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“Actually, we want to talk to the person who was behind the bar last night.”

“That would be me. I’m Mike. What’s the problem?”

Ella pulled out a barstool and sat down, allowing Vadim to conduct the interview.

“We’re trying to trace the movements of a Brad Dailey. We believe he was here last night.”

“Brad? The blond-haired guy who got dumped?”

“That’s the one.”

“Did something happen to him? I made sure he didn’t drive home. I called him a cab, and Adam, the other guy who was here, said he’d see him home to his apartment.”

“The man’s name was Adam? Did you get his last name?”

“Nope. I missed that.”

“It doesn’t matter. You did the right thing not letting Brad drive.”

Ella sensed Vadim’s magic enfolding Mike, making him more receptive to answering questions. It was a useful tool, and one she intended to borrow from Vadim’s arsenal. It would complement her empath gifts nicely.

“Was there anyone else in the bar who conversed with Brad?”

“There wasn’t anyone else here, period. It was a quiet night. Just Brad and his girlfriend—until she stormed out, and then just the two guys. They were here for about three hours until I had to shut up shop.”

“Were they drinking heavily?”

“I wouldn’t say, like, heavily. They switched from beer to shots after about an hour, and they were talking a lot more than they were drinking.”

“Would you say either of them was intoxicated by the end of the night?”

“Brad was definitely a bit worse for wear, but Adam looked stone-cold sober. That’s why I was okay with him helping Brad home.” He opened the dishwasher and steam rose into the air. “Is the guy okay?”

“Brad’s fine. We’re more concerned about tracing the guy who helped him get home. Can you describe him to me?”

“Adam? He was probably in his thirties, well dressed in a suit and tie.” Mike picked up one of the glasses from the dishwasher rack and polished it before putting it back on the shelf.

“What did he look like?”

Mike frowned. “It’s hard to say. He was pretty average—brown hair, brown eyes, medium height, no visible tats or piercings, not buff or gay, just a regular kind of guy. It’s weird…now that I think of it, I really can’t picture him very well at all.”

“If I sent someone from our office down here to make a sketch of him with your help, do you think you could do it?”

“It depends. He was just so average, you know?”

“It’s okay, you never know what you might remember when you start working with the artist.” Vadim handed over a card. “Call me if you have any further questions or information to impart.”

“Will do.” Mike tucked the card in his shirt pocket. “Is Brad going to be okay?”

Ella got off the stool and smiled at him. “I’m sure he’ll be fine.”

“How about Adam?”

“If we find him, we’ll let you know. Did he mention if he was visiting the city, or has he been in here before?”

“I think he was here, like, for a conference, some computer thing, although he looked too well dressed to be a nerd, but you never know these days, do you?”

“Was he staying around here?”

He did mention a hotel, but I don’t remember which one.” Mike shrugged. “I generally try not to listen to everyone’s conversations, but it was a quiet night.”

“We understand, and we’re grateful you’ve been able to help us so much.”

“You’re welcome.” Mike hesitated. “Did Adam, like, steal stuff from Brad’s apartment or something?”

“He stole something, all right.” Ella wrapped her scarf around her neck. “But we’ll find him and make sure Brad gets everything back.”

“Good luck.”

She followed Vadim back out into the sunshine and walked into the nearest restaurant. She sat opposite him at a tiny table covered with a traditional red-and-white-check tablecloth. The table wobbled when she picked up her menu.

“Can you fix that?”

“The table?” He folded his paper napkin into a wedge, rocked the table for a minute and then shoved it under one of the feet. “Is that better?”

“Perfect. You don’t have a magic fixing spell, then?”

“I’m more of a destroyer than a fixer.”

“Funny.” She grinned at him as the waitress placed breadsticks on the table, accompanied by a plate of olive oil and balsamic vinegar. “I’m starving.”

“You always are.”

“I can’t help it.” She dipped her breadstick into the oil and swirled it around.

“I love to eat.” Holding his gaze, she brought the bread to her lips and slowly licked the oil off the rounded tip.

His eyes narrowed and the temperature around them seemed to increase by about a hundred degrees.

Very slowly she sucked the breadstick into her mouth and bit down.

He shuddered and reached for her hand. She was scorchingly aware of his need beneath her own skin, of wanting to rip off his shirt and touch his bare chest, to reach lower and grasp?—

“Are you ready to order?”

Ella jumped and turned to the waitress. “Yeah, I’ll have the cheese ravioli with the Gorgonzola sauce, please.”

“And for you, sir?”

“A green salad and a bowl of spaghetti with olive oil. No cheese.”

“Thank you.” The waitress scribbled on her pad. “Anything to drink?”

“Just some water, please.”

Ella dragged her attention away from Vadim. “A soda. Any kind, I don’t mind.”

“There are about two thousand calories in that ravioli you ordered.”

“So?”

“You’re not going to die next week.”

“We’ve already had this discussion.” She picked up another breadstick and pointed it at him. “What did you think of Mike the bartender?”

“He seemed to be telling the truth.”

“That’s what I got, too.” She deliberately crunched her way down the breadstick, sending crumbs flying everywhere. “It fits in with what Brad told us, as well. Don’t you think it’s weird how this Adam guy hasn’t left much of an impression on anyone?”

“I suspect that’s part of his magic. A creature that steals other people’s faces wouldn’t want to draw attention to his own, now, would he?”

“True.” Ella contemplated the plate of oil. “I still don’t get what he wants with Brad’s face, though, do you?”

“It could be for many things. A spell, an offering to a higher being, a collection of curiosities. Otherworld serial killers can be just as inventive as human ones.”

She shivered. “I know.”

He reached out and took her hand again. “We’ll work it out.”

“I’m glad you think so. I’m not so sure.” She tried to ease out of his grip, but he held on and brought her fingers to his mouth. With exquisite care he kissed his way along her knuckles, his tongue always in evidence, his breath warm on her flesh.

“Don’t play games with me, Ms. Walsh.” He bit down on the fleshy pad of her thumb and her whole body came instantly to life. “You can’t have it both ways.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Teasing me, and then talking about work.”

“I didn’t—” She bit back a moan as he bit and then licked her. Damn, she was wet now, and he would know.

“God, I know, and if I had a little less sense, I’d take you outside, back you up against the nearest wall and fill you up with my cock.”

“Shut up!”

* * *

This time she did manage to pull out of his grasp. His gaze dropped to her open coat and the tight buds of her nipples, which were visible through her T-shirt.

He reached for the glass of water the waitress had placed beside him and drank it down in one long swallow. “You drive me insane.”

“It’s my fault now, is it?”

He looked at her indignant face, her flushed cheeks and soft fair hair. He wanted to shove his hands into her hair and bring her mouth to meet his, and then reintroduce her to other, more needy parts of his anatomy…

“Stop it, you pig!”

He took a slow inward breath and raised his head to look past her.

The waitress was approaching with their lunch.

Thank the universe for small mercies. Nothing ever got between his mate and her food.

For once he was content to accept that. Except that this time, watching her enjoy her ravioli was akin to watching her orgasm.

If he wasn’t mistaken, her low moans were more suitable for being naked and in his bed than for a plate of cheese and pasta.

He eyed her speculatively. Of course, he could make her some pasta from scratch…

He shoved his fork into his spaghetti and twirled it.

He was behaving like a fool when he most needed to be on his guard.

If he wasn’t careful, Otherworld would have no problem dragging him back to face his fate, and Ella would be moaning over her pasta with someone else.

He finished his lunch and dabbed at his mouth with his napkin. “Are you ready to go? We need to be at the hospital.”

Ella scowled. “Give me a minute. I’m still eating.”

“Can’t you get it to go?”

“What’s eating your pants?”

Nothing, unfortunately. “I just want to avoid getting stuck in traffic.”

“Fine, I’ll get a box. This stuff deserves to be savored. I can have it for supper tonight.”

He stood up. “I’ll get you a box while I settle the bill.”

The route back to the hospital was full of twists and turns, and streets of unimaginable steepness, but he kept his attention fully on the task and ignored his companion as best he could.

She didn’t seem to mind, having attempted a conversation, gotten pissed off when he didn’t reply and then fallen asleep.

She snored.

He parked in the staff lot and got out of the car to open Ella’s door for her. She smiled up at him and he almost snarled with lust. Tonight, unless she relented, he had to go back to his hotel room alone.

“Help me out, I’m still sleepy.” She extended her hand and he just stared at her. “Morosov!”

He yanked her out of the car and into his arms and was kissing her before she’d even drawn another breath. She didn’t fight him, just melted into him and kissed him back. Within seconds, his hand was on her ass, picking her up and molding her against his aching cock.

“Morosov.”

He kept kissing her and tried to ignore her voice in his head.

“This isn’t the right place.”

“It never is, with you.” She bit his lip, driving him wild.

“We need to talk to this witness, and then we need to talk, okay?”

“You’re being the sensible one now? What the hell is wrong with you?” He wrenched his mouth away from hers, breathing hard. “And how are we going to manage that when I’m living in the city, and you’ve banned me from your house?”

“I haven’t banned you. How about I come and hang out with you at your hotel? We can have dinner and talk.” She sighed, and looked into his eyes. “And have sex. Can we do that?”

He set her away from him. He’d never thought he’d be the one who had to beg for her time. With his powers, he could compel her to do anything he desired, but he wanted her to come to him willingly. He wanted her to crave him as much as he craved her. “All right.”

She smoothed down her clothing, not that it made much difference to her appearance. She always looked as if she’d just rolled out of bed. “It’s a deal. Let’s go and meet Penny Jordan.”