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Iran my thumb over his bottom lip, along his strong jaw. “I’m ready.”

His answering kiss was soft and sweet, a cherishing kiss that brought me to tears. “Shh,” he said against my lips. “You can change your mind. At any point. If pleasure turns to panic, we stop. Yes?”

I nodded.

“Good.” He took it slow, dragging open mouth kisses down my body, over my breasts and stomach. When he reached my pajama bottoms, he paused, waiting.

I ran my hands through his thick hair and nodded.

He slid them off, before resuming his kisses. His lips and tongue drove me over the edge. When he settled his mouth at my core, I had a moment of nerves, but they disappeared the moment he touched me. Hands fisted, forcing myself not to yank that beautiful hair, I rode the onslaught. Gasping for air, heart hammering, I realized I’d found a new best way to die. The pressure built and built, and with a moan, broke over me. I was a quivering, shuddering mess, and still Clive didn’t stop.

Once my limbs were under my own control again, I tapped his head with a murmured, “Clive?”

He looked up, eyes vamp-black, fangs extended. “Yes?”

“Could you come back up here?”

“I’m a little busy. Could I get back to you in a few?”

My laugh ended on a groan when his tongue gave one last swirl. He kissed and nibbled and licked as he moved north, spending considerable time on my breasts. When his mouth fused with mine, I thought my heart would break free of my chest. I wrapped my arms and legs around him, never wanting to let go, and realized he was still wearing his boxers.

I broke the kiss. “You seem to be overdressed for this next part.”

He smiled and kissed my chin. “There doesn’t need to be a next part if you’re not ready.”

I put my hands on his face and drew him in for a soft kiss. “Clive, you are my world. And, yes, there does need to be a next part.”

Clive stilled at my words, his eyes swamped with emotion. “Truly?”

“Yes. I know you have more sexy time vampy skills. Let’s see ‘em.”

His head dropped to my shoulder. “That word.”

“Skills?”

He plucked at a nipple. “Not that one.” His eyes gleamed. A second later his boxers were gone, and his fingers slid between my legs. I arched my back, echoes of the last orgasm still reverberating through me. His hand moved, and he settled between my legs, arms braced beside me.

“Still with me?”

“Of course,” I answered without hesitation.

He pushed into me, his mouth at my neck, his hand on my breast. I tensed. I didn’t mean to, didn’t want to, but he felt it.

“Look at me. Touch me. Stop thinking. Feel what I’m doing to you.”

He licked my neck before running his fangs down it. I shuddered, and he slid out and slammed back in. He bent down and swirled his tongue over my nipple while his fingers slid between my legs again. He worked my body like a virtuoso. Gripping his biceps, I clung to him, breathless. Wanting only Clive, I exalted in the connection and collected memories—the feel of him, the sound of his voice as he rumbled in my ears, the way he was able to make me feel whole and loved—for when he was no longer here.

The intensity built, my body straining. When it came, Clive was there with me, sharing the moment. I clung to him, my true north.

Rolling on to his back, he took me with him, holding me close as I curled into him. My racing heart slowed, and I grew sluggish with sleep. I was drifting away when I felt a gentle kiss on my brow. “Sam?” Clive’s voice was like a breath, my name an exhalation. I didn’t respond. Breath required no response. “I…” He sighed and then kissed the top of my head.

Embracing Clive, I’d found home. I awoke later to the sound of buzzing and then Clive’s voice murmuring in the background. When he threw the bedding back and stood, I forced my eyes open.

“You’re leaving?”

“Sorry. Go back to sleep. Russell called. He’s dealing with sticky diplomatic issues pertaining to our visitors. It also sounds as if my own nocturne isn’t happy about last night.”

What happened last night? Oh, right. Killer vampires. Like that was my fault.

“I need to go deal with it.” He already had his jeans on and was buttoning up his shirt. Once it was tucked, he put a knee on the bed and leaned over to give me a kiss. “I hate leaving.” He checked his watch. “I doubt I’ll get back before sunrise. Whether things settle down or not, though, I’ll see you tonight.”

“Okay.” I kissed him again, and then snuggled in for more sleep.

* * *

I awoke with a start.Something was wrong. Chills ran down my spine. My wards were being destroyed. Each felt like a flash strobing in my brain. The magic was being ripped out of me.

Someone was coming. I heard the muffled thump of many feet running. Closing my eyes, I reached out, testing what was left of each connection. The tunnel. They were coming up the tunnel.

I sprang from the bed and dressed, diving into sweatpants and a sweatshirt. I refused to be at anyone’s mercy, naked and defenseless. Not ever again.

The bookcase slammed open in the living room, books went flying as footsteps thundered into the room.

“Find her.” I knew that voice. It was Randy.

I raced silently on bare feet to the hidden doorway into the bookstore. Someone walked into my bedroom as I slid through the passage, closing the bookcase behind me. I stilled and listened. Were they still together or had they spread out?

“It reeks of vampire in here. She’s a freaky little wolf.”

“I don’t care what she fucks. Find her.” Crashes sounded through the wall from my bedroom.

“Lookey what I found.” A second later, glass shattered again and again, liquid splashing. It sounded as though someone had found my baseball bat and was demolishing my beautiful bar.

I ghosted through the dark to the last free-standing bookcase. I crouched down and jumped, landing on my toes and fingertips seven feet up, on top of the case. I’d never make it past them to the tunnels or stairs. I had to wait them out. I stretched out flat, trying to disappear.

“Where the hell is she?”

Someone was kicking displays, knocking books from the shelves. I froze, not wanting any movement to give me away.

“Turn on the lights, you morons!” Randy’s voice boomed in the bookstore.

Bright lights flicked on, taking my invisibility with it. Now all I could do was pray they didn’t look up.

Randy strode past bookshelves. “Did you check the storage rooms?”

Light footsteps danced down the stairs. “Well?” asked a female voice.

“She’s not here,” he said.

“You are as stupid as you are handsome. Of course, she’s here. It wasn’t easy to lure the corpse away, but we did. With any luck, he’ll be pointed in the wrong direction when he finds out, and he’ll eliminate his second for us. As for Samantha, she’s here and cowering. All alone. Aren’t you, dear?” she pitched her voice louder at the end for my benefit.

Heels clicked on the floor. “Just like your mother. She hid, too. Even with that disgusting wolf father polluting your blood, you still take after your worthless mother.”

“Well, where is she?” Randy asked.

“Shh, I like to play with my food.” Her tinkling laugh made my skin crawl.

Cornered, my mind raced. How would I survive this? I couldn’t fight multiple wolves and whatever she was, not and live. Any movement would call attention to myself. I knew she was trying to get a rise out of me but staying put was a different kind of trap.

“I can’t believe how much trouble you’ve been. How have you been slipping out of my spells? From all accounts, you’re a weak excuse for a wolf with no magical powers. You’re an embarrassment to the name Corey. Sometimes the family tree must be pruned to ensure that it flourishes in the future.” Her voice was getting closer.

Movement and then, “Take your men and go. She and I need to have a little chat. I’ll let you know when she’s ready.”

“You sure?”

“You doubt my ability to deal with one weak wolf? Do you need a reminder of what I’m capable of?”

“No. I just—come on, guys. We’ll wait up top.”

Footsteps shuffled away. I took advantage and leapt to the next bookcase, landing silently on my toes. I caught a glimpse of men walking through the bookstore doorway, under The Slaughtered Lamb pub sign. I leapt again, landing without a sound and then slid down to hide prone across the top of the case.

Heels clicked past my hiding place, towards the corner I’d been in only moments before. I popped up and leapt twice more. If I dropped to the ground here, I might be able to make it through the bar and out a tunnel before she found me. I slipped over the side, hanging from my fingertips a moment before dropping lightly to the floor.

“Samantha, you’ve been such a disappointment. Werewolf father. Vampire lover. You’re a cesspool, befouling ancient magical blood. Your very existence offends me.” Her voice sounded from the back corner.

I took my chance and ran for the doorway. Electricity shot through my body. Pain, unendurable, unrelenting pain tore at me with knife-sharp claws. My brain fractured, sharp pieces grinding against one another, organs frying. Blood trickled from my nose and ears.

As I convulsed in agony, the click of heels approached. A woman leaned over me with my mother’s face. Tears ran from my eyes, pooling in my ears. I was dying, and she was watching with mild curiosity.

“Do you remember your Auntie Abigail?”

A memory flashed in my mind, seeing those same eyes but through water. I couldn’t breathe. I’d kicked my little feet, splashing in the bath as she held me under. Her voice was muffled, but I remembered. “You should never have been born. Abomination.”

My mother came up behind her younger sister and smashed her over the head with a vase. When Abigail slumped to the side, my mother pulled me, choking, from the bath. She stuffed a few things in a bag, and we were running, the first of many late-night escapes.

“Oh, you do remember me. That’s lovely.” She smiled and my blood ran cold. “I have another memory for you,” she said as her fingers flicked.

I’m blindfolded and struggling, arms straining over my head, cuffed. The silver burns. My screams are nothing but breathy croaks. Slick, sticky blood runs down my body, dripping off my toes. The tickling of fur—he’s changing again. And all at once, the smell hits me. Years of nightmares and I’d never identified my torturer. Abigail knew. She’d kept him hidden. Made him faceless. Made him every man.

Randy. Barely teenaged Randy had tied me down as he cut me to ribbons. Teeth tore. Claws ripped. Nauseating scents clogged my nose. Liquid washed over my abdomen and legs, slashes burning anew. The long, serrated blade slid through my sternum as Randy began to carve. Horrific memories and long-ago wails echoed in an endless loop.

“She’s done,” Abigail called up the stairs. “I’d hurry, if I were you. She won’t last much longer. Do what you will, because it ends tonight.”

She stepped over me and left as feet pounded on the stairs again.

Randy leered down at me. “Hey, Princess, did you miss me?”