It had been too long since she had been kissed like this, Stacia thought, opening her mouth to accept the sweet slide of his tongue.

She nipped at it with her teeth—human teeth—and at the edges of his lips, so full, so heated, so human.

Human, she reminded herself as a curl of heat ignited deep within her and slowly spread throughout her body, awakening the demon.

She battled back the vampire, wanting to bask in the delight of his attention. Savoring his honest but conflicted passion.

His gaze focused on her lips until he slowly lifted it upward and a puzzled look swept across his features. “Your eyes. They’re blue now,” he said.

The demon’s eyes, she thought, surprised she had not been able to contain that aspect of the vampire. The even more confused look on his face confirmed that the normal brown of her eyes had returned.

“How—” he began.

“Do you really want to know?”

Dear Reader,

When Stacia first appeared on the vampire scene in Death Calls, I instantly fell in love with her as a character. On the outside Stacia was a brash and unrepentant vampiress who had no qualms about going after both Diana and Ryder to satisfy her sexual needs. But I knew that inside she was lonely and hungry for love.

It’s taken me a while to find just the right person to give Stacia a happily-ever-after. Eventually it occurred to me that Stacia had already met just the man! Never mind that he was near death at the time and she was about to feed from him when pity made her help him live instead.

In Kissed by a Vampire, DEA agent Alex Garcia will come face-to-face with the sexy demon who has plagued his nights since his near-death experience. But Alex is unprepared for just how much Stacia will touch his heart and how badly he wants her to find the happiness she’s been missing.

Caridad Piñeiro

About the Author

New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author and RITA® finalist CARIDAD PIÑEIRO wrote her first novel in the fifth grade when her teacher assigned a project—to write a book for a class lending library. Caridad continued with her passion for the written word, and in 1999 Caridad’s first novel was released. Over a decade later, Caridad is the author of more than thirty published novels and novellas. When not writing, Caridad is a wife, an attorney, and a mother to an aspiring writer and fashionista. For more information, please visit www.caridad.com.

Kissed by
a Vampire
Caridad Piñeiro

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To my daughter Samantha—you are the light of my life and I am so proud of you. Congratulations on all that you’ve achieved. May you fulfill all your wonderful dreams and always have love in your heart.

Mamacita

Chapter 1

The nightmares had sucked life from him for months.

Then they had stopped abruptly.

Tonight’s bad dream was far worse. It sank its teeth deep and refused to let go.

Maybe it was wrong to call it a dream, Alex Garcia thought as he walked into a scene that was so vivid he could smell, taste and feel all that was around him.

The apartment he entered was dank and reeked of urine from the many squatters that had used the place for shelter. Only the chill of the winter night kept his discomfort to a tolerable level in the abandoned apartment. His cold sweat on the grip of his Glock turned the stock slippery. His gut tightened as he held his breath.

He was nervous.

Not a condition he was used to. He had grown accustomed to danger in his many years as a DEA agent. This mission was different.

Failure on this mission meant the possibility of death for hundreds of innocent civilians.

Never again.

He repeated the vow he had made after September 11, the one that had been the reason he had accepted this assignment.

He gripped the Glock tighter and moved farther into the apartment. He and his fellow Cuban Democratic Army member were supposed to pick up a stolen handheld smartbomb delivery system that the CDA planned to use in the terrorist attack that he intended to prevent.

The weapon was not in the empty apartment as it should have been. As he turned to look at his partner, wondering if they had gone to the wrong location, another CDA member stepped from a back room and opened fire.

The force of the blow to his chest had him reeling backward. The pain was so intense he nearly blacked out from it. When a second blast immediately followed, ripping into his midsection, his knees buckled.

He fell back against the wall, slowly sinking to the ground in a sitting position, the body of the other CDA member sprawled beside him. The man’s lifeless stare confirmed that he was dead, much as Alex expected to be shortly as his assailant trained his weapon on Alex’s head for the coup de grâce.

The loud sounds of gunfire and an explosion outside the room distracted the shooter long enough for Alex to raise his weapon and fire.

With a surprised look, the armed man lowered his gun and stared at the blossoming trail of blood down the middle of his chest. It was the last thing he saw as he dropped to the ground, dead from a direct shot to the heart.

Alex had little time to ponder what to do next.

He was too badly wounded to move. Already he could feel the growing warmth of the blood soaking into his clothing and leaving a chill behind in his body. He was going to die there, alone and unable to do anything else to help stop the terrorist attack.

He had failed in his mission.

Outside the apartment all hell had broken loose judging from the noises reverberating in the winter night. The FBI must have moved in and the CDA was likely fighting back, determined to complete their plot.

A second later, the door to the apartment burst open, slamming against the wall.

His eyesight was fading, but he saw that a man had entered the room. He was holding something.

Someone.

He forced himself to focus and realized the man held Alex’s ex-lover, but Diana wasn’t moving. Blood covered the man’s arms and hands as he embraced her.

Diana’s blood. Too much of it.

Alex forced himself to take a painful breath, attempting to speak. It managed to get the man’s attention, and as his gaze wavered, Alex finally glimpsed the man’s face.

Only it wasn’t a man.

Shock gathered his senses, bringing Alex to painful alertness.

He had to protect Diana from whatever that was. He tried to raise his gun, only his body refused to cooperate. He couldn’t move his arm. Couldn’t even feel the Glock in his hand anymore as awareness fled his dying body.

A voice suddenly penetrated his fading consciousness.

They weren’t alone in the room any longer.

He trained his attention on that voice—a woman’s husky tones.

“This one’s still alive.”

Alex realized she was referring to him, not that he would be alive for much longer. That realization didn’t bring fear for himself, but for those he had failed.

“Unlike your friend will be shortly,” the woman added and motioned to the monster holding Diana in his arms.

“Leave,” the demon commanded, pain evident in that one word, but the woman just laughed and sauntered over. She crouched before the demon and Diana.

Alex’s hearing and vision were dimming quickly. Only a confused murmur of voices came to him, but then the woman shot upright and strode angrily across the room toward him.

Her bright, almost phosphorescent blue-green gaze locked with his, her fangs clearly visible. A vampire, he thought for the barest of moments.

Only, vampires weren’t real.

What he was seeing had to be a product of his blood loss, he thought.

But as the woman leaned closer, there was no denying what stood before him. She stared at him hard and, for a moment, reverted to human form.

She was quite beautiful as a human, he thought, before the vampire returned and bent toward him. Sharp fangs grazed his neck as the warm kiss of her lips slipped across his skin, awakening ardor.

Bestowing passion that twisted together with the pain in his body and soul as her fangs broke through his skin.

Alex shot up in bed, drenched with perspiration. Shaking from the reality of the waking nightmare and the desire that was always associated with it.

As he wiped his hands across his face, clearing the cold sweat of fear mixed with unwanted passion, he tried to scrub away the memories of the demon as well, but they refused to leave.

Refused to depart in much the way that the recurring memories of that winter night had not left him.

Alex cursed beneath his breath, hoping that he could muster enough control by the morning to pass his psychological review tomorrow. He had been itching to get back into the field for months. If the DEA psychologist picked up on the vibes from his nightmare, Alex was worried that the shrink wouldn’t clear him for undercover duty.

Who could trust an agent in the field who worried that vampires roamed the darkness?

He had to get a grip, he told himself, lying back down and willing himself to go back to sleep. An untroubled sleep free of the nightmare of the failed mission and the monsters that haunted his nights.

But even as he was finally able to drift off, the vision of her face—both vampire and mortal—wove itself into his subconscious, leaving him to wonder if he maybe wasn’t losing his sanity.

After nearly two thousand years of immortality, life had become predictably boring. Possibly even depressing.

Not that being a vampire didn’t have certain benefits, Stacia considered, trying to convince herself that being a vampire elder rocked.

First, her age bestowed vast powers upon her. Incredible physical prowess and strength coupled with the ability to mentally control others, especially those vampires and humans she had gifted with a bite or a taste of her blood.

Even better, her elder status also brought sexual pleasures and lust beyond anything she could have ever imagined.

So what if the price paid for those powers by a shy virgin had been not only the loss of her innocence but her life?

She should revel in all that her elder powers could bring, Stacia thought as she perused the crowd passing before the veranda of her South Beach hotel. Excitement rose up at the thought of burying her teeth into the soft skin of a willing partner and drinking deeply. Maybe even creating a playmate to keep her company for a while.

Unfortunately, in her nearly two millennia of life, there had been not one partner worthy of offering a true vampire’s embrace and the kind of existence that could follow.

What was worse, Stacia didn’t believe it was even worth the challenge after so long.

It was why she had opted to come south since Manhattan had gotten extremely … bothersome lately.

All those wannabe human vampires with their goodness and love. Still trapped in the denial stage she had survived long ago. It was totally disgusting that so many of her men had succumbed to Cupid’s senseless entreaty. Even Diego, nearly an elder by virtue of his own lengthy existence, had fallen for a mortal. A dying one at that.

At least Diego had had the sense to turn the human and bind her to him.

Not that it mattered to Stacia that Diego now had a lifelong companion. The human monogamy of her friends and all the melodrama that Manhattan seemed to offer lately had grown too tiresome.

She had needed a change of pace, and Miami had seemed like just the place to visit, especially after a disturbing and violent winter in New York City. The two cities couldn’t be more disparate and Stacia welcomed that change.

She stepped from the veranda of the Park Central Hotel and out into the almost pleasant air of a South Beach spring night. Almost pleasant because the humidity was building even this early in the season, gathering strength for the hot and heavy days of summer that would be there in just over a month.

It had been nearly a century since she had done a Miami summer, Stacia recalled, gliding down Ocean Drive as dusk settled over the city. Flagler’s railroad had brought the rich and wealthy down to the tropical climes, helping to create the metropolis that had provided a wonderful playground for her visit during the Roaring Twenties. Forty years later the diaspora of Cubans fleeing Castro would make their mark on the city and launch a new direction for Miami’s growth.

Ah, the Cubans. Her mouth watered at the thought of something so deliciously different.

She hurried down Ocean Drive, hunger and need driving her toward Lincoln Road and the nightclub the hotel’s concierge had recommended. As she reached the location, she noted the long line of humans waiting to enter and the muscle-bound bouncer guarding the door.

Smiling, she walked up to the man and sent him a mental command. With a dazed look, he obeyed, lifting the velvet rope to permit her to enter despite the grumbled complaints from those at the head of the line. With a sharp glance their way, Stacia silenced them with another blast of elder power.

Inside the club, dozens of couples moved to the beats spewing from the club’s sound system. Speakers were mounted everywhere, creating not just a cacophony of noise, but an almost physical assault from the pounding music. Pings, chirps and shouts emanated from some rather avid electronic gaming in an adjacent room. An odd combination of noises, and while Stacia would have preferred a quieter venue, the push of vampire power confirmed to her that others of her kind were present.

Not many vampires, however. And not one of the vamps she sensed was as powerful as she was, Stacia thought as she threaded her way through the crowd. That was just as well. She didn’t want to spend the night in a pissing contest with an elder worried about her moving in on his territory.

Plus, the presence of vampires in the club confirmed it was a good place to satisfy undead needs in a variety of ways.

Pleased, she continued onward, seeking her satisfaction for the night.

The Widget provided an odd combination of entertainment, from the dancing and nightlife in one section of the club to the electronic gaming and gadgets in another.

Of course, since certain sections of Miami had once dubbed themselves Silicon Beach, it only seemed natural that someone would one day meld that aspect of the city with those for which the city was more known—the beaches and nightclubs, Alex thought as he slipped from the low-slung seat of his customized Crossfire convertible.

Even though he was supposed to be on desk duty, Alex wanted to stay in touch with what was happening at his old haunts. A visit to the various clubs would help him be ready when he was cleared to return to his undercover assignment.

As those coming and going on foot passed by and the noises of activity within the club filtered out into the night, Alex hurried down an alley to a side door. It was guarded by a familiar face. The man smiled as he realized who it was.

“Hola, Alejandro. Good to see you.”

The security guard embraced Alex heartily, clapping him on the back. He had the build of a sumo wrestler, was a good half foot taller than Alex’s six feet and twice as broad as Alex across the shoulders and waist. He was also one of the drug dealers along the Ocean Drive strip and an informant Alex had relied on during many an investigation.

“Good to be alive, Pedro, unlike the guy who shot me,” he said, playing the little game they always did. As far as most of the locals in South Beach knew, Alex was part of the underground that fed the sinful pleasures to be found as part of South Beach’s nightlife. Only a select few knew he was an undercover agent.

With a playful jab to the other man’s rotund middle, he freed himself from the bouncer’s embrace and stepped through the door into the club.

The Widget was packed. Alex ducked and weaved through the throng, searching with keen eyes for signs of any illegal activities. As he passed through one section close to the video games, he caught sight of a familiar silhouette, but quickly lost sight of the woman among the crowd.

He peered over the people lingering close to the dance floor, searching for another glimpse of her and thought he spotted her once again near the bar. As he elbowed his way past the bodies milling nearby, he confirmed that she stood at the bar, apparently waiting for service.

Her hair was short and dark, nearly sealblack, and cropped close to the elegant line of her neck. The dress she wore was lethally feminine, hugging her very generous curves and providing enticing glimpses of pale, creamy skin beneath all the black.

Something infinitely sexy about this woman called to him.

Dangerously sexy, he thought as his gut tightened with a need so intense his knees wavered.

His powerful reaction made him increase his pace toward her, eager to find out why she affected him so and why she seemed so familiar. But then the woman turned and smiled at someone beside her.

She wasn’t alone.

He stopped dead in his tracks. He wasn’t one to poach on another man’s territory, only …

The woman’s profile rang a powerful chord from him.

She seemed to sense his interest for she slowly dragged her gaze from the tall, well-built man next to her and transferred it to him. A moment of puzzlement narrowed her dark and exotic almond-shaped eyes, before a dazzling smile stole onto her lips.

Her smile appeared to be challenging him to come over. The pull of it was so strong that he stepped forward until she once again turned away to attend to her date.

Was she playing with him? he wondered for a moment before it came to him again that he knew her. He was certain of it, but Alex was at a loss to place the intriguing woman. He chalked it up to the brain fog he had experienced for months after the surgery he’d had to endure to repair his body’s wounds. He blamed that lack of clarity for his failure to identify the alluring creature standing just yards away.

As the crowd shifted in front of him, blocking his view, he sidestepped a few people and then pushed forward, searching for her again.

Needing to see more of her.

But she was gone.

He dropped back into the crowd, questioning where she had gone. Wondering how it was that they were … connected. There was no other way to describe the reaction he’d had at the sight of her. However they knew each other, it had to have been something more than just a chance meeting.

Pity him for being unable to remember.

Her vamp radar detected the powerful thrum of interest.

She glanced away from the man next to her to survey the crowd for the origin of that sensation as they waited for the bartender to bring their drinks.

Her petite stature had her peering through the throng of bodies lingering nearby and moving on the dance floor. She peeked between the humans, then rose on tiptoe until her gaze collided with that of a handsome Latino.

Tall and well built, he had dark hair that was short on the side, longer up top and stylishly gelled into place. His olive skin lacked the tan of many in the establishment, but was creamy looking against the pale beige of his guayabera shirt.

He was intently staring her way, his deep green eyes narrowing to examine her as their gazes met and held. Her own was puzzled as she explored his features, trying to imagine why it was that he seemed familiar.

Puzzled that she couldn’t remember someone so deliciously attractive.

She hadn’t been in Miami in nearly a century, which meant that if they had met, it had to have been somewhere else.

His stare was so intent—so desirous—that it dragged a sexy smile to her face. A smile that dared him to come visit and explore whatever connection was happening between them.

When he returned that invitation with the determined glitter in his gaze, it roused desire, making her question how she could fail to remember him. Maybe Manhattan? She searched her memory, but her companion dipped his head close, dragging her attention back to him.

“The drinks are here,” her dinner date said, nuzzling the side of her face, the heat of his human state pulling her attention back to him.

She smiled, the handsome Latino man forgotten as the words from an old song—about loving who you’re with if you can’t have the one you love—played in her brain.

It didn’t matter where she had seen the handsome Latino or why he was calling to her so strongly. For tonight, the man beside her would be the one to share her bed and be her meal. The attractive stranger would just have to wait until tomorrow.

The delay would only help tenderize him. Make him even more susceptible to her charms in the future.

After all, there would always be another tomorrow in her undead life.

Chapter 2

The call came in the late afternoon on his office line, well after the DEA psychologist had cleared him for duty. The relief from the outcome of his visit to the shrink that morning was disturbed by the sound of his ex-colleague’s troubled voice.

“Garcia. Heard you were back from leave,” Dan McAnn said, striving for an upbeat tone but failing miserably.

“Back and ready to head undercover again.”

“Good to hear,” Dan said, but then an awkward pause filled the air.

Alex leaned forward and tightly gripped the phone, his head hunched downward as he contemplated the reason for his old friend’s call. Dan had retired a few years earlier after the stress of the job and family problems had created one too many issues at the office, including troubles with Dan hitting the bottle way more often than could be tolerated.

“Is everything okay, Dan? Do you need anything?” His inflection was conciliatory since Dan had been a good agent at one time and Alex had liked him on a personal level.

Another pause came on the line followed by a heartfelt sigh. “I’m okay. Got a great job as a security guard over on Star Island.”

“Must be rough hobnobbing with the rich and famous,” he teased, grateful to hear that his life seemed back on track.

“It’s my kid, Alex. She’s been missing for almost a week.”

He reclined in his chair, now understanding the reason Dan was calling. “I guess you went to the police, but they don’t want to do anything.”

Dan let out an abrupt exhale. “You know that Andrea and I … She’s been a problem child. Some drugs. Ran away right before I … retired.”

Alex was well aware of the problems. Talk around the office had been that Dan’s daughter had been the major reason he’d started drinking heavily and missing work. More than once Dan had run out of the office to deal with one of Andrea’s scrapes with the law.

“Local law enforcement thinks she ran away again, and won’t investigate,” Alex surmised.

“Last time, Andrea was only gone for a couple of nights and she left a note about leaving. Took some things with her.”

“And this time is different?” Alex prompted while reaching for a pad of paper and pen.

“She’s been going to AA with me and we’ve both been sober for over a year. Andrea is really trying to keep her act together. But a friend asked her to go to a club—the Widget.”

Alex had visited the nightclub last night. It was also where he had seen—and then lost sight of—that very fascinating woman.

“We’ve had our eye on the place for some time.”

“Her friends say she met a man there. Went off with him into one of the private gaming rooms and never came back out.”

“Can her friends provide a description of the man?”

When Dan replied affirmatively, Alex continued. “Can you give me their names and numbers?”

“You’re willing to help me find Andrea?” Dan asked, surprised happiness lightening the timbre of his voice.

“I can’t make any promises, but I’ll ask around. See what I can find out. Check with the local LEOs, as well.”

“Thank you, Alex. You can’t imagine what this means to me.”

But Alex could imagine what losing someone so special did mean. He had lost someone dear twice in his lifetime now and he had survived.

But barely.

And somewhere along the way, he had lost pieces of his heart and soul. It would be a long time before he opened himself up to more of that kind of heartbreak, he thought.

As he took down the information from Dan, it occurred to him that fate might just be finding ways for him to get his life moving forward once again.

First there had been that sexy woman from last night, and now he had a worthwhile case to investigate. Maybe a combination of both would help drive away the demons and nightmares that plagued him.

With renewed purpose, Alex dialed the number for the first name that Dan had given him.

From her oceanfront suite in the Park Central Hotel, Stacia peered past the edges of the thick blackout curtains she had asked the hotel to install. Considering that some of their patrons spent the night partying and the day sleeping, it wasn’t such an unusual request.

But unlike the party animals nestled in their beds after their nightlong binges, she was up and about after only a short daytime rest, her elder powers giving her stamina beyond that of other vampires. It was a double-edged sword since what did one do with all that energy and wakefulness if one couldn’t go out in the sun?

Especially the strong Miami sun. Stacia stayed at the window as long as she could before the strength of the afternoon rays on her skin became more than she could bear.

It had been another gorgeous late-spring day beyond the curtains. The cerulean of the ocean bright beneath a cloudless sky. A sweet ocean breeze rustling the deep green fronds of the palms through Lummus Park.

There had been hundreds of bodies on the beach, soaking up the daylight. She imagined the heat of their skin from the punishing rays. Imagined how such a sun-toasted body pressed to hers would take away the chill from her skin. Fantasized about sinking her teeth into that heated flesh and savoring sun-warmed blood.

A shiver of need danced through her at the thought, tightening her insides. Demanding that she find satisfaction. But the solar rays were still too strong for her to venture outside.

Satisfaction would have to come in some other way.

She strode to the small refrigerator tucked into the entertainment center in the room. Inside were the half a dozen or so blood bags she had obtained from the local hospital a few nights earlier. It hadn’t taken much effort. With her elder power, she had slipped past hospital security with an implanted suggestion, found the blood bank and helped herself to some fresh O neg.

Removing the blood from the fridge, the chill of the plastic was a taunting reminder of how this snack was second best to those solar worshippers outside and of how cold she was.

Blood bag in hand, Stacia walked to the bathroom and eyed the tub. Decided a nice long soak would go a long way to eliminating the nip in her body. She filled the tub with water as hot as her undead flesh could stand and added a packet of bath salts that the hotel had left for guests. When the bath was ready, she returned to the room, slit open the top of the blood bag and poured a hefty portion into one of the wineglasses from the mini-bar. Some blood remained in the bag, and rather than waste it, Stacia quickly drained the container dry.

The energy of that small bit of blood surged through her body, awakening it.

Awakening needs of various kinds.

She sipped the blood in the glass as she strolled back to the claw-foot tub and placed her beverage on a small, filigreed stand. Whirls of steam rose from the water as Stacia slipped off her robe and then eased into the roomy tub.

The heat enveloped her, but it was a poor substitute for a lover’s embrace. That would have to wait until tonight’s encounter.

Maybe she would run across the handsome man from last night. The one who had seemed so interested in her. The intense look on his face had stayed with her long after she had lost sight of him in the crowd and then left the club.

For a few moments she let herself imagine how that intensity might feel directed toward her. How his long, lithe body, so much bigger than hers, would surround her and how he might lift her up against him with those muscled arms. Take her to her bed and fill her night with pleasure.

With a sigh, she reluctantly eased her arm out of the warmth of the water to grab her glass. Took a bracing gulp of the blood, which sent a wave of energy crashing through her insides.

Stacia gasped from the force of it, and as she sucked in a steadying breath, the scents from the baths slipped into her consciousness.

Eucalyptus.

Orange blossoms like those on the potted trees tucked into the niches of the walls in her family’s bath.

Memories assailed her of those baths, driving away the pleasant daydream about her mystery man.

The scents recalled the times she had shared the baths with her family. With Hadrian, when she had turned him, centuries after she had lost her life and her innocence.

Lost both of them in those waters.

With her hand shaking from the blood’s life force running through her veins, she brought the glass to her lips and took another deep gulp, nearly emptying it. She placed the drink back on the stand and eased beneath the water’s edge, the temperature of the liquid feeling almost cool now that the vampire’s heat surged through her body.

The desire stirred by the blood became unbearable, and as Stacia slipped her hand down between her thighs to satisfy that desire, the warm wetness and scents of the water transported her back to that fateful day.

Rome, nearly 2,000 years earlier

“Stop it, Cassius.” Stacia giggled as she dodged her intended’s amorous advances along their moonlit stroll. They had been walking for close to an hour, through the Forum and then back to her family’s home near the Tiber.

Cassius grabbed hold of her hand and dragged her into the shadows by the door to the building holding the baths in her home. “The ceremony is tomorrow, beloved.”

Tomorrow being the day her father would place her hand in Cassius’s, turning over control of her to her intended along with the substantial dowry her father, a senator, was bestowing upon them to start their married life together.

Not that Stacia would be controlled.

At seventeen she was past the age when most of her friends had been married. Wiser than them, she thought as she snared Cassius’s hand as he slipped it beneath the edge of her sleeveless tunic and pressed his body to hers. The obvious proof of his desire butted against the softness of her belly.

“Cassius,” she warned again, but her beloved would not be dissuaded.

He inched closer and bent his head, bringing his lips to her neck. He dropped a line of kisses up to the shell of her ear where he whispered, “I have something I want to show you.”

Stacia shivered as he tugged on her earlobe, desire awakening despite her better sense. There was something different about Cassius lately. In the past few weeks, ever since he had spent time with some new friends out in the country, he had been …

Sexier.

More demanding.

Infinitely darker, with a dangerous air he had not possessed before.

He must have sensed she was weakening, since he reached down, cupped her breast and unerringly found the tip, rotating it between his fingers and dragging a strangled moan from her.

“You are so beautiful. Let me show you how beautiful, my wife,” he said huskily, the low tones of his voice strumming alive greater need within her.

“Wife now, is it?” she teased and pulled on a longish lock of his dark hair to draw him away.

“Tonight you are my wife. Tomorrow is only a matter of ceremony, no?” He smiled, his deep brown eyes glowing with a strange new light, the paleness of his skin a startling contrast to the darkness of his jet-black hair.

Had his skin always been that bloodless or was it an illusion from the moonlight? she wondered for a moment before he tightened his fingers on her breast, creating a sympathetic tug between her legs. The pull of desire was so intense she had to close her eyes against the strength of it, which just caused Cassius to chuckle.

“Do not deny yourself, Stacia. You are a woman of immense passion. I can show you great pleasure tonight. The kind of pleasure we will share forever, my wife.”

Forever, she thought, imagining the life she would be starting with Cassius come the morning. Eager to begin a new phase since she had gotten bored with the mundane tasks of helping her mother run their household. It was long past time that she should have a home of her own and a husband to warm her bed.

“Show me,” she said, and he chuckled once more, grasped her hand and led her into the baths.

Stacia dragged herself away from the painful memories of her once-beloved Cassius.

As something wet trickled down the side of her face, she brushed it away, but was surprised as she encountered the salt of her tears and not the bathwater.

Dashing away the tears, she rose from the bath and dressed quickly, needing to leave before the reminiscences brought more pain and disillusionment. She had no desire to let those emotions cloud the bright Miami days she had escaped Manhattan to enjoy.

As she dressed and shot one last look in the mirror, imagining how she might appear, another image pulled at her memory. The vision of her tall, handsome Latino—the one she had connected with briefly at the club the night before.

Yet again it occurred to her that there had been something familiar about his face, much as his expression had given away that there had been something recognizable about her. As she finally left her hotel room and escaped into the night, she tried time and again to place the man, but each attempt failed.

The identity of her mystery man would have to wait until later. It wasn’t as if she didn’t have an eternity of nights to find him, although she hoped it wouldn’t take her too long.

Something about him whispered to her that he might be able to fill the nights that loomed before her, eternal and empty.

Predictably boring.

Recalling the determined glitter in his eyes, she decided that the handsome Latino would be anything but boring.

Because of that, Stacia hastened her pace, eager for the night to begin.

Chapter 3

Alex handed the artist’s sketch to Miranda, the final one of Andrea’s friends he had to interview. The very last person who had seen Andrea entering the private area with the man they called “the Sheik.” Miranda had agreed to meet him at one of the cafés along the Ocean Drive strip where they sat at an intimate table for two tucked beneath an umbrella.

Miranda took but a cursory glance at the sketch and immediately shoved the drawing back in Alex’s direction. “This is the guy.”

With shaky hands she reached into her purse, pulled out a pack of cigarettes and offered him one.

He held up his hand. “No, thanks.”

She lit up and took a deep drag, her actions skittish. Her eyes were hidden from him by the sunglasses she wore. She blew out a breath of smoke, and he watched it drift into the darkening Miami sky.

“You’re sure Andrea was with this man at the Widget?” he pressed, just to confirm.

Miranda bent forward and perused the sketch again before nodding and taking another nervous drag from her cigarette.

“I’m sure. We had seen him there before. He always had a harem and lots of money, so we nicknamed him ‘the Sheik.’”

“Do you know his real name?” Alex picked up his espresso cup and blew across its surface before taking a tentative sip.

Miranda glanced around, almost as if fearful to answer.

Alex tracked her gaze but observed nothing suspicious.

“Are you afraid, Miranda? Do you think—”

“He’ll come get me?” Miranda took a long pull on her cigarette before forcefully blowing out a plume of smoke.

“So, are you afraid?” he repeated when she delayed.

Miranda shrugged. “I don’t plan on going back to the Widget. Ever.”

“No one asked you to do that, Miranda. I just need you to tell me a little something more about that night and this man.” Alex flipped the sketch around so Miranda could not avoid seeing it.

Another shrug came in answer, shifting the strap of the loose black tank top she wore. The shirt dipped to reveal the curves of her breasts and no bra.

Miranda pulled the strap back into place as she said, “We went. We saw. She conquered.”

Alex raised an eyebrow. “She, as in Andrea?”

Miranda nodded. “Andrea had been intrigued by the Sheik more than the rest of us. That night she was determined to meet him, so she was dressed to kill. It seemed like it was her lucky night.”

“Why’s that?” Alex leaned toward her so he could read the nuances in her body language. He wished she would remove her damned sunglasses so he could see her eyes.

Eyes could definitely tell you a hell of a lot more than words alone.

Amazingly she did as he had wished, tossing aside the sunglasses before dragging a hand through the long locks of her dark hair.

She had old eyes, he decided. Aged beyond her twentysomething years. A sure sign of a hard life, but given what he knew of Andrea’s past, he supposed her friend’s eyes mirrored that. Drugs and other problems had taken their toll.

“The Sheik was alone that night. Drinking at the bar all by his lonesome. Andrea jumped on the opportunity to meet him.”

And to jump on him, Alex suspected but didn’t say. “So they spent time together at the club?”

Miranda nodded. “Dancing. Drinking. After, he took her to the video-game area.”

“You saw her there? In the video-game area?”

Another quick bob of Miranda’s head confirmed it before she said, “For an hour or so. Then she went with him into the private rooms. We thought she was going to one of those luxury gaming digs that everyone was always talking about.”

“And that was the last time you saw her? You didn’t think to call or check on her the next day? Or the day after that?”

She winced at the condemnation in his voice, which he hadn’t been able to control. Even if Andrea hadn’t been Dan’s daughter, it would have been hard not to question what kind of friends she had. Friends who had left her without a second thought, apparently, and who hadn’t worried about what had happened to her until Andrea’s father had started asking around.

“We figured she’d hit the jackpot. The Sheik was always a high roller. Handsome. He could get into the private rooms. Do you know how hard it is to get into that area?” she said, gripping the edges of the table as she leaned toward him to emphasize her point.

“I guess I’m going to find out,” he said and rose. “Thanks for your help.”

Miranda nodded, and Alex tossed some money on the table to cover their check.

He walked away and crossed the street to Lummus Park. The activity in its gardens and along the walkways had changed from the morning beachgoers to those who would be strolling along the strip to pick a place to eat before heading out to party later that night.

It was still too early for him to scope out the Widget, although he was eager to return there, and not just on account of his investigation into Andrea’s disappearance.

The demon had come to him in his dreams once again, but she had been more mortal this time. Looking way too much like the woman he had seen last night. He didn’t know if he should take that as an omen to avoid her because she’d be nothing but trouble.

Despite that bothersome possibility, she had awakened a different kind of need in his dreams—a desire to discover more about her. To find out why the demon who had been haunting him for months was suddenly pointing him in the direction of his mystery woman.

He popped open the doors on his Crossfire convertible, which was parked on the street across from the News Café where he had met Miranda.

With a quick glance at his watch, he slipped into the low-slung car, experiencing only a slight pull in his midsection in the area where he had been shot nearly a year earlier. He paused for a moment, pressing against the spot to tame the stitch in his muscles, and then lowered the top on the convertible. After a quick cruise up and down Ocean Drive to see who was out and about, he then headed back to his office to review his files and notes once again before returning to South Beach.

The problem with the DEA materials he had reviewed was that he didn’t recall seeing anyone in their extensive databases and papers who matched the general description of the man Andrea’s friends had dubbed “the Sheik.” That could mean that the man wasn’t as much of a player as Andrea and her friends had thought. But although the Sheik hadn’t made the DEA’s watch list, maybe the man had come to the attention of the local law-enforcement officers.

Which meant that it was time he arrange for a visit to the neighborhood police department and speak to those LEOs. Maybe the Sheik had crossed paths with them and they could provide some background information on the man and his associates.

But not tonight.

Tonight he had to scope out the clubs one more time.

He owed it to Dan to find the Sheik and hopefully Andrea.

He owed it to himself to find the mystery woman from his dreams. For too long he had lived without allowing himself the pleasure of a woman’s company. First because of his heartache over losing his ex-lover, Diana, to her vampire lover and more recently because of his commitment to his work.

There had been a challenge in his mystery woman’s eyes, almost daring him to come and play for a while. It reminded him of the demon in his dreams as she bent to taste his blood. Maybe accepting her dare would allow him a respite from the prison he had created for himself with his obligations to his job.

Alex decided to take up that challenge, if only for a short break from the duties he took so seriously. He knew his heartache would not be so easy to forget.

Stacia smoothed the slick bloodred fabric across the flat lines of her belly. The color was a shock against the paleness of her skin and the nearly ebony shade of her hair and eyes. The bright hue was unfamiliar. She usually favored black and leather.

The Miami humidity factored against the latter, and something about the locale had her tossing aside all the New York black. Appropriate since the reason for coming to Miami had been to exact a change in the tedium of her eternal life.

Satisfied with her appearance, Stacia left her room and exited hastily onto the veranda of the hotel.

The nighttime activity had picked up and dozens of people streamed by in front of the hotel. Dressed in their finery, they were like peacocks on display. She honed in on the energy of their life forces. Savored the differences she detected in their powers: young; not quite old; strong; stronger still.

This was no place for imperfection in this crowd.

A slightly familiar energy came near and she smiled, recognizing a man from the night before. While she had been trolling for last night’s catch, she had implanted a suggestion in him to return to this spot since he hadn’t been quite what she wanted but had possessed possibilities. Not as many possibilities as the other intriguing Cubano, but for now he would do.

The man approached. Tall and sleek. Broad shoulders covered in a jacket of expensive raw linen, creamy against the darker tones of his skin and hair. The man smiled as he took note of Stacia up on the veranda and slowed his pace.

He would be such a fine repast, Stacia thought, detecting the vibrant pulse of his life force. Imagining how she would sink her teeth into the long, elegant line of the stranger’s neck.

Stacia strengthened the push of her elder power, calling to the man to come to her. As he neared, their gazes converged but something there sent a jolt through Stacia.

The man’s eyes were so dark as to appear black, reminding her of Cassius’s gaze, the deceiving, empty gaze that had stolen so much from her millennia ago.

Stacia released her control over him and he shook his head as if suddenly awakening.

He did an about-face and relief washed over her. Funny, really. There were few things that could scare an elder of her age and power, and yet …

She had her own demons.

Demons she had kept hidden for incredibly long to avoid displaying her weaknesses.

In a world as difficult as the vampire realm, any hint of debility made her vulnerable to attack. Something she had avoided successfully for centuries.

Until New York City.

Until the wannabe humans in that vampire underworld had reminded her of her one weakness. Of the single need she had kept buried deep within her for centuries.

To be loved once again.

Driving those thoughts away, Stacia slinked down the steps of the hotel, intending to savor the coming of a Miami night.

She ambled across the street to Lummus Park, slowly making her way along the winding cement walkway that separated the gardens from the beach. The walkway was relatively quiet, although she passed a few couples meandering beneath the palms and sea-grape trees. An in-line skater whizzed past her, lithe leg muscles propelling him to his destination.

She admired his lean buttocks and broad upper body for only a moment before he skated out of sight.

Peering toward the ocean, the moonlight silvered the crests of the negligible waves washing against the shore. Illuminated the occasional human strolling along the Atlantic’s edge. She considered grabbing a snack down along the oceanfront, but the possibility of a chase through the sand would be too much effort tonight. Maybe some other night when she had to release some excess energy and would actually welcome a challenging hunt.

Stacia continued until the end of the path and then crossed the street once more, all the time checking out the offerings, both human and not, in the restaurants along the strip. The food selections were varied, from the expected Cuban offerings to traditional Italian and an assortment of Asian-fusion choices.

She’d had her taste of Cuban last night. The murderous happenings in Manhattan before she had left had her swearing off Asian. That cuisine would remind her too much of the Kiang-shi vampire that had killed a number of the undead and nearly revealed their vampire underworld to the humans.

Italian possibly? she thought, noticing a fine-looking specimen lingering near one establishment. Tall and lean, the young man was dressed in tailored black slacks and a designer shirt that caressed the elegant lines of his body. A mop of artfully highlighted dark blond hair shifted as he bent to review the restaurant menu, straining the cloth of his pants against a lovely rounded bottom.

She approached, the thrum of her vampire desire riding high, and he lifted his head and swiveled it slowly in her direction. His blue-eyed gaze brightened, welcoming her.

Success, Stacia thought.

Chapter 4

She’s here, Alex realized, catching a glimpse of her through the crowd in the Widget.

The captivating woman from the night before.

As he moved to the edge of the dance floor, he finally had a moment to see all of her. All mouthwatering woman in a sexy red dress that displayed her lusciously curved body. A petite body, he realized as he neared.

Up until then, there had been something so larger-than-life about her that he hadn’t appreciated that she barely reached midchest.

He walked the few steps until he stood before her, tilting his head down to meet her inquiring gaze. A deep, almost fathomless gaze, and this close, he confirmed his earlier suspicions that she looked totally like the demon in his dreams. That realization was so powerful that he almost reeled back as if struck, but somehow he controlled his reaction.

Her gaze narrowed and skipped across his face before the ghost of a smile came to her lips.

“Do we know each other?” she said, but a bright stain of color erupted on her face, and she shook her head and looked away.

He didn’t know what to expect from his demon’s doppelgänger. Certainly not such embarrassed femininity that was so at odds with the attitude he had witnessed from the vampire in his dreams and on the night he had almost died.

But then he reminded himself that one was a figment of his imagination while the woman standing before him …

The woman before him was real and sexy and not a monster.

Almost as if to verify that, he touched her, tucking his index finger beneath her chin, but as he did so, a jolt of preternatural power surged through his body, making him pull back.

She lifted her head then. Slowly. Regally, as if his simple touch had somehow violated her rank or station in life. The earlier blush vanished and hardness crept onto her features.

“Do we know each other?” she asked once again, and this time her voice held a determined note of command.

A stain of power difficult to ignore.

“I’m not sure,” he answered honestly, uncertain of whether or not meeting in his dreams would count. He was sure that she couldn’t be the vampire he had met on the night he had almost died.

The answer seemed to satisfy her, since she gave a quick dip of her head. With a flick of her wrist, she sent a very obvious suggestion to her young date to disappear, which he did, scurrying away like a whipped dog.

Alex watched the young man leave and said, “Harsh.”

The end Stacia had envisioned for her date later that night was far more callous, but she contained that reply and instead said, “Would you like to dance?”

She surprised herself by asking. By the lame way she had responded to him, stammering and tossing out the most inane of questions in much the same way she had been approached hundreds of times during her long life.

And then there had been that simple touch of his hand on her chin …

His touch had reached deep into her core. As if a connection had existed between them in some other time or life. Unlikely that there was a tie, but the depth of her response was unusual.

Men rarely affected her so. Maybe “never affected her so” might have been more accurate.

Since her fateful engagement to Cassius, she had closed herself off to the wiles of men. But there was something about this man that was both familiar and demanding.

“I’d love to dance,” he finally said.

Without further prompting, he took a step closer to her, began to shift to the music. Moving his body to the pulsing beats, he teased her with an occasional brush of his body until she had to have more. She eliminated the distance between them, pressing against him. Delighting in all his hard muscle and the beat of his heart. Inhaling his enticing masculine scent.

She buried her head against the gap of skin exposed by the V of his shirt to savor that scent. Took a quick lick of his skin because she needed it, as if she’d had a bite of him in the past and been denied sustenance for too long.

As the taste of him registered, vivid images came to her of where she had seen him before, lying nearly dead in an abandoned Manhattan apartment. How they were bound to each other.

His blood.

His sweat.

The tears dashing down his face as he believed that his beloved Diana was dying. That he was dying.

Only he wasn’t dead, and neither was Diana.

He had survived that fateful night in New York. The night she had given him her vampire kiss and provided the possibility of surviving what should have been mortal wounds.

She sucked in a breath and jerked away, shocked by the insight. Losing her normally unflappable restraint over the power that allowed her thoughts, her visions, to wash over him.

He stiffened beside her as the turbulence from her mind bathed him in her memories. Shaking his head as if by doing so he could free himself of their dominion, he then relented and met her gaze.

“It wasn’t just a nightmare,” he said.

Stacia reined in her emotions, wrenching back the memory of that night. The taste of his blood and sweat. The too-human tears that she had thought she no longer could shed and the love for another that had been visible on his face even as he lay dying.

No, not dying, she cautioned herself and forced a wave of her vampire power to control him and curb his emotions, but surprisingly, she sensed him pushing back. Fighting her dominion.

“I want to know the truth,” he said, daring to place a hand at her waist once more.

“No, you don’t,” she said, finding herself in a rare situation. Those conjoined memories involved caring beyond which she was capable of either understanding or giving.

“I need to know,” he repeated, the strength of his conviction strong.

So powerful that it challenged her rule over him.

She wasn’t used to being defied. Only the most powerful of vampires would dare, and those who had done so in the past had usually ended up dead, but she didn’t want to waste this intriguing man.

At least, not just yet.

Leaning close, she allowed the tips of her breasts to brush against his chest and got on tiptoe until her lips were barely an inch from his.

“You want to know?” she said and released only a scintilla of her elder power, rousing desire in him in order to both punish his disobedience and entice him into cooperating.

A shudder worked across his body at her actions and awakened a sharp arousal. His erection pressed into her belly, and he wrapped an arm around her waist, bent and whispered into her ear, “What are you doing to me?”

“You wanted to know so stop fighting this. Allow yourself to enjoy it,” she said against the side of his face, slipping her hands through his short-cropped hair. Enjoying the sleekness of the strands on her fingers.

“Enjoy it? Do all your men enjoy it?” Alex cupped her buttocks and pressed her ever tighter, caught up in the spell of her power. Groaning as she moved her hips back and forth across his erection, but even as he did so, he battled the need pulling at him. Fought against her control.

It wasn’t real, he told himself.

She wasn’t real. She was a demon. A vampire. Or maybe he was crazy. Maybe he was insane, because vampires did not exist.

“This is empty. Dead,” he said and yanked away from her, clearly surprising her as the power holding him in its grasp vanished like a soap bubble in the wind.

She stared at him, her face reflecting a myriad of emotions.

Bewilderment.

Anger.

Yearning.

The last startled him, but he masked his own turbulent feelings as she asked, “Who are you?”

“Alex Garcia,” he said, so befuddled by her that he failed to provide the alias he used when on assignment. He cautiously held his hand out in introduction, almost afraid of touching her once again.

She glanced at his hand, seemingly as wary, then finally took hold as she replied, “Stacia.”

“Stacia. No last name?”

She shook her head. “No last name.”

“Like Madonna and Cher. Very eighties of you,” he said, dragging up some humor in the hopes of dispelling the rather uncomfortable moment they were sharing.

She chuckled at his jest and shook her head, then glanced up at him, obviously intrigued. Just as he was fascinated on various levels: the dying agent who had imagined the demon’s kiss and needed to know the truth about that night and the man who crazily found her infinitely beautiful and sexy.

“Would you like to go somewhere more quiet? Somewhere we can talk?”

A hesitant but beguiling smile came to her lips. “I’d like that very much.”

Chapter 5

The shop—an eclectic hole-in-the-wall offering tapas, wine, coffee and pastries—was a short walk away from Lincoln Drive on the fringe of Española Way.

They had been silent as they strolled toward the historic district. His hand rode at the small of her back. The pressure of it was light, although she felt it as strongly as if she were chained to him.

At the shop he held the door for her and she entered. With a quick greeting to the waiter, Alex ushered her toward a table for two at the back, close to a brick wall and beside the plate-glass windows that made up the exterior wall of the establishment. He offered her the seat where her back would be exposed, not that it mattered to her. With her powers she could sense danger coming.

It clearly made a difference to him, she thought, watching as he eased into the chair opposite her with the wall at his back.

“You come here often?” Before he could answer, a waiter approached and offered them menus, then left.

“I meet my clients here on occasion,” he said, and was about to pick up the menu but paused and narrowed his gaze. “If I’m willing to accept that you’re a vam—”

“I am even though I sense you still do not truly believe,” Stacia replied, able to read the doubts swirling in his mind. Although she didn’t know why, she wanted to shock him. Shake away the seeming calm he was exhibiting outwardly. “I eat food on occasion. People a lot more frequently.”

His color paled a bit beneath the olive tones of his skin, but other than that, there was nothing to give away his reaction. “Do you mind if I choose, then? The food, that is.”

Stacia chuckled, admiring his bravado. In other circumstances, she would understand that real bravery didn’t rest beneath the surface, but in his case she knew differently. He was a man who didn’t run from danger, which could explain his reaction to her.

“Please do while I scope out a possible dessert,” she said, coquettishly glancing around the room, wishing to provoke his calm about her vampire state.

Alex had no doubt she was seriously trying to discomfit him, but he refused to buy into her game. He had already had a taste of the unusual and inexplicable power of which she seemed capable, so her actions now were more like those of a cat toying with a mouse.

He didn’t much care for her games.

Still, he remained captivated while recognizing that such attraction might not necessarily be good for him. Even if he refused to believe that she was a vampire, he couldn’t deny that she seemed to possess powers he could not immediately explain.

After the waiter returned to the table, Alex placed an order for some cheeses, an assortment of tapas and a bottle of red wine. The wine arrived well before the food, and after the waiter poured it, Stacia picked up her glass and offered a toast.

“To friends in common,” she said, before taking a sip.

Alex swigged down a healthy amount and nodded. “I’m assuming you mean Diana and Ryder.”

“I do, but Diana was more than a friend to you, wasn’t she?”

Alex met her gaze full-on and answered truthfully because he sensed that she would be able discern a lie. “We were lovers back in college. And you?”

“Not lovers yet, but I keep trying,” she said with a wicked grin that created havoc with his innards and had him chuckling at her cojones. He’d always had a thing for women with brass.

“So why are you here in Miami, then? Manhattan seems like a better location to accomplish that objective.”

She made a moue with her mouth, swirled the wine around and averted her gaze by developing an intense interest in the fingers of ruby-red wine along the edges of the glass. “Diana and Ryder aren’t the kind for threesomes. Besides, things got … tedious in New York.”

Tedious? he wondered. The last word he would use to describe anything involving Diana Reyes, his FBI agent ex-lover, was tedious. It made him wonder what had really driven Stacia from Manhattan. Something radical, if he accepted that she was a vampire of intense power. Not that he did.

He was about to press her on the comment, but the waiter returned with their order and placed the various tapas in the center of the table. Alex invited Stacia to sample the dishes, but she demurred.

“You first, please. It’s really not what satisfies an elder like me,” she admitted, even while taking another sip of the wine, which had him wondering if vampires could get drunk. Of course, that had him wondering why he was even considering such a thing as the existence of vampires.

“Was it you that night? In New York?” he asked, deciding to press for anything more concrete to substantiate her claims and satisfy his own desire to find out what had really happened that night.

His hand was resting on the tabletop, and she covered it with hers and softly said, “What do you think?”

Before he could answer, another rush of unnatural power swept over him, filling his body with need and his brain with images—vivid, almost-real memories of that night.

Her memories.

He sucked in a breath, battling the visions. Sweat trickled down the back of his neck from the effort until she whispered softly and her words echoed in his head.

Let me in, Alex. Don’t fight it. Let me in.

He relented. The rush of her thoughts pummeled his mind, invading it, but her emotions rushed in, as well.

Her rage as she entered the room and viewed the carnage. The two dead CDA members on the ground. He and Diana both near death from their wounds.

She was angry because, as an immortal, she understood the value of life, maybe more so than those with a finite existence.

As she knelt before him, his tears yanked pity from her. Pity at his pain as he contemplated that his ex-lover might be dying, coupled with his own regret at what might have been. At the life he would not have.

But then another sentiment overwhelmed those human emotions—the hunger to feed as she leaned close and tasted him.

Suddenly, that emotion evaporated, chased away by unexpected reactions: sorrow and need.

He sensed her despair mingled with a long-denied desire for love.

Her sharp gasp at his discovery broke the mental connection she had established.

As their gazes met, he realized that she had allowed him to see more than she had wanted to reveal. That she had exposed a piece of herself she had probably kept sheltered from others for quite a long time. Maybe she had even kept those emotions buried deep within herself because to acknowledge them was dangerous.

In her gaze he saw what she expected him to do with that revelation—that he use that vulnerability against her. Maybe even abuse that unintended admission, it occurred to him, sensing that beneath her bluster she had suffered in her life. That she wasn’t as all-powerful as she wished for him to believe.

But he also sensed that, despite the hardship, she had somehow survived and possessed great mental fortitude.

Her strength proved even more enticing to him than her attractive physical shell. Because of that, he would not abuse the weakness she had exposed to him. Gently he took her hand into his and softly said, “Thank you.”

“Thank you?” she repeated, clearly shocked by his actions.

“Yes, thank you. Since that night I’ve doubted my sanity at times. I’ve relived every minute through nightmares. More often than was good. And I’ve suffered as I wondered if I was losing my mind,” he confessed, offering her his own weaknesses.

Would she abuse that disclosure or provide him yet another reason to be interested in her? he wondered.

“There are scarier things than dreams that can come to you at night,” she said, with-drawing her hand from his, clearly unused to such gentleness or gratitude.

“Like you?” he challenged, arching one brow as he took another sip of his wine.

His comment dragged a devilish smile to her full lips.

“You should be afraid of me,” she said, but it was almost as if she was trying to remind herself of what she was since whatever connection had occurred between them had somehow lessened her scariness factor.

“I’ll try to remember that,” he joked, earning a broadening of her smile.

She had a beautiful one, but he somehow knew it didn’t come easily. It didn’t fit the persona she preferred to show to the world. A persona she had likely adopted to protect herself from the earlier hurt she had inadvertently revealed to him.

But the smile fit this human persona she was showing him quite nicely.

Picking up a piece of cheese and topping it with a paper-thin slice of serrano ham, he brought it to her lips. Seemingly understanding that he wasn’t going to press further about the fateful night of their first meeting, she opened her mouth and accepted his offering, but as she did so, she playfully bit his thumb and said, “Tasty.”

He grinned, and when she mimicked his actions, presenting him with a bite of cheese and ham, he grasped her hand and accepted the food. Licked the tip of her index finger before sucking it into his mouth.

“Tastier,” he said, playing her game.

Stacia barely controlled the shiver that worked through her body and the painful need his actions roused.

“Why are you doing this?” She was confused by what he thought he would accomplish, as well as sensing this was one human who was going to be quite difficult to control.

“Because I don’t believe in monsters or things that go bump in the night.”

He was testing her, not that she would be stupid enough to morph into her demon in so public a place.

“Maybe when we finish, we should go somewhere private so I can eliminate any doubts you might have.”

“Maybe” was all he said as he picked up an olive and popped it into his mouth. Followed that up with a piece of bread and cheese before he said, “What were you doing tonight at the Widget?”

“Seasoning a prospective meal,” she answered honestly, needing to create distance between them because she was feeling too exposed. “What were you doing there?”

Alex sipped his wine. “Looking for a man.”

“You didn’t strike me as a switch-hitter.” Stacia chuckled and then took an olive from the assorted tapas on the table and popped it into her mouth.

After a hearty laugh, Alex leaned closer and said, “The man might have a connection to a friend’s missing daughter.”

So he had been on the job, she thought, wondering what he did here in Miami. Whether it was the same kind of work that had nearly gotten him killed in New York. Realizing that discretion was necessary as long as they were in public, she also shifted closer and asked as softly as she could, “Is it part of your assignment here?”

“It’s part of what I do.” The silence that followed those few words confirmed to her that there was little else he could say without compromising his position. Because she didn’t want the night to end since she was enjoying his presence, she asked, “Did you grow up in Miami?”

“Born and raised, although my parents came here from Cuba.”

“Ah, Cuba. It was a beautiful place the last time I visited.” She didn’t add that her visit had been in the 1600s, but somehow he understood not to ask.

“And you? Where were you—”

“Lived and died in Rome,” she immediately answered, hardening his earlier smile into a tight, thin line.

“If I believe what all logic says, I shouldn’t—”

“Believe,” she urged, understanding his conflict and the angst it brought him in his nightmares. Believing was a first step to dealing with all that upset and accepting the truth about what she was.

About what had really happened that night. Maybe then he could drive those bad dreams from his mind.

“If I believe what you say as true, then I guess it would seem right to ask how old you were when … you know, when it happened?”

“It” being her turning, she assumed. Her death as a human and resurrection as a vampire. But it had been quite a long time since she had told that tale and she wasn’t quite ready to repeat it tonight. Especially not to him. He had already touched parts of her psyche that had been closely guarded for centuries.

“That’s a long story that I think would be better told at some other time.”

Alex appeared to accept her reluctance and backed away. “Some other time, then,” he said and motioned to the tapas remaining on the table. “Would you like a bit more? If not, I’ll walk you home.”

She shook her head. “That gallant gesture is wasted on me. I’m more than capable—”

“Of protecting yourself. I’m sure you are, but a gentleman always walks a lady home.”

Since it seemed clear she wanted no further sustenance from the goodies he had ordered, he tossed some bills on the table and rose, offering her his arm.

To his surprise—and hers—she accepted it.

Chapter 6

Bright and early the next morning, Alex was at his desk, perusing the inches-thick file with information the DEA had gathered over the years on the activities in the Widget.

Unfortunately, even with all their information, they had been unable to take any kind of action against the owners of the club or any of the suspects involved in the criminal activities at the location.

And what a smorgasbord of illegal activities, he thought as he flipped through the reports.

Drugs. Illegal gambling. Prostitution and a number of missing women who had been known to frequent the Widget.

The last brought him upright in his chair. Maybe the suspects at the club were involved in more than just providing favors. Maybe they were also luring young girls into the business or even selling them, either of which could account for Andrea McAnn’s alleged disappearance at the club. But of all the missing women, only Andrea had last been seen in the Widget. The others had apparently disappeared from a few of the nearby clubs.

“You seem incredibly absorbed in that file, Garcia,” said Carlos Orendain, the head of his department, as he exited his office.

Orendain sauntered to Alex’s workstation, thick forearms crossed against the even more muscular expanse of his chest. Since his chief barely topped five foot seven and his head seemed to rest immediately on his shoulders, all the muscle made him look like a squat fireplug.

Alex tossed the papers he had been reading onto his desk and leaned back in his chair, seemingly nonchalant. Orendain had a tendency to be controlling with his agents and their cases. He would never approve of Alex deciding to investigate the club unless it appeared as if Orendain had made the decision. With that in mind, he said, “The Widget seems like an interesting place, Chief. Lots going on there.”

“Is that why you paid a visit last night?” Orendain countered.

He hid his surprise by chuckling and shaking his head. “Hell, no. I met a woman the other day and was hoping to run into her again.”

And this morning he had been busy contemplating what he would do about Stacia and her claims that she was a vampire. Claims reinforced by his dreams and the scattered memories of the night he had almost died. But then again, he had been in such pain, physically and emotionally, his mind scattered from the loss of blood, that he still didn’t know whether or not to believe what he thought he had seen. The fact that Stacia’s claims could be true somehow didn’t wipe out his fascination about her based on what little personal nuggets he had gleaned from their meeting.

Orendain plopped himself, or at least part of himself, on one corner of Alex’s desk. “What did you think?”

Alex shrugged, trying to appear noncommittal. “About the woman? She was rather … unique. We spent some time—”

“Cut the bullshit. We both know you’ve been visiting some of our hot spots even though you were supposed to be on modified assignment.”

Alex couldn’t argue so he cut to the chase. “Just keeping my cover intact in case you decide to let me go back undercover, Chief.”

His boss considered him through narrowed eyes, his head tilted to the side, clearly attempting to discern if the subservient pose was a ruse. When his chief’s eyes widened with surprise and undisguised glee, Orendain said, “This is a change, Garcia.”

Definitely, he thought. In the past they had always been at odds because of Orendain’s nature and his own. Their last big battle had been about Alex’s agreeing to the undercover assignment up in New York. His boss had warned him about the mission, and in a way, Orendain had been right.

The assignment had chewed him up and spit him up into pieces he was still trying to put back together.

“I learned a thing or two in New York,” Alex admitted with another nonchalant shrug as he looked down at the papers on his desk.

A bigger man might have held back, but Orendain was big only in terms of muscle. “Hate to say I told you so, but—”

“You were right that the assignment would show me what I was made of,” he said, not that his chief would take that statement in a positive light. He kept to himself that the mission had also proved to him that he was a man who held others above himself. A man who accepted the pain of losing someone he loved. Twice, because he knew that someone else could make her happier.

“Damn straight,” his boss replied with some relish and jerked his finger in the direction of the reports on the club. “I know the doctors cleared you for duty, but are you ready for an undercover assignment?”

Alex nodded, picked up the papers on his desk and held them up in the air. “There’s a lot going on at this club. It would be quite a coup for you if we found a way to shut it down or brought in some of the bigger dealers.”

“You finally understand, Garcia,” Orendain said with a smug smile. “See what else you can find out. See if we have enough for you to investigate it further,” his boss added, rising from his desk and swaggering away.

As he watched him go, Alex thought, I do understand. If finding Dan’s daughter meant sucking up to Orendain, he was willing to go along with it.

Others above self, he thought, opening the file and turning toward his computer. If he was going to convince Orendain that he should investigate what was happening at the club, he would need a lot more than Dan’s missing daughter to do it.

Stacia roused in the late afternoon with an odd sense of lethargy.

She wrote it off to being unable to feed last night thanks to her meeting with Alex Garcia.

Alex had certainly been looking far better than he had the first time she had run into him. Then again, he had been on death’s door, bleeding from a couple of gunshot wounds and barely conscious.

She was surprised that he had remembered seeing her.

She had assumed that he had been too far gone to recall their encounter, but he had apparently remembered quite a bit about that meeting. And he had clearly seen her demon face. But from their talk last night, it was obvious that he still doubted his recollections even though she had made no bones about confirming his suspicions.

Of course, seeing was believing, only …

His audacity was enticing. It had been some time since anyone had actually dared to fight back against her power. And his attraction to her was unmistakable, despite his trying to deny it.

Real human attraction, she acknowledged, untainted by the thrall of vampire power.

For the first time in a long time, she could see a temporary respite from her ennui by spending some time with the good-looking law-enforcement officer. She could even picture herself sharing a pleasant interlude with Alex. After all, he was quite handsome in that Latin kind of way with his dark hair, olive skin and amazingly green eyes.

As for his body …

They hadn’t had much of a chance to dance last night, but she suspected he would be able to easily handle carrying her with those broad shoulders. Build her passion with those mobile hips and bring her pleasure with that engaging mouth while that intense gaze absorbed every last little detail.

But just to make sure she was not wrong about all that he could provide …

She had decided to put Alex to the test tonight. Push him to the limit and see how he would respond. She had no hesitation as to where to find him—she was certain he would be back in the club tonight. He had said as much last night when he had dropped her off at her door, ever the gentleman until she had grabbed hold of his shirt and hauled him close for a hard, demanding kiss. They had both been shaking by the time he had pulled away, and for a moment, she had considered using her elder power to bring him under control, but only for a moment. For the first time in centuries, she wanted to explore the attraction between them, free and clear of the vampire’s stain.

First, however, she had to feed. But the blood-bank bags she had in the minifridge would do little to satisfy the hunger she had worked up by skipping last night’s meal.

With the worst of the afternoon sun gone, she could venture outside where there would be dozens of humans walking around. A forceful mental suggestion and a darkened corner somewhere would provide her the vamp equivalent of fast food.

Needing that sustenance, she dressed as if for a jog and made her way to the lobby. One attractive young woman, similarly dressed, was exiting the hotel via a side door.

Stacia recalled that there was a small building that housed a gym at the back of the hotel grounds. Following the female, she confirmed that the runner was going to the gym.

Stacia followed.

The young woman entered the building with Stacia just a few steps behind her. The gym was empty of people. Only a few pieces of equipment and a television were in the room. Immediately the woman took a spot on the treadmill, but before she could push a button, Stacia was sending the runner a message.

Come with me, Stacia commanded and held out her hand.

The woman had little willpower. She faced Stacia like a lamb to slaughter and then stepped off the treadmill. She wasn’t as young as she first appeared, Stacia realized now that the woman was closer. In her mid-thirties if Stacia had to guess, not that she was all that good at estimating mortal ages. After nearly two thousand years of immortal life, humans in the twenty-to-forty category all seemed to blur together.

But the woman was fit and fairly attractive.

Her body had the long lean, lines of a runner, with B-cup breasts that were so far defying gravity beneath the confines of the sports bra she wore.

Come, Stacia urged again and increased the force of her elder power until a semiglazed look slipped onto the woman’s face.

“That’s it,” Stacia nearly purred, and the woman eased her hand into Stacia’s.

With a gentle tug, Stacia urged her toward the back of the gym and away from the glass doors facing the hotel’s gardens. There was an odd jag in the wall there, hiding the entrance to a supply room. Stacia urged the woman into that hidey-hole and pressed her against the door of the supply room. Raising her hand, she caressed the smooth line of the woman’s jaw.

“Who are you?” the woman managed to ask despite Stacia’s control.

Stacia leaned close, brushed a kiss across the women’s lips and said, “Someone who can give you great pleasure.”

With those words, she unleashed even more of her elder power and the woman gasped, her body caught up in the ardor that Stacia called forth in her. As Stacia examined the woman’s body, she saw that her nipples had gone hard and the aroma of the arousal brought on by the surge of vampire rule perfumed the air.

“Enjoy,” she said, cupping the woman’s chin with her thumb and forefinger to expose her neck.

“Touch yourself,” Stacia whispered against the shell of her captive’s ear and the woman complied, reaching up to caress her own breasts.

Poor thing might as well get some enjoyment from this, Stacia thought. Besides, a little sexual stimulation always gave the blood a nice flavor, she thought as she inched up on tiptoe and allowed the demon to emerge.

A tremor of need slinked across Stacia’s body as her fangs burst forth and the world around her exploded into almost painful brilliance.

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