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There was nothing there.

No link, not even a whisper of one, and no control over what he showed her, what he made her experience.

She saw her blushing self in his memories when he first encountered her, heard the wet rush of her blood in his ears, smelled the raw terror Dominique tried so hard to hide. All of it stoked a raging jealousy tearing through Kambyses. Jealousy of her, this mere mortal girl who had such a hold on the chosen one.

Chosen for what? She didn’t know. He didn’t show her. But he did show her how he spun a dream for her that night, that he fed from her. He showed her Dominique watching, immobilized and in a helpless, murderous rage.

The virtual floor vanished beneath her feet, dropping her into a free-fall toward oblivion. She heard the ancient vampire’s hoarse whisper from the fathomless depths.

Know me.

So she did. And she knew Kambyses resented her beyond all measure.

But he would not destroy her.

No, that he would leave for Dominique.

24

Hunter’s Lair

“Baby? I think you need to come back here.”

Jackson groaned under his breath. What did he have to do to keep this woman satisfied? His dick lay exhausted in his hand as he relieved himself. It was doubtful that Avery would get another rise out of him this morning, but she sounded determined to try.

“Babe?”

“Can I finish my piss?” he said more sharply than he intended. She didn’t respond. He knew better than to think she was offended. Nor would it matter if she was. Money and fucking were the extent of her interests, and he provided both in spades, though he would cut back on the latter the moment she was pregnant. Heirs to secure the Striker family line were all his father and uncle asked of him these days. That and a wife who harbored no ambitions beyond marrying into a prominent family, and was as pleasing to the eye as she was dim. Uncle Garrett had selected Avery for him based on these exacting requirements.

“Can you piss faster?”

He ground his teeth and willed his bladder to slow down. He had refused to see this woman, one year his senior, for months. Then his father threatened to disown him unless he fell in line and fast. He was done waiting for Jackson to get over Cassidy, a woman who, besides being too bright for her own good, was also enslaved to a vampire and therefore lost to him.

Officially, anyway.

By some unfathomable miracle, she still lived and seemed very much herself. Sometimes he could cajole her into useful conversation. Eventually he’d get an opening to reach her, make her see reason, or, better yet, take that cunning bastard bloodsucker out of the picture entirely.

Until then, Jackson would bide his time, be vigilant, and do what he was told. Even if that meant screwing until his dick fell off with a woman who didn’t give a shit about him outside his family’s bank accounts and his ability to keep it up in bed. Which right now he definitely couldn’t. He checked his Rolex, which she insisted he wear to bed. Ten past five in the morning.

“I need to get going,” he called and flushed to drown out her renewed plea. Snatching up a discarded pair of briefs and his running shorts, he pulled them on. He didn’t look at the dark-haired woman in the bed as he paced past, toward his walk-in closet. “Time for my run, babe.”

“You’re going to leave me here alone with him?”

He turned on the light to locate a fresh shirt. He also pocketed one of the small full-spectrum flashlights he kept stashed here. These were a required night-time precaution for more reasons than being able to see.

The indignant words didn’t register until he reached for his shoes. With him? Which him? The only “him” he could think of in his suite at this time of day was Garrett. His uncle didn’t much respect anyone’s privacy, especially where clandestine Foundation business was concerned.

But Garrett wasn’t in the house. Garrett wasn’t even in the country. Or had he returned without telling anyone?

Shoes in hand, Jackson emerged into the bedroom, ready for an argument. After the bright light in the closet, the room—lit only by the soft flicker of a gas fireplace—was filled with pockets of obscurity. The bed was clear enough, though. Instead of lounging provocatively as she had earlier, Avery sat with the satin sheets drawn up over her breasts. Haughty displeasure radiated off her. Beside the bed, the balcony door stood ajar, letting in cool night air. His flesh tingled with the chill of premonition. “Leave you alone with who?”

She jerked her chin at the far corner of the room. “He says you know him.”

Jackson peered into the shadows where an occasional chair contained another, perfectly still shadow.

He dropped the shoes and reached for the flashlight in his pocket. “What the fuck are you doing here?” he barked, twisting the burgeoning fear into outrage. “Avery, you need to go. Now.”

Avery hesitated only a moment before scooting off the bed. With the sheet trailing behind her, she collected her clothes from the floor.