, and she knew he was close, knew he’d bite into her before they came. She clenched her muscles, needing the feel of his fangs within her, the knowledge she was feeding her mate. “Going to fuck you under my tree, Parker. Make you a part of her, a part of us. Make you mine once and for all, so no one will ever take you from me.”

His thrusts became erratic. She felt a sharp sting as one of his teeth accidentally drew blood.

“You’d like that, Parker? Like to hold me up against that rough bark, the wind caressing our bodies? My hands pressing into my tree while you fuck me from behind and take my blood?”

She was baiting the beast, but she was close, so damn close. He had to take her, had to bite her.

“Do it, Parker. Bite me. Make me yours.”

Sharp pain and then pleasure, so much pleasure she drowned in it. She screamed soundlessly as she came; her body arched into his, her ass throbbing around his cock.

She was bent forward onto her hands and knees, his body thrusting inside hers, his fangs embedded in her neck. He fucked her like a wild thing, taking what he wanted from her. He ignored her gasps as the orgasm rolled into another one, this one almost as intense, almost as good as the last.

When he finally came, she was wrung out, sweaty and tired and oh so thoroughly fucked she couldn’t do much more than purr her pleasure. She felt the gentle swipe of his tongue as he closed the wounds.

“I gather you liked that idea.”

His entire body wrapped around hers. “You think?”

She snuggled in and allowed him to warm her cooling flesh. “We’ll have to see when we can arrange that.”

“Soon,” he mumbled against her shoulder.

“Soon,” she agreed. Sooner than soon if she had her way.

She stifled her grin. I wonder when he’ll be up for round two?

Parker picked up the broken shards of the ornate pot he’d used to plant some of the hardier orchids and sighed. It was going to take forever to get The Greenhouse back up and running.

Luckily he had an in with the owners. “Greer?”

“Yeah?” The blond poked his head out from behind some ferns he was manhandling onto a table. The ferns were beat up, but with loving care, they’d survive what had happened. “It’s going to take a lot longer than we thought to get this place back open.”

Greer shrugged and hefted the second pot. It had to weigh almost as much as he did. “I know. Ash knows. Mina is ticked, but she knows too. It is what it is, man.” The dryad leaned over and whispered to the ferns. Parker swore the plants quivered in green ecstasy.

“Terri is alive.” Parker’s jaw clenched. It had been three days since the attack on the town, and he’d neither seen nor scented his nemesis. He’d hunted for her high and low, in and out of the forest, but he’d found no sign other than a blackened patch of ground where Dragos had ripped off her head. Mina had been livid.

She’d circled the area, chanting so softly Parker couldn’t pick up the words. When she was done, not a leaf would drop into that spot. It was isolated from the rest of the wood by the forest queen’s will and would remain that way until she was satisfied the poison had been completely leached from the soil. Earth elementals monitored the site, trying to repair the damage. From their hollow looks, it wasn’t going well.

Amara had watched Mina’s ritual with wide, glowing eyes, and he’d understood instantly how much being included had meant to her. The knowledge that the local dryads not only accepted her presence but wanted it had lifted his dryad’s spirit. Last he heard, the town’s female dryads had organized some sort of shopping trip. He’d told her to come home with plenty of lacy underthings or not at all.

He rubbed the top of his head where she’d smacked him with a cooking spoon. Sometimes his wife had no sense of humor.

“Don’t worry. We’re keeping our eyes open for her. Mina would love to have a chat with her.” Greer whispered to an orchid, and the flower bloomed for him.

“I hope she doesn’t come back here. What happened hurt Mollie quite a bit. She loves this place. Did you see the scorch marks?”

Greer’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t look up from the plant he was repotting.

Interesting. “She made those marks trying to save this place. Thing is, she was almost dead on her feet by the time I got here.” Greer’s cheek twitched, and Parker wondered if he’d found the source of Mollie’s fascination with plants. He decided to test the waters, so to speak. Getting Mollie loosened up would make his life a hell of a lot easier. Her attitude toward him had softened quite a bit since the attack, asking after Amara and allowing him the time for his nightly hunts without argument. He’d watched the loving way she handled the plants; this was more than a hobby for her. It was her passion. The woman who’d worked her ass off for this place was someone he’d come to respect. She was someone he was coming to like as well. He hadn’t quite managed to get her to the point where she would actually laugh at one of his jokes, but he’d come close.

“Mollie mentioned a joint program with the learning center where kids who visit one can get half-price tickets to the other. What do you think?”

“It’s fine.”

Huh. This was the quietest he’d ever heard Greer.

“She might even start doing weekend work at the center.”

Greer grunted and set the pot back on the ground.

“I think she’d do a wonderful job teaching the children about the plants in their natural habitat. What do you think?”

“Whatever. Hand me the potting soil.”

Parker gave him the twenty-five-pound bag, and Greer set it on the stainless-steel worktable. “Speaking of the forest, what if Terri’s in the heart of it, hiding like some kind of poisonous vine, waiting for a chance to strike again?”

Greer crumpled the edge of the table like paper with his bare hands. “We kill her.”

“Fascinating.” Parker shook his head. “Why is Amara considered the guardian of your species if you can all do that?”

Greer looked down at his hands. Shock raced across his features before it was quickly wiped away. “No reason.” He pointed toward the office door. “Fergie in yet?”

Fergie? Parker wouldn’t dream of calling Mollie Fergie. He’d barely wrapped his brain around calling her Mollie, and that only after she’d insisted. “Not that I’m aware of. She spent most of today cleaning up and left a note that she planned on returning first thing in the morning.” And considering Fergie was usually there at the crack of dawn and left late at night, she had to be exhausted.

“She needs to get more rest. If her emotions aren’t under control, she runs the risk of setting fires she doesn’t want to.”

“Really? I thought elementals were taught to control their powers from the cradle.”

Greer hefted another massive pot onto the table, careful of the crumpled edge, and whispered to it, packing potting soil around the exposed roots. “Fergie’s a halfer.”

“Um. What?”

Greer chuckled. “Halfer. Her father was human, her mother a fire elemental. With halfers, you never know if you’re going to get a supernatural, a human with psychic powers or an ordinary human. Fergie got her mom’s abilities, but they didn’t hit until puberty. No one’s quite sure why, except maybe Selena, and she’s not talking.”

Puberty, eh? “When did you meet Mollie?”

Greer put the pot back on the ground and hefted the next one. “When we were young, maybe eleven or twelve. Why?”

“And she suddenly had powers. Think about it.”

Greer shook his head, the orange highlights looking like…well, flickering fire. “No way. Fergie’s gay.”

Parker burst out laughing. “Gay?”

“Yes, gay. What’s so funny about that?”

Parker laughed harder. “Parker. That’s not funny. We accept everyone here—gay, straight, werewolf, cursed vampire. You name it. Making fun of someone because—”

Parker held up his hand, cutting Greer off. “She’s not gay.”

“Yes, she is. Several people have told me so.”

“And you believed them?” Parker wiped tears of laughter from his eyes. “Trust me, she’s not gay.”

Greer, a stubborn expression on his face, crossed his arms over his chest. “How would you know?”

“Because she checked out my ass.”

Greer chuckled. “Yeah, right. That flat old thing?”

“Jealous much?” He smirked at Greer’s snarl. “I know when a woman checks out my ass, and her eyes were all over it.” Of course, that was weeks ago, but Greer didn’t need to know that. And once Mollie realized he was her new employee, all checking out of body parts had stopped.

“Which one? The one behind you or the one on your shoulders?”

“Ha-ha. Funny man. You mark my words. Mollie is very much into men.”

Greer relaxed with a grin. “Prove it.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. Put your money where your mouth is, pretty boy. Prove Fergie isn’t gay.”

“First off, if I lay a hand on her, Amara will go bonkers, and we all know how that would turn out. Second—Hell. I will prove it.” And he knew just the man to help him too. “Watch this.” Parker pulled out his cell phone and punched a number he now had on speed dial.

“Hello?”

Carter was strangely alert. Perhaps he was on the night shift. “Evening, Carter.”

Greer flinched.

“Hey, Parker.” Carter seemed remarkably happy to hear from him. Perhaps he was ready to pay his debt. “What can I do for you?”

Parker put it on speakerphone. “Remember that debt you owe me?”

Carter didn’t hesitate. “Mine or the pack’s?”

“Yours. I need a favor.”

“Name it.”

“I need to prove to someone that Mollie Ferguson is not a lesbian. Think you can help me?”

“Mollie? A lesbian?” Carter laughed so hard Parker had to turn down the volume. “You’re kidding me, right?”

“Nope. I’m at The Greenhouse with Greer Berkeley, and he’s insisting Mollie is gay.”

Carter snorted. “Yeah, right. That’s why she paid twice to come to my kissing booth at the county fair last summer. Girl has some serious lips on her.” Carter’s voice had gone dreamy yet hungry, and Parker knew he’d relished the chance to kiss the woman.

“So you’ll do it? Prove Mollie isn’t gay?”

“Man, twist my arm. Hell, I need to owe you debts more often.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

“You can take that as a hell yes.”

Greer’s jaw went slack. “Oh hell no.”

The table Greer was working at snapped in half. Parker looked over at the startled, angry dryad. “Hmm.”

“What hmm? And what was that noise?”

“I think Greer doesn’t like you wanting to date Mollie.”

Carter snorted again. “He had his chance and blew it. Now it’s my turn.”

Greer threw his hands up in the air. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Mollie asked you to prom, remember? And you turned her down. Some say you turned her down so hard she completely bottled herself up and that’s why we rarely see the old Mollie. But you watch. I have every intention of bringing that Mollie back. All that fire and passion. Think about it, Greer. That’s a hell of a fire a man can warm himself at.”

“She was a child, Carter.”

“So you knew she had a crush on you?”

Parker was fascinated. He hadn’t intended to open a can of worms, but apparently he had.

“No!” Greer’s hair moved on its own like leaves in a breeze. “She had a crush on Mina, not me!”

Carter erupted once more into laughter. “Dude. You are blind. But hey, your loss will definitely be my gain. Thanks for the call, Parker. I’m more than happy to repay this debt.” Carter disconnected the call.

Greer’s eyes were wide and unfocused. “She wanted Mina, not me.”

“And that’s why you turned her down, because you thought she wanted your queen?”

Greer shuddered. The sound of leaves rustling was painfully loud in the quiet greenhouse. “Partially.”

“And are you going to let our resident fireman win the lady?”

If looks could kill, Parker would have been digging himself out of his grave again. “What do you think?”

“I think he’s two kisses up on you.”

“Are you trying to get one of my wolves into trouble, Mr. Hollis?”

The deep, gravelly voice sent Parker’s beast into a frenzy. He prepared himself for battle with the man who’d hunted Amara through the woods like an animal. “Noah Wulfenbach, I presume?” He turned to face the huge wolf standing in the doorway.

Noah Wulfenbach had to be at least six-four, with dark hair and eyes black as night. An aura of power surrounded him that had been missing from the other wolves Parker had met.

This man was dangerous; he knew it, and he was damn proud of it. If he’d hunted anyone else’s mate Parker would have felt a grudging respect for him. Hell, he might even have believed the man had been well within his rights.

Except he’d hunted Amara. And Parker was as dangerous as the wolf.

“I believe you wanted to speak to me.”

Parker grinned viciously, not that he cared. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t drain you dry.”

Noah shrugged. “We were protecting our people.”

“You would have killed her.”

Again the wolf nodded, showing no remorse.

“What would you do if it had been your mate?”

“I have no mate, so I don’t know.”

Greer jumped lightly onto the end of the broken table, and Parker knew where some of Tolkien’s light-footed elves had gotten their abilities. The dryad stood on the tilted edge with all the ease Parker showed on the level concrete floor. “Knock it off, Noah. You were wrong, and you know it. Unless you make reparation to both Amara and her blood mate, you’ll have trouble no matter what forest you enter.”

Noah crossed his arms over his chest and glowered at Greer. “Can you tell us where Terri is?”

“I wish. She’s hidden so well not even the tree roots can find her.” Greer jumped off the table edge. He landed gracefully, barely making a sound. “But maybe I can check with the others. We’ve never searched for anything like her before, and we’re not entirely certain we can find her.”

“You’re the Dr. Doolittle of plants. If you can’t get something out of the forest, I’d be shocked.” Noah took a step forward and extended his hand. “Tell me about hamadryads, Parker.”

He eyed the alpha wolf with disdain. “Why?”

“So our cubs don’t make the same mistake we did.”

Greer rolled his eyes and returned to his plants. “That’s his idea of an apology, by the way.”

“The only way to stop the mistakes of the past from repeating themselves in the future is if we learn from them. What are the signs of the hamadryad? How will we know one when we see one? What can we do to assist him or her, and can a hamadryad go bad?”

Parker growled.

“Not that yours did.”

It was a concession, of sorts.

Noah had asked Parker the question, but it was Greer who answered. “The hamadryad is the truest guardian of the forest you’ll ever meet.” Greer kept his attention on the plant on the table. “You really fucked up going after Amara the way you did. If you’d been alone, she could have killed you with a thought.”

Noah’s left eyelid flinched, the only indication he gave that he understood exactly how merciful Amara had been.

“You saw her other form?”

Noah nodded. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“And you never will again.” Parker watched Greer, happy, fun-loving Greer, go cold. The dryad’s gaze bored into the alpha to drive his point home. “The hamadryad can be human or—” his gaze darted over to Parker, his lips twitching, “—weretree.”

Noah coughed. “Weretree?”

Parker rolled his eyes. “Shut up.”

“They can command any plant life within a certain radius to do their bidding, but it tires them, and their first instinct is to protect that plant life. Hell, their first instinct is to protect every living thing within the hamadryad’s territory.” Greer grinned. If he’d been a vampire, his fangs would have been showing. “Amara would sooner chop off her leg than hurt the people of Maggie’s Grove. Too bad the same can’t be said of all of you.”

Noah was silent.

Parker stared at him and knew what he wanted him to do. “I want an apology from you.”

Noah scowled. Someone less sure of himself might have growled.

“Not to me. To Amara. Your pack has tormented her for years, tried to kill her. If it were up to me, those trees you wound up in would have pulled off your furry nuts.”

Noah couldn’t quite hide his wince.

“But my mate didn’t do that. She left you safe and sound in your woodsy cocoons and came home to protect your mates, your cubs. So yes, I think you owe Amara an apology.”

Noah met his eyes, and for a moment there was the distinct possibility the wolf would attack him.

Noah took a deep breath and bowed. “Of course.” The man straightened, looking like he’d rather be anywhere but here. “When and where?”

He was willing to do it in public? Parker jumped on that. “Two nights from now, at Mayor Ibanescu’s Founders’ Day party.” Dragos had considered canceling the celebration, but Amara had pointed out that now more than ever his people needed to relax and remember why Maggie’s Grove had been established in the first place. They needed to be reminded that this was home—for all of them.

But if they didn’t catch Terri before Dragos’s party, they’d be one giant target. Dragos planned to have a security detail with strict instructions on how to spot Terri and her peculiar brand of magic. Someone would figure out where she was and alert the mayor, who would fetch Parker, Amara and anyone who’d agreed to help them which, from what Dragos had said, would be the entire freaking town. Terri wouldn’t survive very long if she went after the partygoers. Rumor had it the witches had something especially vile planned for the rogue witch.

Noah sighed. “Of course.” His expression hardened. “But after this our debt is paid and our safe passage through the woods once more secured.”

Parker nodded. “Done.”

The wolf held out his hand, and Parker took it. “Done.”

Greer’s hand landed on top of theirs, making it official. “Done.”

A public apology from a man who apparently never gave them would go a long way toward repairing Amara’s image. Added to the fact that she’d fought tirelessly for them during Terri’s attack, and soon his mate would be able to walk down the street surrounded by friendly faces.

It would do.

“My pack wants to assist in hunting down your strega, Mr. Hollis.”

Parker’s brows rose. “That’s a term for witch I haven’t heard in a while.”

Noah smiled. “Would you prefer vomitous mass?”

“It’s about as accurate. Let’s see. Dragos ripped her head off, but the bitch managed to escape.”

Noah shuddered. “Neat trick.”

“She’s fast, she’s got the weeds on her side, she survived being decapitated and the only way we’ll be able to take her out is to chop her up into tiny pieces and burn her to ashes.” He eyed the wolf. “Still want to help me?”

In answer, Noah cracked his knuckles. Six-inch claws slipped from his fingertips, and his eyes shone with feral light.

“All righty, then.” Parker grinned. “Have your boys sniff around the areas where rotten vegetation would grow.”

“Compost heaps would make a great hiding place for someone like Terri,” Greer added cheerfully.

Noah grunted. “Wonderful.”

Chapter Eleven

When she stepped into the all-night café, Amara got a wary nod instead of the scowl that usually graced the owner’s face. Amara ignored it and bought a bagel and a large coffee, then headed straight to the table at the back where Rock sat. Things had certainly changed around town since the dryads had opened up to her, but it would take time before the rest of the town followed suit, if they ever did. “Hey, Rock.”

“Amara. Here’s the deal. I’m changing your shift.”

She grimaced. “I don’t blame you. The people will start pulling their kids from the learning program if you keep me there.” She wasn’t happy about it, but she understood.

“Nah, that’s not why I’m doing it. They don’t like you, fuck them.” Rock rarely cursed. “No, I’m moving you to night shift.”

“Wait. Since when do we have a night shift?”

Rock grinned. “It’s mostly vamps and some wolves who prefer the late-night scene. Congratulations, you’re their token dryad.”

“Why would you stick me with them, then?”

Rock’s brows rose. “You’re the mate of a vampire. You think your sleeping habits aren’t going to change?”

Amara wrinkled her nose. “True.” She had been sleeping a lot more during the day. A wolf walked through the door, took one look at Rock and Amara and walked right back out, pulling his cell phone out of his pocket as he went. Amara hid her sigh.

Hell, maybe she should dig up her tree and move.

“Don’t let it get to you. I hear Parker was throwing his weight around with the weres. Rumor has it the alpha was going to talk to him.”

“Oh hell.” Amara stood. “Do you know when?”

“Sit down and let Parker handle this.”

“He can’t face Noah by himself!” Noah was the strongest wolf in Maryland, possibly the United States. He’d tear Parker to pieces.

“If Parker can’t face Noah, he’ll lose what respect he’s managed to build in the pack. And frankly Noah could stand to face someone who isn’t intimidated by him. I get the feeling not much bothers your blood mate.”

“There are things that make Parker go eep.” Like duct-taped penises, but Parker wouldn’t appreciate her mentioning that.

Rock shook his head. “Real men don’t say eep.”

“And they don’t scream like little girls when they see spideys either.”

Rock blushed. “That was different.”

“Oh?”

“I was ten years old, and it landed in my lap.”

Amara curled her fingers and wiggled them. “Ooooh. Spiiiideeeys.”

Rock balled up a napkin and threw it at her. “Just for that I’m giving you the graveyard shift, midnight to six.”

“Bastard.”

“I will remind you, again, that my parents were married.”

“Amara?”

Oh hell. She recognized that voice. She glanced down to see if the cream in her coffee had curdled. “Hey, Kate.”

“I understand you’re hunting whatever it was that attacked the town hall the other night.”

Amara stared up into Kate’s icy eyes and wondered what the hell Dragos was doing with her. She was as warm and cuddly as a polar bear. “Yup.”

“Well?”

Amara’s brows rose. “Well, what?”

Rock hid his grin behind his thermal cup.

“How is the hunt going?” Kate’s tone was full of self-righteous, arrogant demand.

She held up her half-eaten breakfast. “So far I’ve managed to kill two packets of sugar and a bagel.”

Kate sniffed. “Maybe we need to get a real hunter to take care of this.”

Amara smiled sweetly. “You go right on ahead and do that, Kate. Hire a hunter to track down a cursed witch in the forest. See how far he or she gets.”

“Is that a threat?”

She snorted, amused. “No. Unless you hire Van Helsings, in which case all bets are off.” Amara allowed some bark to seep over her hands. “You wouldn’t do that, would you, Kate?” Considering how much magic the local witches poured into keeping Maggie’s Grove off the hunters’ radar, it would take a true miracle for them to find out about it accidentally.

Or a resident would have to invite them in.

A resident like Kate.

Kate turned on her four-inch heel and left without another word.

“Man, I hate that bitch.”

“Why is Dragos tapping that, anyway? You’d think he could find someone better to sink his dick into.”

Amara shrugged again. “Don’t know, but whenever I try to ask, he growls at me and refuses to answer.”

“You don’t think she’s got him under some kind of spell, do you?”

“Nah. Selena would have noticed something like that and taken care of it. He’s just got tragically bad taste in women.”

Rock took her hand. “So. This Terri person who’s after Parker.”

“Yeah?”

“Your five days’ vacation are up. Your sole job now that you’re back to work is to hunt that bitch until she’s dead. Got it?” Something about the way Rock was watching her scared her. She’d never seen him so bloodthirsty. “I want the threat to our forest and town gone.”

“You think she’s hiding in the woods.”

Rock shook his head. “She’s on the mountain, off the trails. I can feel her there, deep in the rocks, and they’re trying to reject her. I’m betting she’s in one of those caves we warn people to stay away from.”

Damn it. That explained why they couldn’t find her; the only plants that lived in the caves wouldn’t respond to a dryad, and the forest wouldn’t know she was there until she moved out of it. It could also explain why Parker was having such a hard time finding her. The damn lichen-infested caves would disguise her scent.

“I need to talk to Parker. If you’re right and she’s in the caves, I need him to go hunting with me.”

A shadow fell over their table. “Mind if I tag along?”

Amara whirled and stood, ready to fight the pack alpha.

“Down, girl. I’m no threat to you, not now.” Noah’s hands were out, indicating he’d come in peace. “It appears we have a common enemy.”

Amara didn’t relax, not by a breath. “Did you speak to Parker?”

Something cold and ruthless slid across his features before they returned to bland politeness. “Yes.”

“Is he in one piece?”

“I can honestly say he was more ready to attack than I was.”

Rock coughed. “If you two are done pissing around each other, since when are you allowed back in the woods, Noah?”

“Greer gave us special dispensation to hunt the threat to the town.”

“And Parker will let you hunt with Amara, why?”

“I agreed to a public apology at the Founders’ Day party,” the alpha growled.

“You agreed to what?” Noah never apologized. It went against the macho alpha code.

“Don’t make me repeat it.” Noah groaned and lowered his hands. “I will hunt with you and help your mate keep you safe.”

And thus prove to the other wolves that their alpha had accepted her. “Thank you.”

Noah gave her a swift nod and turned on his heel. “Tomorrow night. I’ll meet you at the foot of the mountain.” He left without a backward glance.

“Well. That was surreal. Should I start looking for the cameras?”

Amara picked up her coffee. “Cameras?”

“Candid Camera. Jeez, what did Glinda allow you to watch on television? Gardening shows? This Old House?”

Well, those, but there were the other shows Glinda had allowed. Amara ticked them off on her fingers. “Looney Tunes, Merrie Melodies, Tom and Jerry…”

“Thus explaining your strong desire to drop anvils on people.”

“Hey, it worked for Bugs.”

Amara tossed her empty coffee cup and waved goodbye to Rock. She was eager to start her night’s hunting, but first she needed to pick up Parker. She wrenched open the driver’s-side door of her jeep, eager to start.

“Hello, sweet.”

Amara screeched and slapped Parker’s stomach. “Don’t do that!”

Sitting behind the wheel, her vampire laughed and opened the passenger-side door for her. “In a hurry, are we?”

She ran around the hood and climbed in. She fastened her seat belt with shaking hands. “Shit. You damn near gave me a heart attack.”

“Sorry. Vampires tend to be good at the whole stalking thing. We can’t help it. It’s instinctive.”

She rolled her eyes and handed him the keys. “Fine. You’re in the driver’s seat. Drive. Base of the mountain, and hurry.”

His brows rose, but he started the jeep and burned rubber. “What’s going on?”

“Rock says Terri is hiding in some caves up on the mountain.”

“Ah.”

“If we can flush her out, we can use the forest to find her.”

He grinned.

“What? It’s a good idea.”

“I know. That’s why I mentioned it to Greer.”

“When did you see Greer?” Amara hung on to the grab bar and prayed for a clean death as Parker took a turn on two wheels.

“Tonight. He helped me in The Greenhouse with the heavy lifting.”

Her brows rose. “You wimp you.”

“I know. What can I say? Perhaps I should have my manly-man card taken away.”

“Oh, before I forget, I’m supposed to go hunting with Noah tomorrow. Eep!” Parker screeched around another corner, startling some fauns into running for cover.

“Noah, eh?” Parker’s tone was mild, but when he glanced at her, she could detect red glints in his eyes.

“He says he’s going to apologize to me publicly. He also offered to guard my back.”

“Good.”

“How do you think his pack will take that?”

“I really don’t give a flying fuck.”

Amara blinked.

“Okay, I could if I wanted to, but only with you. Noah doesn’t do it for me.”

She bit her lip. “Speaking of which, did you know the parking lot of the Sav-A-Lot has security cameras?”

“It does?” The jeep rumbled out of town, toward the forest and the base of the mountain.

“Yeah. Rock told me. I know these people. Our asses are going to be hanging out on YouTube.”

“Nah. Xtube.”

Amara groaned. “What the hell is Xtube?”

Parker grinned, showing his fangs “What do you think it is?”

“Oh Goddess.” She thumped her head against the seat. “What next?”

The road exploded in a shower of stones and dirt.

“Down!” Parker roared, ripping the wheel sideways and barely avoiding the poison sumac erupting from the ground. The treelike weed reached for the jeep, cracking the windshield faster than Parker could maneuver away. “Fuck!”

Amara ducked. At this speed there wasn’t much she could do, but she knew one thing for certain now: Terri was no longer hiding.

She glared at the sumac trees. “Oh hell. Floor it!” Creeping vines raced down the road after the jeep, leaping from the earth like dolphins in the surf. Parker cursed as the jeep surged forward in an attempt to stay ahead of the vines.

“If someone else comes along this road, they’re screwed!” Amara was moving so quickly she couldn’t concentrate, couldn’t commune with the plants alongside the road. As she made contact, the delicate thread was lost to distance.

If she was going to fight, she was going to have to get out of the jeep. “Stop the car!”

He glared at her. “Hell no.”

“I can’t fight if we’re moving at a hundred miles an hour!”

He snarled. “Hold on!” Parker spun the jeep, narrowly missing a tree. “Go.”

Amara leaped from the car and allowed her hamadryad nature to take over. Thick, flexible bark covered her skin. Leaves sprouted in her fiery curls. She grew three feet, and her clothes fell to shreds. Amara gave in to the fire burning inside her and roared, the sound a challenge and a call to the forest to aid its champion.

And the forest answered. Roots lifted, branches swayed as the forest came alive and prepared to do battle with the enemy. The trees raked at anything that came within reach, narrowing the field where the weeds could work to a thin section of the road that Amara could somewhat control. The underbrush kept the weeds from getting into the roots of the trees, protecting them from being destroyed.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Parker swoop out of the sky and rip into a vine. Bright blood dripped to the ground; he was wounded. The vines had thick, vicious thorns like the ones they’d fought before. They tore at his clothing, ripped into his exposed flesh. Too many wounds like that and he would go down or become lost in his beast.

Amara surged forward and ripped into one of the thorny vines, snagging a long, whiplike piece. She used it the same way she’d used a similar weed in Parker’s garden, scourging the plants, shredding them. She leaned down and got the thick trunk of one of the sumac plants and tore it from the earth. It was like watching an earthquake. The roots snaked almost twenty feet in every direction. She couldn’t get the leverage to get the damn thing out of the ground, no matter how hard she yanked.

“Give me that.” Parker grabbed hold and flew upward, pulling the sumac out of the ground and flinging it away with amazing strength. “I’ll deal with those. You handle that thorny son of a bitch.”

Amara nodded and turned her attention to the vine.

The yelp of a wounded wolf startled her. A huge black-and-gray wolf savaged one of the thorny vines, a tear in his shoulder dripping blood onto his dark coat. Amara grinned and turned back to her vine. Noah could handle himself.

“Holy shit! It’s resisting everything we throw at it!” Greer’s voice came up behind her. “Ash, you take the left. I’ll take the right. Mina, take center.”

“On it.” The dryads moved in sync, battling back the weed with flashing swords and ringing curses. Wherever those swords touched, weeds blackened and withered.

Where can I get me one of those? Amara flinched as a thorn came dangerously close to her vulnerable eyes. “Oh no, you don’t.” Amara grabbed and pulled, trying to ignore the way the vine wrapped around her arm. Those thorns could penetrate flesh but couldn’t dent the bark that covered her. With a vicious grin, Amara pulled it free of the ground and threw it, careful to avoid hitting one of her allies.

A deep scream of triumph shattered the night air. She glanced up to find Parker whirling the last of the sumac over his head. The vines were almost gone, the last pocket of resistance being slowly whittled away by Greer and Ash. Amara lifted her head and gave a triumphant shriek.

“Having a good time, love?”

Amara grinned at her floating lover. His face was on a level with hers. “Hell yes.”

“Good fight. Although I never thought it would take quite so much skill and cunning to sneak up on a blade of grass.” Noah’s naked form stalked forward, and Amara tried to stop herself from admiring the strong, broad shoulders and sleekly muscled body. And damn, what an ass the man had! She tilted her head, trying to catch one last glimpse before the wolf moved into the forest.

“Ahem.”

She whipped her head back around to Parker. “Nothing.”

He narrowed his glowing red eyes. Greer laughed.

Ash, on the other hand, was looking around, a worried frown forming. “Where’s Mina?”

Greer stopped laughing. “What do you mean where’s Mina? She was right behind us.”

The dryads exchanged a glance. “Oh fuck.”

Parker darted off into the trees as fast as Greer and Ash. Amara took a deep breath and tried to calm herself. She’d need focus to commune with the trees. They would know where their queen was.

If the witch had Oak, she could control the entire forest.

Amara reached out to the trees around her. Her thoughts raced from root to branch, searching desperately for the ruler of the forest. She ignored the pain in her body, the sharp sting of wounds inflicted by the thorny vine. She needed to find Mina before Terri could harm her. Even ponds heeded her call, the plants beneath their surface crying out to her to find Oak, to protect and defend as she’d been born to do.

Her mind found a curiously blank patch in the wood, a place she knew for certain contained green, growing things, but nothing there answered. And the plants around it were afraid.

Found you, you bitch. Amara raced off. “Greg!” The ghost didn’t answer. Either they’d moved too quickly for him to keep up, or he hadn’t been along in the first place. So Amara raced in blind, sending a message from plant to plant, trying to let Ash and Greer know she’d found Terri’s hiding place.

Beside her, a huge gray-and-black wolf raced with her, hunting with her as he’d sworn to do. A howl rose through the air, the alpha calling his pack, paying back the debt they owed the forest. Howls rose around her, racing ahead and behind, the wolves running to answer their alpha’s summons. Amara prayed her message got through to Greer and Ash before she found herself facing off with Terri without them.

Parker landed next to Ash. It was difficult to keep up with the green-haired dryad. He blended in well with the dark forest, and his scent was that of rich, dark earth and wood. If he’d been immobile, Parker would never have seen him.

So it was a good thing he’d kept an eye on Ash, because the man stopped dead in his tracks, going motionless as a doe hearing the first sounds of hunters.

“What’s wrong?”

Ash’s face was lifted to the wind as he listened to the rustling of the leaves. A savage grin flitted across his face. “She found them.”

“Where?” Parker didn’t need to ask who. Amara continued to amaze him.

“Follow me.”

Parker did, not surprised at all when Greer joined them, the pale-haired man a living flame in the dark wood. “Call Mollie.”

Greer stumbled.

“We need her to defeat Terri.”

Greer shot him a disbelieving look.

“Trust me. Please.”

Greer pulled out his phone and pressed a button.

He has her on speed dial? He was reacting on instinct, and that instinct told him he’d need even more firepower if they hoped to succeed. “Dragomir Ibanescu!”

A sharp wind howled through the wood, swirled around Parker and coalesced into the mayor. “You rang?”

“We found her, and she has Oak.”

Dragos’s eyes burned red. “Where?”

“The dryads know. Amara found her.”

He flew beside Parker, his expression livid. “Is she alive?”

“I don’t know yet. None of the dryads can feel inside the circle.”

Dragos batted a branch out of his face, one of the dangers of flying so swiftly through trees. “Trap?”

“I’m certain, but I’m equally certain that won’t stop the dryads from reaching their queen.”

Dragos nodded. He paused midflight and closed his eyes. “Selena. Come to us. We need you.”

Ash ground to a halt. “No.”

“Too late. She’s on her way. We’ll need her to contain Terri’s spirit once we’ve destroyed her body.”

“It’s too dangerous.”

Dragos whirled, his fangs inches away from Ash’s face. “If we don’t do this, we’ll lose Mina. Is that what you want, dryad?”

Ash’s silver sword flashed up between them. “Do not dare to presume you understand my actions, vampire.”

Dragos smiled. “Selena is yours.”

“Is Mina yours?” Ash smiled back.

He floated back, once more the calm, cool mayor Parker had first encountered. “We’re wasting valuable time.”

His reaction seemed to stun Ash, who stared at Dragos with dawning comprehension. “Mina is your sotiei, isn’t she?”

“This isn’t the time. Let’s save the girl from the monster before fighting over her, all right?”

Greer grabbed Ash and tugged him forward. “Parker’s right. Let’s go. We can discuss Dragos and Mina later.”

“After we save her.” Parker flew forward once more, not surprised when this time Dragos flew behind them. He’d have to talk to the elder vampire later, ask him why, if he knew who his sotiei was, he continued the affair with Kate.

The stinky, probably evil Kate.

“Shit. If Iva were here, Mina would be fucking unstoppable.” Greer was growling, his silver sword shining despite the darkness underneath the canopy of leaves.

“Greer.” Ash’s tone was sharp, his glance full of censure.

Greer didn’t answer, but he stopped talking about Iva.

Parker didn’t give a fuck who Iva was; he scented his sotiei, and she was close, which meant they were nearly to their destination. “Amara.”

“Parker?”

“Who else? Can I look through your eyes?”

“You could, but you won’t see anything.” He could hear the disgust in her tone. “It’s like there’s this dark miasma around the area. I’m blind to anything in the clearing.”

Hmm. Parker flew toward Amara’s scent and landed lightly behind her. “I’m here, love.”

It was a good thing he had fast reflexes, or he would have found himself halfway back to Maggie’s Grove as she swung at him haymaker-style. “Damn it, what did I tell you about sneaking up on me?” She put her fists on her hips and tapped her foot.

“That it keeps you on your toes?”

She rolled her eyes and turned back to stare into the clearing. “Why can’t I see anything?”

Parker stared into the perfectly normal-seeming moonlit clearing. “What are you looking for?”

“Terri. Duh.”

He slapped her bark-covered ass and resisted the urge to shake the sting out. “Smart-ass. Fine. What do you see in there?”

“Pure darkness.”

His brows rose. “Interesting.” Dragos landed next to him and did a bit of staring. “What do you see in there?”

“A moonlit clearing.”

“Greer? Ash? What do you see?”

“Darkness. It’s like a hole has been cut into the forest itself.”

Ash nodded his agreement. “Greer’s right. There’s a blackout curtain around the entire area.”

“I wonder what the witch and the elemental will see.”

“You called in Rock?” Dragos began to pace along the edge of the clearing, his gaze glued to the interior.

“No. Mollie Ferguson.”

“You’re joking. A fire elemental? Here?”

“You have a better idea?”

“Unholy crap.” The vampires turned, and Parker couldn’t help but laugh. Selena was on, of all things, a broomstick. A shaken Mollie clung to her, pale and sweating. “Well. This is another fine mess you’ve dragged me into.” Selena winked and hopped off the broom. Mollie squeaked and grabbed the handle. “Wuss.”

Mollie glared at her, sparks dancing along her skin. “How’d you like to walk back, witch?”

“Your ass would be walking back too, so I wouldn’t burn the ride.” Selena turned back to Parker. “Well?”

Parker ignored the way Greer carefully helped Mollie to the ground. “What do you see in the clearing?”

“An unholy mess.” Selena’s markings flared, her eyes glazing over. “Whoever put that trap in place knew her enemy. She’s expecting the dryads.”

“But not us.” Parker was all for striding in there and revving up his weed trimmer.

“Oh no. She’s expecting you too. That’s the other half of the trap, you see. It looks like it’s designed to kill them and leave you incapacitated.”

“And when I’m unconscious, she’ll feed me her blood, thus making a bond.” Parker grunted. “Right. Bloody hell. She’s got Mina.”

“Well. Fuck a duck. That’s not good.” Selena stared around. “There. I think the trigger is set over there.” She pointed toward the left.

“Wait.” Mollie moved in front of Selena. “What are the odds she expected a witch?”

Selena blinked. So did Ash, who grabbed her arm and kept her from moving forward. Selena scowled at Ash but spoke to Mollie. “What do you see, Mollie?”

Mollie shrugged, uncomfortable at being the center of so much attention. “I would think if she knew about Selena, she’d know you might call her or another witch in for help. So I’d set a trap for the person brought in to disable the trap.”

Then Mollie surprised them all. She straightened and stepped forward confidently, sparks dancing across her skin. Not one dropped to the ground. She headed straight for where Selena had pointed. “She might have expected Selena, but I doubt she’s prepared for me.”

Greer placed himself firmly at her side, earning a surprised glance from the fire elemental. “Don’t even think you’re going over there without me.”

Mollie shrugged, but Parker could hear the way her heart beat faster. “If you like.”

Parker shared a look with Amara. “You think she’s right?”

“I think I have no idea, but better safe than sorry.” Amara began to follow them.

“I have a better idea.” Dragos peered into the clearing. “What say we spring the trap?”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

Dragos grinned. “I never said you would be the one to spring it, now did I?”

“You might want to double-check with Mollie before you do that. If the thing she’s doing blows up in her face because you entered the grove, Greer will hunt your ass down, mayor or not.” Focused on the clearing, she missed the look that crossed Dragos’s face. The vampire’s beast was close to the surface. If Dragos didn’t do something soon to save his sotiei, the beast would take over, taking the choice out of his hands.

“Amara has a point. Let Mollie make sure the witch part of the trap is disabled before you go in there.”

“What about the wolves?”

Good question. “Noah?”

There was no answer. Parker tried to find the scent of the wolves, but the only thing he caught was the people around him and the forest itself.

“Well. So much for hunting with us.” Parker was ticked. Apparently Noah’s word wasn’t as good as he’d thought it was if he’d left them.

“Parker and I will go to the other side of the clearing.” Amara grabbed his arm. “Ash, Selena, you wait here. Selena, you’ll have to make sure Ash isn’t captured by the trap. Protect him. One dryad, one other, okay?”

Selena made a face, but Ash looked more than content with Amara’s decree. “And I’ll make sure the witch remains safe from everything else.” The silver sword tapped against his leg.

“I seriously need me one of those,” Amara muttered. She turned and started circling the clearing.

“Somehow I don’t think you do.” Parker floated next to her, keeping watch for anything out of the ordinary. The fact that Amara couldn’t see anything meant something could sneak up on her. He refused to allow anything to harm her.

“Why do you say that?” Amara gestured, and tree branches lifted, giving her clear passage through the forest to her destination.

“No reason.” A shiver of awareness drifted down Parker’s spine. “Shit.”

“Parker?”

“I have a bad feeling about this.” He was missing something, but what? What was it that was… “Oh shit.”

“What?”

“Mina.”

Amara whirled toward him. “What about Mina?”

“I can’t smell her.”

“So?”

Parker lifted his head and inhaled. He was right. Mina’s scent was missing. “Either Terri has become better at masking scent, or Mina isn’t here. And you know what else I’m not smelling?”

“What?” Amara was already racing back toward the group at full speed.

“Rotten vegetation.”

“Shit. Dragos, it’s a trap within a trap!”

But it was too late. The vampire had entered the clearing, and all hell broke loose. Thorny vines whipped up, impaling the mayor on all sides, ripping through clothing and flesh like they were tissue paper. Dragos screamed in rage as his beast took over, all human thought subsumed by the need for survival. He misted free of the vines, but they continued on, reaching toward him, flying up at the same rate Dragos did. Within seconds the vines were above the tree line, thrashing around like the arms of a leafy Kraken.

“No!” Amara stomped her foot and roared a challenge before wading into the mess.

“Amara!” Parker dashed forward, terrified that she’d set off the second half of the trap, the one meant to kill the dryads, and flew right into a cloud of pollen.

And down he fell, passing out within seconds as the pollen seeped into his pores.

Amara heard Parker’s cry but knew he’d be right behind her. There was no way Parker would stay out of this fight, not if she was in it. So she waded in, ripping vines from the earth, mashing them into pulp with her bare hands. Fire flared off to her right as Mollie entered the fray, vines dropping before her with scary rapidity. The controlled, flamethrower-like bursts sliced through the weeds, cauterizing the wounds. Then that fire raked the ground, burning out the roots until there was nothing left.

Dragos used his claws as scythes, cutting the weeds one by one. He screamed in rage, his beast completely in control. He bled from numerous cuts, but the flow was sluggish. Amara was terrified what he’d do once the battle ended. She hoped she wouldn’t have to battle the ancient when this was all over. He’d make a beeline for either one of the humanlike women, intent on feeding from them—or the Throne, intent on finding Mina.

Silver flashed; the dryads had entered the fray. The vines fell faster than they had on the roadway. Selena stood at the edge of the clearing, her feet braced apart, her eyes white, her markings glowing brightly. She chanted, low and lyrical, and everywhere her blind gaze fell, the vines did too, shrinking until they were nothing more than what they’d been before Terri had tampered with them.

“Parker!”

Mollie’s shout brought Amara’s attention back to her mate, who was calmly walking across the clearing, the weeds arching out of his way, not once touching his flesh.

Amara followed, swatting down any vines that got in her way. She had the sinking feeling that somehow Terri had gotten hold of him. There was a blank look on his face, one that petrified her. Parker never looked blank. Everything he felt was written on his features for the whole world to see, whether he meant them to or not. Even when his beast was in control, Parker’s eyes told anyone who looked how close to death they were. This sensation that he wasn’t in the driver’s seat horrified her. If he wasn’t in control of his body, he could do anything. Even kill. So Amara followed, not getting too close, and left the waning battle to her comrades. She told the trees to keep Ash and Greer aware of where she was headed.

Unless she missed her guess, she’d see Mina and Terri soon, and Ash and Greer would not be far behind.

Parker left the clearing, moving forward, but without that innate, catlike grace she’d come to associate with him. He didn’t even react when branches smacked him across the face, leaving behind numerous cuts and welts. He just kept moving onward.

Whatever Terri had done to him, Amara would see it reversed. She wanted her lover back.

She stayed out of his line of sight in case he had orders to attack anyone he saw. She didn’t want to fight him. She was scared stiff she’d injure him if it came to blows.

The wind changed, and suddenly she was no longer downwind of him. Parker stopped, swiveling his head to the right. He sniffed and shuddered, his body swaying back and forth.

That’s it. It’s me! C’mon, Parker, fight it!

The wind died down. Parker stopped shuddering. He resumed his path, his mind and beast once more asleep, once more moving at another’s command.

Damn it. Maybe if she got to where he could scent her, he’d be able to break free of the spell woven around him. This was magic at its blackest, taking the will of another and bending it to suit the purposes of the caster. If the white witches caught Terri, they’d bind her from doing harm ever again.

The black ones would try to compare notes.

Parker walked through a shimmering veil, and Amara almost gasped out loud. Abruptly it all made sense. The trap had been set to keep the other dryads from finding out where Mina was being held, where Terri was planning to make her final stand.

They were in the heart of the forest.

They were at the Throne of Oak.

Chapter Twelve

Amara followed Parker through the magical veil that usually guarded the grove. Terri would be aware of her presence, but there was no help for it. Amara wouldn’t be able to sense anything behind that veil without help. Greer and Ash would come as quickly as they could; here in the Throne they’d have far more power than Amara could begin to imagine.

Until they arrived, Amara and Parker were on their own.

“Parker,” a bubbling voice tried to croon. Amara grimaced. That…shambling, scabrous thing couldn’t be Terri, could it? It looked female, but all Amara could feel was rot.

Parker blinked. “Hello, sweet.”

Amara gritted her teeth. How dare he call that bitch sweet?

“Where’s Mina?”

Terri paused. “Mina?”

“Oak, Terri. Where’s Oak?”

Terri shrugged. “Her? Where she belongs, of course. In her tree.”

Amara darted a glance at the huge oak that dominated the grove and gasped. Mina hung spread-eagle from the branches of her oak. Her head was down, her limbs trembling with effort. Her feet brushed the top of the carved-stone throne that sat high on its roots. Lesser thrones sat before the Oaken Throne, one each for Greer, Ash and Iva.

Something writhed against Mina’s skin, and she wheezed. Amara bit back a horrified gasp when that something burrowed under Mina’s skin, twisting inside her like a giant parasite. The pain had to be excruciating. Blood trickled down her skin where the vines and thorns kept her pinned to her tree like a bug.

Mina’s gaze was dull and bloodshot. Crimson dotted her lips. She coughed once and winced. “’Bout time you got here, Amara.” Her voice was husky with fatigue and pain.

“We were delayed.” Amara stepped forward, knowing Terri would get a good, long look at her. “Hey, bitch. Did you know that’s my man you’re messing with?”

“He’s mine!” Terri shrieked. Weeds sprung up around Amara, trying to block her in. “I will kill you.”

“And my dog too?” Amara pushed at the weeds, startled at their strength. Fuck. Had Terri managed to gain control here? If she had, their chances of survival had dropped to nil.

Parker snorted. Apparently he was no longer under the witch’s control. “Really, Terri. Bad form. Let the women go, and we’ll have a nice chat, hmm?”

“Come here, Parker.” Terri wiggled her fingers in a come-hither gesture that was beyond obscene. Her stench invaded the grove, a poisonous perfume that dulled the senses.

“I don’t think so.” Parker took a step back, toward Amara.

Mina’s back arched. Her head flew back. She screamed, the sound full of petrified agony.

“I don’t think you understand. Come here, Parker.” Terri pointed toward the ground in front of her as Mina screamed and screamed. “Take your time. I can wait.”

A low growl came from him, but he put one foot in front of the other and stopped where Terri had pointed. Mina’s screaming dissolved into sobs.

Whatever Terri had done to Oak was bad, possibly fatal. Mina’s skin had taken on an ashen tone, and she shuddered with each labored breath she took. Amara hoped the witchdoctor would be able to fix Mina, or all hell would break loose. When Dragos saw Mina’s wounds, he would go ape-shit.

“Do you want them to suffer even more?” A parody of a smile crossed Terri’s lips and Mina groaned. “Feed from me, Parker. Feed from me, and the others may go free.”

“Even Amara?”

She drew in a sharp breath. He couldn’t possibly be thinking about drinking the swill running through Terri’s veins.

If he did, there wasn’t enough mouthwash in the world to get that taste out of his mouth.

“Even Amara. She won’t matter to you once the spell is complete. Our suffering will be over, Parker. We will be together forever.”

Parker leaned back and took a deep breath. “And Mina will be set down, unharmed?”

“I can’t promise she won’t be damaged. My friends can be enthusiastic when I give them a task.”

Amara shuddered, remembering the wicked weed that had tried to tunnel inside Parker. Amara rooted her feet into the earth, drew back her hand and slammed it into the weed with all her strength.

The weed bent.

Parker leaned back and took another breath so he could speak again. He was trying not to breathe in Terri’s overwhelming stench. “And what task did you give them?”

She drew back her hand and hit the weed.

There was the faintest cracking sound.

“I needed the forest pliant. This was the fastest way.” Terri ran her hands down Parker’s chest, and he trembled. “I have to admit, I’m enjoying the taste of power. It’s so deep and rich and dark. The things I could do with it are endless.”

Shit. Terri had tapped into Oak’s control over the forest. Amara drew her hand back a third time and gave the weed one more whack.

It broke. Amara was free.

“I don’t think so.”

Another weed sprang up where the broken one lay, covering it, making the base stronger than the first had been. She watched the new weed sink into the old, sucking it dry of what life was left in a matter of seconds.

“You didn’t think I’d give up that easily, did you?”

Amara looked up to find herself eye to eye with the witch. “Hello. You must be Terri.”

What remained of Terri’s eyebrows crookedly rose. “And you are?”

Amara reached deep into the earth, smiling at the response she got from the forest. The cavalry was on its way. “Let me think. You’re the bat-shit crazy bad guy.” Amara’s smile turned evil. “Guess that makes me the hero.”

Up from the earth sprang a huge rocklike formation that batted down the weeds like bugs and knocked both Terri and Amara off their feet.

Terri jumped to her feet faster than Amara. “How?”

Amara rose and punched the woman right in the nose, sending her sailing across the Throne. “It’s good to have friends.”

Terri howled, and her weeds answered, lifting from the ground and writhing around, but the ground rebelled against the invader. It heaved and moved in a quake that would have destroyed a lesser place.

The mountain did not like having Terri there and was showing her the best way it could, with a little help from Rock. The huge park ranger strode into view, batting weeds aside with massive fists. He’d called on the powers of his element, armoring himself against the thorns that tried to rip into his flesh. The deep, grating sound of stone grinding against stone accompanied him as he stomped across the Throne, decimating everything in his path. Almost half the wolf pack fought at his side, their claws and teeth ripping and tearing with deadly accuracy, their alpha at the front of the battle.

Rock and the wolves entered the fray, and leaving Amara free to concentrate her efforts on Terri. She took a brief moment to wonder where the rest of the wolves had disappeared to, but the mountain took her attention. She could barely stay on her feet.

Terri did her best to evade the flying debris the battle between the mountain and the weeds was throwing up, but both Amara and Terri found themselves pelted. Amara ignored the stinging bite of the rocks, her barklike skin absorbing the blows with ease. Terri, on the other hand, sprayed bits and pieces of herself all over the place, chunks falling off with each hit. She screeched with wrath, dancing around like a lunatic, trying to evade the rocks.

She completely missed seeing the hamadryad haymaker that once again sent her skidding across the Throne.

Terri hopped back to her feet with remarkable speed and flung out her hand, screaming in a strange language. A thin green light surrounded her hand; the witch was casting some sort of spell. Amara braced for whatever Terri was preparing to throw at her. From the hatred in Terri’s voice, she’d bet it was supposed to be lethal.

Arms circled Terri from behind. “Now, pretty, we wouldn’t want to do that, would we?”

Terri grasped Parker’s arm and jerked. “Get off!”

“That wasn’t what you were saying that night in the desert,” Parker cooed. “Don’t you remember how sweet it was?”

Terri stopped struggling. Her head tilted to the side, her eyes closed to half-mast. Her breaths came in short pants. Around her, the erupting earth died down as the forest itself seemed to listen to Parker’s crooned words. “I remember. I remember the night, the sound of the cicadas.”

“The strum of the guitar in the distance. You danced so beautifully.” Parker’s hand drifted down Terri’s mold-covered stomach to brush the dandelion growing beside her navel. “You were like a living flame. Remember? Remember how it was?”

Terri moaned, going lax in Parker’s arms. “I remember.”

“Do you remember the crackle of the wood as it burned in the bonfire? The sparks dancing from it, lighting the sky? The way the firelight danced across your skin, warming it, teasing it?” He swayed, taking Terri with him, dancing to a beat only the two of them could hear.

Amara was going to kick his ass when this was all over.

Parker wasn’t looking down at Terri anymore. He was looking beyond Amara, toward the wood. He nodded once and placed a soft kiss on the side of Terri’s neck. “Do you remember what it felt like to burn with passion?”

Terri shuddered. “Please, Parker.”

“Do you?”

“Yes! Please!” Terri’s head fell back against his shoulder. “Please love me.”

Parker’s eyes closed for a brief moment. When he opened them, they’d turned red. Hunting eyes. “No.”

His claws ripped through Terri’s stomach before he spun away, out of her reach. Terri bent over, gasping, stunned at the betrayal. “Parker!”

Mollie, fire sparkling along her skin, her hair a rippling sheet of flame, stepped next to Amara. She raised her hands, palms out, toward Terri. “Burn.”

The blast of heat knocked Amara back a step. It damn near scorched her. Terri shrieked, the flames engulfing her body, the weeds catching fire faster than Amara would have expected. Mollie kept the flame going, roasting the witch with her inner fire. She followed Terri around the Throne, careful to keep the fire from touching anything else within the grove other than the bits and pieces that had fallen off the witch in the rock blasts. What few sparks did land on the native greenery around the great Oak, Mollie swiftly reabsorbed, much to Amara’s shock. Fire was the hardest element to control, but Mollie appeared to be a master.

Terri was reduced to a smoldering pile, but Mollie kept the flame going. Across the funeral pyre from Mollie Selena chanted, cleansing the soul of the fallen witch even as Mollie’s fire cleansed the body. Soon nothing was left but a pile of ash. The markings on Selena’s face faded, Mollie’s fire slowly died and quiet once more entered the grove.

“You two okay?”

Selena snorted. “We weren’t the ones going toe-to-toe with her. Are you okay?”

Amara nodded, staring at the pile of ash, stunned it was finally over. “Ding-dong, the witch is dead.”

Selena sighed. “She was dead the moment her curse hit her. That wasn’t Terri—that was more of a construct, with the drive the curse gave her and a body that would never die. She would have chased Parker through eternity until he gave up, found his true sotiei and killed her, or something caused his death. Once Parker died, the curse would have released her body or, more likely, found someone new to focus on. The only thing I did was try to ensure she can’t get back up again.”

“Wow.” She couldn’t begin to imagine what Terri would have been like in a couple more centuries. Would she have had even the basic appearance of a human, or would she have been a shambling mass, unable to communicate but hell-bent on claiming her vampire? “Wait. She could get back up? Like a fucking phoenix?”

Mollie groaned and settled on the ground. “Thank the Goddess. I wasn’t happy about killing a person, no matter how badly they needed it. A thing, on the other hand? That I have no problems with.”

Selena sat next to the fire elemental and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Terri was long gone. I’m certain the spell she was trying to cast wouldn’t have worked. It requires a soul to do magic, and hers had long ago vacated the premises. I cleared out the curse, but that’s all I had to do.” She smiled up at Parker. “Any desire for vegetable juice now comes from the fact that your sotiei is a hamadryad. You’re clear.”

Parker smiled back. “Good to know. And thanks, Selena. Mollie.”

“You’re welcome.” Selena nudged Mollie.

Mollie grimaced and muttered, “No problem.”

Dragos landed in front of the women. “Are you all right, ladies?” His eyes glowed red, and his accent was suspiciously thick, but otherwise he seemed to have himself under perfect control.

Selena and Mollie nodded. “Check on Mina.”

He stared at the Oak, and his body went rigid. No matter the language, a curse was recognizable, and Dragos was letting them fly as he viewed what had been done to his sotiei. From the shocked look on Selena’s face, she knew exactly what Dragos was saying.

Dragos flew to the Oak and began freeing an unconscious Mina from her bindings. Odds were good the queen of the wood would find herself in Dragos’s bed before the night was over.

“She had one of Terri’s burrowing weeds inside her. It was how Terri was so much stronger here. She used that connection to siphon off Mina’s powers and torture her at the same time.”

“Ouch. I’d better take a look before Dragos drags her off.” Selena struggled to her feet, jumping when Ash suddenly appeared before her. He grabbed her arm and helped her to her feet. “I’m fine, Mr. Ward. I’ve been hauling my ass off the ground all by myself for years.”

Ash didn’t reply. He kept hold of Selena’s arm and escorted her to Dragos and Mina, his expression grim. It didn’t take long for the witchdoctor to pronounce Mina healed, but when she was done, a fine sheen of sweat dotted her forehead and her hands were shaking. Dragos lifted the unconscious Mina into his arms and flew off before anyone could protest.

Amara studied the pile of ash closely. “You said she might come back. Are you sure?”

Selena shrugged wearily. “Who knows? But to be certain she doesn’t, I’d scatter those ashes as far and wide as possible. Either that or dump them in the deepest ocean in a sealed container that won’t rot.”

“A very tiny container.” Parker held his finger and thumb barely a millimeter apart. “Lots of tiny, sealed, nonrotting containers.”

“So we have a shopping trip in our future? Great.” Greer plopped down next to Mollie. Mollie blinked at him, her eyes drooping. “Will Mina truly be all right?”

Selena stroked Greer’s arm, much to Ash’s annoyance. “Yes. Dragos will take care of her.”

“Where the fuck is Iva? Mina could have taken that bitch if only Iva were here!” Greer tugged on his hair and blew out an aggravated breath.

“Who’s Iva?”

Amara answered, “Iva Yamauchi. She’s Yew.”

“Ah. And she’s missing?”

“She’s been missing for almost six weeks now.”

“It’s why it took us so long to realize what Terri was up to. Without Iva, our powers are diminished.” Greer ran a hand through his pale hair. “I only wish I knew where the hell she is.” Greer jumped as Mollie crashed against his side. She’d passed out, her lips pale, her skin an alarming shade of gray. “Selena!”

“No. You’re too tired.” Ash tried to prevent Selena from helping Mollie, without much luck.

Greer looked up at Ash. “Please.”

Ash grimaced but loosened his hold on Selena. “I’m taking her straight home after this.”

Whose? Amara didn’t have the courage to ask.

Selena examined Mollie. “She’s exhausted, her flames low. Find a nice warm place for her to rest, like in front of a roaring fire, and she’ll be fine in no time.”

Greer lifted Mollie into his arms with ease. It was like she weighed nothing. “Thank you.” He nodded his thanks to Ash as well. “And thank you.”

“Like he has any say in who I help,” Selena grumbled. “I’m going home, people. It’s been swell, yet not.” Selena marched off toward the woods. “Where the hell did I park my broom?”

Ash shook his head, his lips curling in a smile. “Do me a favor, Amara? Get that dust contained. I have a witch to corral.” Ash took off after Selena at a jog. “Over here,” she heard him call out.

Parker looked at Amara. “It looks like it’s just the two of us, sweet.”

Amara glared back. “Yup. Just you, me and the charred remains of your ex-girlfriend. Sweet.”

Parker coughed. “I was trying to keep her from killing anyone.”

Amara shook her finger. “If you ever call anyone else sweet but me, you’ll have splinters in places people should never, ever get them except in freak lumberjack accidents. Got it?”

Parker’s eyes widened with alarm. “Got it.”

“Good.” She poked her toe into the pile of ash. “How the hell are we going to clean up this mess?”

“Those lovely little sandwich bags that zipper shut?”

Amara loved the fact that her mate didn’t fear her. It was so refreshing to joke with someone who didn’t think she was strange, even while covered in bark and standing three feet taller. She closed her eyes and shook her head. “And you happen to have some on you? Maybe in the pocket of your jeans?” Because they certainly weren’t in the pocket of hers. She’d have to be wearing some first.

He studied the ash and draped his arm across her shoulders. He leered at her. “Fancy a trip to Sav-A-Lot?”

Amara groaned and hid her eyes. He might wind up with those splinters after all.

They pulled up to the house, dirty, tired and exhausted. Amara looked ready to collapse, her eyes closed, her head resting on the back of the seat. Thankfully there hadn’t been much traffic on the way home; Amara had ripped through her clothes and was dressed once more in nothing but Parker’s shirt.

Parker found he couldn’t complain about that.

“We’re home, sweet.”

Amara’s eyes drifted open. Her lips curled. “And our passenger?”

Parker glanced in the backseat at the multiple jars of ash resting within a cardboard box. He’d done exactly what he’d said he would, flying to the Sav-A-Lot and cleaning out their jam and jelly jars. In the end Amara had been worried Terri would break free of simple sandwich bags, and he’d been forced to agree.

They’d have to come up with a more permanent solution, but for now he was certain this would do. He’d carry Terri into the house and ask Greg to keep an eye on her.

“So far so good. Let’s get inside, all three of us.”

Her smile turned wicked. “And then I think it’s time we took care of something, don’t you?”

His brows rose.

Amara slid out of the jeep, his shirt riding up until he could see the edge of her ass. Suddenly Parker was feeling hungry, and not for blood. “Sweet?”

“Hmm?”

He gulped at the sultry look she shot him. “Bloody hell.”

“Grab our unwanted guest and put her somewhere safe, then meet me in the backyard.”

The back… Oh. Oh. Parker whirled past Amara, Terri’s remains in his arms. He barely blinked at the half-naked Renfield lying on Amara’s couch. He put the box of jars on the coffee table.

“Wha?” Brian, heavy-lidded, an erection tenting his jeans, struggled to sit up.

“Watch her. I have a mate to claim.”

Parker dashed out before Brian or Greg could protest, but he made a mental note to let Amara know that now both their couches would require cleaning.

A vision of bending Amara over the arm of her couch drifted through his mind. Better yet, have Greg and Brian live in my house while I live in Amara’s. Then they could make love on their couch instead of his. Oh yeah. That could… Holy. Shit.

Parker stopped so abruptly he almost stumbled. Amara knelt naked at the base of her tree, her hands pressed against the trunk, her face lifted to the sky. Her knees were spread, her breasts and pussy marvelously displayed, dappled with moonlight through leaves. She looked so stunning, so ethereal, he was almost afraid to approach her.

A mysterious smile graced her lips as her eyes opened, the green glittering in the night. Parker took a step forward, drawn by her unearthly sensuality, once more stunned by the fact that he’d been so lucky to win Amara as his sotiei.

He took his clothes off, his gaze never leaving hers, until he stood naked before her.

“Come here.”

Her voice had that low, gravelly tone he’d come to associate with her hamadryad form. Her gaze drifted down to his cock, and she licked her lips. His cock twitched, eager to feel her wrapped around him in whatever way she wished.

He obeyed her command, stepping closer and closer until his cock nudged her lips open. She took him inside and looked up at him, her body still, her tongue teasing his slit.

It was only then that Parker realized her hands weren’t on the tree’s trunk; they were in it. She’d partially joined with her tree, binding herself with her will, allowing him to take the lead. It wasn’t submission that had her, kneeling for him that way. He understood that this was the dryad’s way of claiming him, making him hers the way he had made her his in that parking lot. He’d bet that when she was ready, she’d be able to move, sliding her hands through the trunk of her tree like he would glide through water.

He began a careful, steady rhythm, unwilling to harm his blood wife in any way. Without her hands, she couldn’t control his thrusts, so it was up to him to ensure he didn’t go too deep. This wasn’t about pain or submission or even the need to mate.

This was about love.

Amara moaned, the vibrations rocketing through his cock and dancing in his belly. “Take me, Amara. Make me yours.”

She went wild beneath him, bobbing her head up and down his length. The suction of her mouth had him rock hard in seconds. If he’d been human, he would have been sweating bullets and coming down her throat.

But he wasn’t human, and he had no intention of coming that easily. He would come only when he was buried balls-deep in her hot pussy, and only after he’d tasted her pleasure at least once.

He pulled her off his cock with no small amount of regret. Amara’s mouth was a work of art, and his cock was mighty unhappy with him for making it leave. “Stand up. Back against the trunk.”

She smirked and stood slowly, brushing her body against his wherever possible.

Parker didn’t waste any time. He took one of her nipples in his mouth and sucked, desperate to hear her moans and sighs. He wasn’t disappointed. It wasn’t long before she was writhing against the rough bark. He was tempted once again to see if he could make her come just by sucking on her nipples, but he was too eager for the taste of sweetness between her legs. He released her nipple with a pop and dropped to his knees. “My turn.”

He took hold of her thighs and spread them wide. When she was open and ready for him, he dived in, licking as much of her pussy as he could reach. He wanted to taste every part of her, stroke her with his tongue until she was begging him never to stop. Amara’s head landed against the tree with an audible thump as she ground her hips against his face. Above him, the leaves of Amara’s tree rustled. He wondered what, if anything, the tree was experiencing.

She was moaning, her back arched, her hair tangled in the bark. The sight of his dryad like this would be burned in his memory forever. When she quivered and came, he knew he’d be repeating this as often as she’d let him.

He lifted his mouth from her and smiled. “More?”

That gorgeous face was relaxed, but her body told a different story. Her nipples were pointed, begging for his mouth. Her hips rocked; she was eager to feel him inside her. “Mmm.”

“How many hands need to be in that tree?”

She lifted one out and curled it around his head. She drew him up for a long, lingering kiss. “Well?”

He smiled. “Wait here.”

Her jaw dropped. “Um. Parker?”

He walked away from her, his erection throbbing, to grab a bench he’d seen on his first trip through the garden. It was the perfect height for what he wanted. He’d lay his dryad down on it, one hand in that tree, one hand on him, and take her any way they wanted.

She took one look at the bench and grinned. “What happened to me spread-eagle, hands pressed against bark, while you took me from behind and fed from me?”

He put the bench near enough for her to reach the tree easily with either hand. It would be close. Odds were good one of them would have splinters by the time they were finished. But it would be worth it. “Next time.”

She didn’t deny there would be a next time. She eyed the bench. “Lie down.”

Well. He hadn’t anticipated that request. “I thought I’d have you lie down.” He ran his hands through her wet curls. His fingers dipped inside her pussy. “I’m not done tasting this yet.”

She shuddered.

“Lie down on the bench, Amara.”

Amara obeyed, her legs on either side of the bench, her hair falling around her. She looked like a goddess, all spread out for him, bathed in moonlight and shadow. He knelt, ready to worship her, pay homage to the beauty he’d treasure for the rest of his life.

The man’s tongue should have been registered as a lethal weapon, because he was going to kill her with it. He dipped it inside her, swirled around her clit, loved her pussy with long, strong strokes until she thought she’d scream. Or kill him. Scream and kill him unless he made her come. He was taking his time, doing his savoring thing that made her want to howl and take what she wanted.

He did that swirly thing with his tongue again, and Amara gasped, her body throbbing with need. She thrust her hips at him, hoping he’d take the hint, but he moved his tongue, darting inside her, fucking her endlessly while his thumb barely stroked over her aching clit.

She would stop him any second now. Drop his ass on the bench and see how he liked being teased and tormented. Then she might… Oh. Oh. “Right there, Parker.” She grabbed his head with her free hand and held him in place. Goddess, she was so close she was whirling. “Don’t stop. Please Goddess, don’t stop.”

“Never. I’ll never stop loving you.”

This time Parker took the hint, giving her what she needed, driving her over the edge until she had to bite her lip to keep from screaming his name.

Above her, her tree shivered, hard.

She smiled as she came down from the orgasm he’d tormented her into. Maybe torture isn’t so bad after all. “Do that again.”

His brows rose. “Are you sure? I’d rather not find myself dead, you know.” He ran his fingers along her pussy. “However, if you’re of a mind to throw me down on the bench and have your wicked way with me, far be it from me to object.”

While she really wanted him inside her, the thought of being licked to death by her vampire had its own merits.

“Oh shit.” He’d darted down for another taste. He lingered over her clit, bringing her body back to shuddering life. She grabbed on to his hair once more. “Parker. Please.”

His eyes bled slowly to red as her vampire began feasting on her once more. It was like he couldn’t get enough of her, and she loved every fucking minute of it.

It took even longer this time to come, but when she did, the bench moved with the force of her orgasm. She shook, shimmied and damn near ripped her lover’s hair out. If she hadn’t been connected to her tree, she would have been on the verge of passing out, it was so fucking good.

When she’d caught her breath, she realized Parker was still playing with her pussy. He kept the need alive, touching and stroking, making her eager for one final round.

No. It’s time.

Amara sat up, ignoring Parker’s pout. She smiled. “Move the bench.” She showed him how she wanted it, nodding when he had it right. “Now lie down, head toward the tree. It’s my turn.”

Parker did as he was told, lying on his back; his dark curls brushed the bark, mixing with it perfectly. Amara slid over him, both hands resting on the tree, sinking inside, making that connection that would bind them all together for eternity. “Come inside, Parker.”

Parker took hold of her hips and guided her until his cock slid inside her, hard and throbbing and all hers.

“Love you, Parker. Forever.”

“Forever, love.” He began to move, thrusting into her in staccato bursts that did nothing but tantalize.

“You’re in the mood to tease me, huh?” Amara swiveled her hips. She rocked over him, her breasts dangling inches from his mouth, and watched his fangs descend. “Want a taste?”

He licked his lips, his gaze on her nipples.

“Go ahead. Take what you want. Take me.”

He buried his face between her breasts and groaned. She felt the sharp sting of his teeth as he bit into the fleshy part of her breast, sinking into her body and soul. He fed from her there, near her heart, and the sensation was more than she could bear. She came on a throaty moan, her head back, her muscles clenching tight around him. He felt so good inside her, so right.

He licked the wound closed, and she knew he hadn’t gotten enough, that he wasn’t done with her yet. “I told Rock you wouldn’t be in for a few days.”

“Oh?” Amara clenched her muscles, smiling when Parker flinched, his rhythm momentarily broken. Thank you, Dr. Kegel. “I just went back to work.”

He toyed with her nipples and licked a drop of blood from his lip. “I don’t think you’ll want to go when you can barely walk.”

“Planning on draining me dry?”

He moved his hands to her ass and spread her cheeks wide. “I plan on filling you up.”

Oh?

One of his fingers toyed with her anus.

Oh. “No lube.”

“No problem.” Something flew through the air, and it was her turn to flinch. He held up the tube of lube. “Guess what else I got at the Sav-A-Lot besides vast quantities of canning jars?”

She couldn’t help it. She laughed. “I love a man who comes prepared.”

“How about a man who’s prepared to come?”

“Even better.”

“Do you trust me?”

She didn’t even hesitate. “Yes.”

He grinned, and the bottle snicked open. He was lubing up his fingers. “Keep fucking me, sweet.”

She began riding him again, the hot length of him gliding in and out of her. When she felt the press of his fingers in her ass, she opened up to him, letting him inside. She rode his cock and his fingers, feeling doubly full.

“Come down here, love.” Parker eyed her throat, and she knew it was time, knew they would finish it now. She doubted Parker had any clue what was going to happen next. She’d found the courage to ask one of the town’s bonded dryads what to do, and the woman had given her an earful.

Above her, leaves rustled, limbs quivered and her tree prepared itself for not one, but two souls.

She bent over him, offering her neck, her love, her life. He bit down, drinking deep of all she gave him, giving his back to her, filling her with his cock, his seed and a love that would never die.

The tree struck just as the orgasm ripped through them, using their joined bodies to take Parker in, make him theirs, sharing in their pleasure, their love. It was so intense Amara’s vision turned black.

They screamed as they came.

Parker lifted his head off the bench and wasn’t surprised to find Amara draped bonelessly over him. He felt the heartbeat of the tree behind him, slow and steady. “Fuck me.”

“Too late. Been there, done that, tore through the T-shirt.”

He snorted. She was barely awake, the words scarcely audible against his skin, but she managed to be a smart-ass. “What the bloody hell was that?”

“I told you we’d take you, make you ours.”

He flexed his ass, accidentally jostling her. “Do I have splinters?”

She sighed.

“You’ll have to check for me. I can’t picture myself in the bathroom, hand mirror at the ready, checking out my ass. I mean, I’m pretty, but I’m not that pretty.”

“Parker.”

“Well, I’ve never been fucked by a tree before.” He sniffed. “I didn’t think the splinters in strange places threat was meant literally.”

She giggled.

“And no way in hell am I asking Brian to check it out for me. He might get ideas. Then Greg might get ideas, and where would that leave you?”

She smacked his chest, hard.

“Ow.”

“Would you shut up and let me bask in the afterglow?”

Parker chuckled and closed his eyes. He ran his hands down her soft skin. Nothing, not even his lame jokes, could take her away from him. “Love you.”

“Love you too.” A kiss brushed his nipple.

Parker opened his eyes and smiled up into the branches of Amara’s tree. He felt the tree’s approval, knew it had shared in their love for each other. Strangely enough, he wasn’t freaked by this. Maybe if he’d met Amara before the curse, he would have been less open to the possibility. He’d never know, and he wouldn’t change a thing.

His gaze drifted over Amara’s—soon to be their—house. He scowled. “Shit.”

“What?”

“Brian and Greg.”

“What about them?”

“They broke out the popcorn.”

It took her a second to realize what he meant, but all of a sudden he found himself alone, naked under a tree, sans his warm and cuddly dryad. From inside the house, the sounds of screeching and thrown crockery told their own story. He hoped his Renfield survived Amara’s naked wrath.

He returned his gaze to the branches of the tree, letting the feeling return to his legs before he attempted to go back to the house. “So. Looks like it’s just you and me. You come here often?”

He felt the tree’s laughter, heard it in the creaking of its branches.

It was good to be home.

Epilogue

Parker watched Amara glide across the dance floor in the arms of another man and smiled. Greer was one of the best dancers Parker had ever seen. He moved gracefully around the room in a waltz that left most of those around the pair in their dust. The fact that the blond dryad couldn’t take his eyes off Mollie, draped in a shimmering red-and-gold goddess gown, let Parker’s beast know the man wasn’t a threat to his relationship with Amara. Despite bonding with Amara’s tree in the deepest sense possible without drilling holes and inviting splinters in sensitive places, Parker was still a possessive man when it came to his love. Almost everyone else who’d approached his blood wife to ask for a dance had met with a very pointed smile and a shake of his head before the question could even be asked. Only Dragos, Greer, Brian and Ash had been allowed to take his sotiei’s hand and lead her onto the dance floor. Call him old-fashioned, but he had no desire to lose his wife, and once upon a time stealing mates had been a sport among the bloody-fanged set. Amara, amused by the whole thing, had complied with his wishes and restricted her dance partners.

She was having the time of her life at Dragos’s party. So far most of the town members had made a point of approaching her. The reunion with the Madison family had been particularly intense. Amara hadn’t wanted an apology; she’d wanted her friends back. Parker figured with a bit of time she’d get her wish, and they’d all be able to mourn Ken together. His Amara was generous with her heart, despite everything she’d been through. By the time she was done, the Madisons wouldn’t know what hit them.

If some of the townsfolk approached Amara warily, they had good reason. She was amazing, powerful and beautiful and deadly beyond compare. And she was all his.

And much to Greg’s utter disgust, he wasn’t getting tired of saying it. His his his. He grinned like a kid with a fistful of free candy.

His.

He had to resist the urge to pinch himself. The time of terror was over. No longer would Terri haunt him, in or out of his nightmares. The witch was dead, her ashes scattered, the lingering traces of her wiped away from the Throne through fire and magic. Mina, weakened but whole, had been returned to her tree by Dragos, who refused to discuss what had occurred between them. Apparently things hadn’t gone quite the way Dragos had planned, because the mayor had been growling and sullen for weeks.

At least Kate was conspicuous in her absence. The whispers of relief when she hadn’t appeared on Dragos’s arm at the start of the party had been proof positive no one, not even the other witches, liked Kate. They liked her even less when she was with Dragos.

Ash stalked by Parker’s hiding spot, arguing fiercely with Selena. She was shaking her head, denying him a dance, and Ash was getting more and more agitated. He figured at some point Ash would lift the woman onto his shoulder and haul her onto the dance floor.

He wondered what Selena would do if he dared.

“Mr. Hollis.”

Parker, brave predator that he was, let out a squawk. How had she sneaked up on him? Now he had an idea of how Amara felt. “Mollie.” He answered her slow smile. “It’s good to see you looking well again. You had us all worried.”

She grimaced. “Sorry about that. When I use that level of control, it tires me out more easily. I didn’t even realize how low my flames had gone until I woke up in front of a fire, covered in about fifteen thousand furs with a shaking dryad trying to spoon hot soup into me.”

Parker laughed. The image in his head was just too rich. He’d have to rib Greer over it later.

“Don’t you dare laugh. He spilled it all over me.”

That only made him laugh harder.

“Try explaining second-degree burns all over your breasts to the emergency-room physician while Greer knocks everything over in an attempt to help.” She rolled her eyes. “It was the worst trip I’ve ever taken. And I had to do it naked because he lost my clothes. Hmph. And that doctor was cute too.”

Parker laughed so hard he began wheezing. She blew a curl off her forehead. “Well. Back to work Monday?”

He nodded, still laughing as Carter Hayes appeared. “What’s so funny?”

Mollie batted her eyes at the were. “Hi, Carter.”

“Hey, Mollie. You look lovely. Care to dance?”

“I’d love to. I’ll see you later, Mr. Hollis.”

“At this point I think you can call me Parker.”

She grinned, not a trace left of the uptight, nervous woman he’d first started working for. “Thanks.”

“Later, Mollie.”

Parker watched as the two went hand in hand to the dance floor. Greer, watching them, smirked. What…?

“OW!” Carter was scrambling at something in his lapel. “What the fuck?” He pulled the boutonniere off and glared at the huge, bloody thorn. “How the hell did that happen?” His gaze darted to the pale-haired dryad waltzing with Amara and trying not to laugh. “Greer,” he snarled. The boutonniere went sailing right into the back of Greer’s head.

Mollie was trying to soothe the werewolf, but it wasn’t working.

“What?” The dryad waltzed Amara closer to the other couple. “Did I hear my name?”

Greer stumbled, landing right against Carter. Carter howled again and began hopping, his foot in his hand.

“Sorry, sorry. Here, let me help you…”

Parker stopped watching. Greer was a fucking Fred Astaire in Amara’s arms. But he turned his so-called klutzy ways into a weapon to annoy anyone he didn’t like, and he really didn’t like Carter.

Carter would hurt a lot more before the night was over. He bit his lip and contemplated removing Amara from the mix, but when she “accidentally” ripped Carter’s pants off, he turned away before his laughter got the better of him.

“Hey, Parker.”

“Hi, boss. Having a good time?” Brian huffed out a surprised laugh. “Where are Carter’s pants?”

“Last I saw somewhere around his ankles. And yes, I’m having a marvelous time. You?”

Brian’s arm was around Greg’s waist. It was odd, but Parker was becoming used to it. He even thought he saw a shimmer of mist where his friend stood, which was an improvement. Selena had said that given enough time, he’d be able to see Greg once in a while as a fully formed apparition. Time Parker was more than happy to spend with the ghost. “We just got off the dance floor. Who knew Greer could move like that?”

“Who indeed.”

Mollie stormed past Parker, her cheeks bright red and her eyes flashing angrily. It was all he could do not to laugh in her face.

Brian snickered into his fist. “Something tells me Greer isn’t happy with her choice of dance partner.”

“You think?”

Brian looked toward Greg and took a deep breath. “We wanted to talk to you about something.”

Brian’s tone was serious and more than a little nervous. “You can tell me anything but who likes what done to them. That I really don’t want to know. I also don’t want to know why I sat at my kitchen table and had to remove a bottle of lube from my fruit bowl.” He sniffed. “One I hadn’t put there, mind you.”

“Homophobe.”

“Perv.”

Brian shook his head. He was becoming used to his unusual new family, and Parker couldn’t be happier about it. “Greg and I want to get married.”

Parker blinked. “Is that legal in Maryland?”

“Dude. I’m pretty sure necrophilia is illegal in all fifty-two states.”

If he could have blushed, he would have. “I meant male-male marriage. Pillock.”

“I’m dead. Legal has nothing to do with it.”

“We want to share our love, and no perv jokes, okay?” Brian looked nervous. “I guess we want your permission. You’re the closest thing to family Greg has. It would mean a lot to both of us to know you approved.”

Parker choked, touched that they’d ask him. “You don’t need my permission, but you have my blessing.” He shook his finger at Greg’s amorphous form. Was it Maggie’s Grove that had lent him that extra bit of strength, or was it the ghost’s bond to his lover? “I’d damn well better be your best man.”

“Wouldn’t want anyone else.”

Parker hugged Brian. “Congratulations, Greg.” He gave Brian his best sad face. “My condolences. Now you’ll be stuck with him forever. Almost like a hemorrhoid.”

“Don’t make me tell the Great Cactus Story of ’69.”

Brian was about to burst into laughter at any moment. “Do I want to know?”

“Yes.”

“No.” Parker glared at where he assumed Greg was. “I will so dump your ashes in the Atlantic and make you late for your own wedding.” He turned back to Brian. “Seriously. Where do you want to hold the ceremony, and who do you want to officiate?”

Brian’s shy look was bloody endearing. “We haven’t worked out all of the details yet. He asked me last night.”

“Oh. That explains all the moaning and thumping.”

Brian was horrified. “You heard that?”

Parker hadn’t heard a thing. He’d been too busy making love to Amara. A monkey could have been banging on his head with a coconut and he wouldn’t have cared. “Oh yes. It sounded like you had quite the time.”

Brian, wide-eyed, turned and began walking away. “Tell me about the cactus thing.”

“Don’t you dare, Greg!” Parker started to scramble after the pair but was brought up short by a hand on his arm. A very strong hand. “Can I help you?”

Noah Wulfenbach’s teeth were clenched. “I’m here to apologize.”

Parker shook free of the werewolf’s grasp. “Where did you go the other night? One moment you were racing along behind us, the next you were gone.” Most of the pack had returned, but enough hadn’t that Parker was pissed.

Noah grumbled, low and full of discontent. “One of ours was taken.”

Parker relaxed, some of his anger drifting away. “Bloody hell. Is he all right?”

“He’s missing. One of my strongest too.” Noah leaned back against a convenient pillar and shoved his hands into his tuxedo’s pockets. “We can’t find a damn trace of him.”

“Shit.” Parker rubbed his chin. “You think this has anything to do with Iva going missing?” The dryads were still looking but hadn’t found a trace of her yet.

Noah twitched. “Possibly. No one asked my opinion before. How long has she been gone, and why haven’t they said anything?”

“Is it your beta who’s missing?” Parker shot back.

“No. One of my enforcers.”

Parker’s eyes widened, and he whistled softly. “Damn. An enforcer would be tough to take down.”

“Which is why I think it was more than one person who did it.”

“Hell.” He looked around, but he could no longer see Greer or Ash. “Greer and Ash need to know about this.”

“I know your loyalty is to the dryads, but—” Noah sighed, “—we could use your, and Amara’s, help.”

He didn’t even have to think about it. “Of course.”

Noah straightened slowly, removing his hands from the pockets of his tux. “That’s it? You’ll help me? No making me grovel? No asking for favors?”

“You’ll grovel all right, but onstage, and to my wife. Other than that? We agreed that once you did, all would be forgiven. And if two of our people are missing, who else could get taken? Amara? Brian? Even Greg?” Parker shook his head. “I think we need to talk to Mina, Dragos and Selena, get their take on this as well.”

Noah nodded. He clapped Parker’s shoulder, and if he hadn’t been a vampire, he would have been driven to his knees at the force of it. “You’re good people, Parker Hollis.”

“Wonderful.” Parker tried not to wheeze, but he was pretty sure his elbow was somewhere down by his knee. Actually it would be difficult not to wheeze, considering his lung was folded in half. He straightened as best he could once Noah lifted his hand. “Where is Amara? It’s about time for your apology, I believe.”

Noah winced, but he followed Parker toward the stage.

“Amara, sweet?”

“Hmm?”

“Noah is here and needs to talk to you.”

“He doesn’t have to do this, Parker.”

Parker had made a pact, and by damn the alpha would stick to it. “Yes, he does. It’s a man thing. You wouldn’t understand.”

“Uh-huh. Where should I meet you?”

“By the stage, sweet.”

“On my way.”

“Everything ready?” Dragos, looking both suave and surly, appeared at his elbow. He grunted hello at Noah, who grunted back.

“Yes. And we need to have a powwow when this is over. It seems one of Noah’s enforcers has gone missing. It’s possible the same person may have Iva Yamauchi.”

“Yew?” That seemed to snap Dragos out of his self-imposed pity party. “You think they’ve been kidnapped?”

Noah glanced up at the stage as the music came to an end. “There’s my cue. We’ll finish this discussion later.”

“Come on, big guy. A few simple words and this will all be over.” Parker followed Noah onstage but stood back, letting him be the center of attention.

Noah stepped up to the edge and took a deep breath. The crowd turned quiet, waiting for Noah to speak. They all knew what was coming. Some were anticipating it with glee, others with dread. For some reason Parker didn’t think the alpha would take out his embarrassment on his pack; the man, for all he could be an arrogant jerk, had bone-deep integrity and a sincere desire to protect what was his.

Noah’s gaze raked the throng. “Two weeks ago my pack hunted an innocent woman.”

There were murmurs of disbelief, mostly from those who, despite evidence to the contrary and testimony from witnesses, still believed Amara was responsible for the deaths. Those voices were few, but Parker knew who each one belonged to.

He’d already visited a few of their dreams. He’d warned them, after all.

“We learned the hard way that you do not go after a dryad in her woods, especially a hamadryad.”

Most of the crowd laughed at that, some darting sly glances at Amara, others nodding in either understanding or approval.

“Yet she did nothing that would cause us permanent harm. She taught us a lesson and nothing more. And when we learned she was not the one responsible for the tragedy that occurred here, we realized some form of reparation would have to be made.”

Parker’s brows rose. This wasn’t what he’d expected Noah to say. “At first I thought that reparation would be monetary or perhaps a favor owed.”

Not uncommon payment in the supernatural community, but Parker had been after something far more precious than gold.

“Imagine my surprise when I was informed the price of forgiveness would be a public apology.” Noah was growling at the end. Some in the audience laughed, but most backed up a step. Parker noted that all those who laughed appeared to be pack.

What is he up to?

“Everyone knows I don’t apologize. Ever. I haven’t since I became my father’s beta, and I certainly haven’t since I became alpha.” He bowed his head and stared at his hands for a moment before looking back over the partygoers. “But today I offer one to Amara Schwedler-Hollis, mate of Parker Hollis, wrongfully accused of causing the deaths of two people and hunted by my pack for crimes she didn’t commit. I would defend our actions, except they were made in the heat of the moment and without proper knowledge of who the true culprit was. The fact that we thought we were protecting our mates, our cubs and our town should have no bearing on this. That, I have discovered, is no excuse for what we tried to do. The death toll, had we succeeded, would have been three innocent lives and the knowledge we would never again be allowed to roam freely within our beloved forest.

“For that reason—because the life we tried to take was an innocent one and because we were wrong—I offer this apology to Amara in all sincerity and with the full backing of my pack.”

And one by one, the pack walked onstage and stood behind their alpha, offering their silent support and their own unique form of apology.

Amara joined the wolves on the stage, her green gown floating around her legs, her brilliant curls pinned neatly to the top of her head. Parker had every intention of taking each and every pin out and watching those curls tumble about her head before he stripped that floaty gown from her body and tasted every inch of her skin.

He might even wait until they got home. This was an awfully big house. Dragos wouldn’t mind him borrowing a bit of it.

Amara stopped in front of Noah and bowed. “I accept the apology of the alpha and his pack. I also accept that you thought you were defending your people and your town.” She winked at Noah and grinned broadly. “I can understand the need to defend. Consider this over and done and your safe passage through the forest renewed with the blessing of Oak, Ash and Birch.”

The three ruling dryads bowed regally to Noah. They’d managed to get right up to the stage in time to hear Amara’s pronouncement and confirm it.

“We need to talk to them about Iva when this is done, my sweet.”

“We do?”

“Yes.”

“Crap. More trouble?”

“Yes. One of Noah’s enforcers has been taken. It could be connected to Iva’s disappearance.”

Amara took a deep breath, but she held out her hand and forearm for the alpha to clasp.

Noah took it, his big paw swallowing her slender arm. The crowd cheered the two, including one very enthusiastic witch who’d managed to sneak her broom in and was currently doing loop-de-loops around Dragos’s chandelier.

Noah looked at his pack and nodded once. They headed for their mates or partners of the evening, leaving Noah, Parker and Amara alone on the stage. The musicians struck up a lively tune, and Amara, laughing, dragged Noah into the gyrating crowd, proving once and for all that everything was forgiven and forgotten.

“Well. Dismissed.” Parker looked up at the witch in the chandelier. “I wonder if she’d like to dance.”

“Parker? What have I told you about the crazy?”

Parker laughed. “Fine. I’ll see if I can drag my wife away from the furry set.”

Parker stepped up behind the big alpha and tapped him on the shoulder. “May I cut in?”

Noah moved back, allowing Parker to take Amara into his arms, right where she belonged. “Enjoying yourself, sweet?”

She draped her arms around his neck. “Mm-hmm.” Her head lowered until it rested on his chest, her curls tickling his nose. “But now it’s better.”

Parker breathed in her scent and damn near fell over. She smelled wet and warm, inviting him into her. “Hold still, sweet. I’m about to take you on a ride.”

He reached out with his mind and traced her nipples with imaginary fingers before she could protest.

Amara gulped. “Oh hell.” She clenched her fingers in his hair and tightened them to the point of pain. “Here?”

“Think you can be quiet?”

“Are you kidding me? Take me home, Pa-Parker. Oh Goddess. Parker.”

He’d slid one of his “hands” down to the wet cleft between her thighs. He stroked her clit, eager to see her passion, to let everyone in this room know exactly who she belonged to. “You’re going to come for me, sweet. Right here, right now.”

She growled up at him, her eyes glowing bright green. “I don’t think so.”

Parker didn’t have time to react. He found himself slung over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes, his fingers dangling dangerously close to the ground. “Um. Amara?” He didn’t know whether to laugh or mist away, embarrassed beyond belief.

“Excuse me, please. I have to take my husband home.”

“Is he sick?”

Oh dear Goddess. Selena touched his hip. He wasn’t surprised when her hand was abruptly lifted.

“He’s fine, Selena. He just needs to go home now.”

“Oh.”

He could hear the laughter in the woman’s voice and knew this would take him decades to live down. However, he could forgive a lot. Amara had called him her husband for the first time. That alone warranted his cooperation. “Can I walk at least?”

Amara strode forward, carrying him out of the ballroom like some barbarian hero—or would that be heroine? “Do you promise to be a good boy until I get you naked and begging?”

He blinked. “I think I could manage it.”

The ballroom doors swung shut behind them, drowning out the whistles, laughter and clapping of the people of Maggie’s Grove.

Yup. It would take decades for their friends to forget the sight of him being carried out of the ball by his petite wife. He cupped Amara’s ass as she carried him out of the mansion, intent on having her wicked way with him. Laughter bubbled out of him when she swatted his ass with an order to “be good.”

“And what will I get if I do?” he sent her along their bond.

“I promise to be very, very good.”

Parker grinned, his fangs descending. He hoped it was going to be a long night.

“I can live with that.”

About the Author

Dana Marie Bell wrote her first short story when she was thirteen years old. She attended the High School for Creative and Performing Arts for creative writing, where freedom of expression was the order of the day. When her parents moved out of the city and placed her in a Catholic high school for her senior year, she tried desperately to get away, but the nuns held fast, and she graduated with honors despite herself. She’s now a bestselling author with Carina Press and Samhain Publishing, and has consistently earned top reviews from Romantic Times Book Reviews.

Dana has lived primarily in the Northeast with a brief stint on the U.S. Virgin Island of St. Croix. She lives with her soul mate and husband, Dusty, their two maniacal children, an evil ice cream–stealing cat and a bull terrier that thinks it’s a Pekinese. She’s been heard to describe herself as “vertically challenged” and “a lapsed brunette.” Dana also suffers from osteoarthritis, and can be seen walking with a cane or tooling around in her mobility scooter. Her condition was the inspiration for Belle’s hip injury in Steel Beauty.

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ISBN: 978-1-4268-9144-1

Copyright © 2011 by Dana Marie Bell

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