Thrilling reviews for Rhyannon Byrd’s PRIMAL INSTINCT series from Mills & Boon®

“Byrd successfully combines a haunting love story with complex world-building.”

—Publishers Weekly on Edge of Hunger

“Ms Byrd had me first intrigued and then spellbound from the first page to the last.”

—Joyfully Reviewed on Edge of Danger

“[Byrd] serves up plenty of action and passion that won’t be denied … Great stuff!”

—RT Book Reviews on Edge of Desire

“This is a seriously sensual story with taut action and a plot that doesn’t let up.”

—RT Book Reviews on Touch of Seduction

“This is an ideal blend of suspense, romance, action and intrigue, all set within an amazing paranormal world.”

—RT Book Reviews on Touch of Surrender

Dear Reader,

I can’t believe this is it—with the release of Rush of Pleasure, we’ve reached the final chapter in the PRIMAL INSTINCT series. I just wanted to take this moment to thank you for your incredible support. I’ve been looking forward to writing Noah’s book and loved seeing his relationship with Willow unfold. Forced to fight for his very survival, Noah needed a woman who was strong but tender. One who could stand up to him but who could also understand him and help him find happiness. Theirs is a story full of dark passions, and one I hope will hold a place in your heart.

Wishing you all much love and happiness!

Rhy

Rush of

Pleasure

Rhyannon Byrd

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For my three little sisters—Nikki, Amy and Crystall.

Here’s to the memories that always make me smile: The Three Amigos, 4th of July parties at Dave and Lisa’s, The Princess Bride, South Park, the infamous buttered popcorn incident in Carlsbad,

and last but not least … “One More Time!”

I love you guys and miss you bunches!

CHAPTER ONE

The hotter the pleasure … the sweeter the burn.

Destiny is what you are supposed to do in life. Fate is what kicks you in the ass to make you do it.

—Henry Miller

Sacred, Louisiana

THE END OF the world was a strange motivator, providing the kind of impetus that could make a man do things he’d sworn he would never be caught doing. Like coming back to places he’d vowed he’d never return to … Or seeking out people and memories he knew were best left to the past. The problem, of course, was that the past had ways of sneaking up on a guy.

In cases like this, it could even make you feel as if you were making the biggest mistake of your life.

As Noah Winston walked inside Broussard’s, the rickety bayou bar where he’d worked as a teenager, that’s exactly how he felt. Like a man walking the plank, heading toward his doom. And in Noah’s case, that doom came in the form of a woman. A woman who just so happened to be from one of the craziest families the state of Louisiana had ever known, and who, incidentally, also happened to be a too-powerful, too-stubborn, pain-in-the-ass caste of witch.

His best chance of surviving this visit in one piece was to get the information he needed, and then get the hell out of Dodge before that particular hellion ever set eyes on him. The faster, the better. If he were lucky, she’d never even know he’d been there.

Despite that comforting thought, a clammy, uneasy feeling crept over his skin as he made his way into the dim interior of the bar, the door sliding shut behind him. A bead of sweat snaked slowly down his spine while chills spread over his arms, the whirring blades of the ceiling fan swaying precariously over his head doing little to battle the oppressive heat. At one o’clock in the afternoon, the business was deserted but for the two beer drinkers playing pool near the back wall and the towering brute lurking behind the till, polishing shot glasses that looked absurdly small in his beefy hands. The bartender eyed him with a look of bored indifference, until he caught sight of his pale blue eyes. Noah took a quick sniff, his heightened sense of smell alerting him to the fact that the guy was no more “normal” than he was. A grizzly-shifter, if he was reading the scent right.

Noah might have been more or less human, but that “less” part of the equation was becoming more evident with each day that went by. With every passing hour, his senses were becoming sharper, allowing him to interpret the world around him in a way that was more monster than man. His human self, it seemed, had become another casualty of the war that he and his friends were currently waging against an ancient evil named the Casus. Fortunately, Noah and his buddies, a group of shape-shifters and vampires called the Watchmen, had finally managed to defeat the majority of the monsters nearly two months ago back in May. But the Casus leader, Anthony Calder, had mysteriously disappeared at the height of the battle, before Noah could kill him. They didn’t know where Calder was, but Noah had a good idea of who he was with. He also knew the bastard wasn’t going to stop until he got what he wanted, and Noah was willing to die to keep him from getting it.

But that was going to be a battle for another day. For the moment, he was after the solution to a different problem. One that was less personal, but no less important. And one he knew he could help with, if he managed to stay a step ahead of Calder.

As if aggravated by the thought of that particular Casus, his arm ached with a renewed wave of pain, the scar left from Calder’s fangs throbbing with a dull pulse. Though the injuries he’d sustained on the day Calder had been snatched from his grasp were nearly healed, Noah still didn’t feel … right. Too many changes were taking place inside him, his system in a constant state of flux that often left him jittery and tense. Or maybe that was just his current bitter outlook on life. Either way, he was a guy who others went out of their way to avoid these days. One who no longer even tried to hide the raw, constant burn of worry weighing heavily in his gut.

Heading toward the bar, Noah kept his gaze locked on the giant behind the till. The guy set down another shot glass, slapped the dish towel over his shoulder, then braced his beefy hands against the scarred but gleaming wooden counter. Thick, graying brows drew together in a deep scowl over his suspicious gaze. “You thirsty, Casus? We don’t welcome your kind here, but you can take something to go.”

“I’m not a Casus.” Noah fought to keep his tone easy, knowing it wasn’t going to do him any good if he started shit with the shape-shifter. “And I don’t want any trouble. I just need some information.”

“Not Casus?” The guy snorted. “You looked at your eyes in a mirror lately, son?”

Noah ignored the question. Thanks to his maternal bloodline, he had the same ice-blue eyes as the Casus, but he wasn’t one of them. Not yet, at any rate. “I’m looking for Jessie Broussard,” he said, making an effort to sound patient. “Do you know where I can find her?”

The scowl deepened. “What’s yer business with Jessie?”

“I need her help.”

“S’that right?” the guy drawled.

“I’m willing to pay for the information.” He reached into his back pocket, pulled out a wad of folded bills and slapped them on the counter. The scent of the money filled the air, sharp in his nose, but the shifter didn’t so much as blink.

Leaning closer, the guy eyed Noah with a dark, steady stare. “Do I look like the sort to be bribed?”

“You don’t want the money, fine.” His voice was tight, his irritation rising like the heat spilling in off the murky waters of the bayou that lurked just beyond the bar’s entrance. “But I’m not leaving until I’ve spoken with Jessie. It’s a matter of life and death.”

“For who? You?”

Noah clenched his jaw as he pocketed the money. “Let’s just say that I’m here on behalf of the Watchmen.”

A gritty laugh rumbled from the giant’s chest. “Those crazy-ass shifters? Hell, what makes ya think I care what they’re up to?”

“Because a helluva lot of people are going to die if you don’t.”

The seconds stretched out, marked only by the whirring of the ceiling fan and the distant sounds of the pool game, while he stared the older man down.

Finally, the shifter muttered, “You can find her out back. Last cabin on the left.”

“Thanks.”

“Hell, don’t thank me yet.” Laugh lines crinkled at the corners of the bartender’s eyes as he smiled. “Knowing Jessie, she’s liable to shoot ya before you get yer first word out.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” he grated under his breath, turning and heading for the door. It was common knowledge that the Winstons and Broussards had never gotten along. The human residents in Sacred believed the decades-old disagreement had been spawned by a particular piece of land that bordered both their properties. But those locals who were a part of the ancient clans—nonhuman races who lived hidden among the humans—knew the truth. That truth being that Chastain witches generally disliked any species that fed on blood, such as the Deschanel, or vampires. And the only species they hated more than the vamps were the Casus.

The Broussards didn’t care that Noah’s family was human. Nor did they care that the only reason the Winstons had Casus blood running through their veins was because one of his ancestors had been unfortunate enough to be raped by one of the monsters a millennia ago. They distrusted the Winstons’ ice-blue eyes, and they feared the day when the Casus would escape their immortal prison called Meridian and return to this world, using families like Noah’s as their human hosts. It wasn’t a fair prejudice, but was one that had been bred into Jessie’s grandparents, her parents and into Jessie herself.

About the time that Noah turned sixteen, the local sheriff had had enough of their constant bickering and proclaimed it was time the two families learned to get along. Jessie was ordered to give Noah a part-time job at the bar, which she’d inherited from her father, and her nephew Harris had been ordered to help out at Noah’s grandfather’s garage on the weekends. Though it took a few months, and a couple of brawls, he and Harris had surprised everyone by breaking the legacy of distrust and becoming friends. The hostilities between the families had cooled for a time—but Jessie had still scared the crap out of him.

Heading around the side of the building, toward the cabins that had been built in the woods behind the bar more than a hundred years ago, Noah figured the once ramshackle cabins must have been renovated before Jessie moved into one of them. The lady might have been one egg short of a dozen, even for a Chastain witch, but he remembered Jessie as a silver-haired woman who enjoyed things exceptionally neat and clean.

Wondering just how loudly she was going to screech when she set eyes on him today, Noah set off down the winding path that wove through the lush woods. He told himself he wasn’t afraid of Jessie Broussard, but an uneasy feeling still burned in his gut like bad whiskey. His instincts urged him to turn and get the hell out of there, but he couldn’t do it. Desperate times called for desperate measures, and he’d already wasted too much damn time as it was. He’d known for months now that this visit needed to happen, and yet, he’d put it off. Dragged his feet like an old woman. Yeah, he’d sent letters, but he hadn’t really expected the Broussards to respond to them. And he’d known that trying to email or call would be pointless. The Broussards had always trusted modern contraptions about as much as they’d trust a cranky cottonmouth. Twelve years might have passed since he was last in Sacred, but there were some things that just never changed.

So, yeah, he’d known this visit was unavoidable. But he’d stalled, because he hadn’t wanted to spend what might be his last days scraping off emotional scabs that had never quite managed to heal. Crap like that sucked. Left you raw. Bleeding. And he already had enough problems to deal with.

Following the path farther into the woods, Noah lifted his face as a cool breeze fluttered its way through the trees and he pulled in a slow breath that had him instantly jerking to attention.

There was something there. Something rich and sweet beneath the verdant scents of the forest. Something primal and female that called to those increasingly visceral parts of him. But despite the instinctive hardening of his body and the almost primitive impulse to hunt and take, he knew he had to maintain control. Damn it, he knew that scent. Knew precisely who owned it.

Willow.

With his heartbeat pounding in his ears and a low curse on his lips, Noah scanned his surroundings, knowing beyond a doubt that Willow Broussard was there in the forest with him. That mouthwatering scent was his first clue. The delicate little hand suddenly whipping around his shoulder, pressing a sharp blade against his throat was his second.

With her other hand fisting the collar of his T-shirt, wrenching his head back, she spoke quietly in his ear. “What the hell are you doing here, Winston?”

He choked back a frustrated growl and forced his body to remain still, unwilling to fight her for his freedom. She sounded irritated, but she wasn’t going to kill him in cold blood.

At least, he didn’t think she would. They hadn’t parted on the best of terms twelve years ago. No way to know how she felt about him now—but he figured it would be wise to play it safe. Especially for a guy with luck as crappy as his had always been.

“I asked you a question, Noah.” The soft weight of her body pressed closer against his back, making it damn hard for him to concentrate. He could feel the sexy shape of her breasts, the tightness of her nipples, and knew damn well that she wasn’t wearing a bra. Sweat broke out across his forehead that had nothing to do with heat and everything to do with the woman breathing into his ear. “What are you doing here?” she repeated.

It was a mistake to pull in another deep breath through his nose, his temperature spiking when her scent flooded his senses, his brain derailed by the feverish surge of lust ripping dangerously through his system. Determined to stay in control, he managed to rasp, “I need … to talk to your aunt. To Jessie.”

Her low, husky laugh was one of the sexiest damn things he’d ever heard, and he wondered how sick it was that he had a hard-on for a woman who was holding a knife to his throat.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” she drawled.

“I’m not. I swear. You know I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t important.”

Silence, punctuated only by their sharp breathing and the rustling trees, and then she muttered a quiet, colorful curse and lowered the knife. She was taking a step back as he turned to face her. He tried to give himself time to prepare, but there was no way to hide the fact he was floored. Damn near knocked on his ass by the sight of her, just like he’d been the first time he noticed her transformation from a scrawny, troublesome tomboy into a beautiful girl. It’d been a sweet shock to his system, as well as painful as hell, since Noah had known he couldn’t have her. His unlikely friendship with her older brother, Harris, had been part of the problem. Harris would have kicked his ass if he’d known Noah had a serious case of lust for his younger sister, and he hadn’t wanted to lose that friendship. Then there’d been Jessie, who would have skinned him alive if he’d so much as looked at Willow with a whisper of interest.

It hadn’t been easy, but Noah had somehow managed to fight the rising attraction … until that hot summer night when he’d come across her fighting off Johnny Stubb in the front seat of the bastard’s Corvette. Raw, possessive fury had taken hold of him, and his resistance had shattered, along with Stubb’s nose when it met with his fist.

But she was no longer that reed-thin little urchin who’d tried so hard to hold her own with the boys. The features that had once been a little too bold for her age were now stunning within her heart-shaped face, the long braids replaced by sexy, light blond curls that brushed her shoulders. She hadn’t gained much in height, but her five-sixish frame was leanly muscled and beautifully curved in all the right places. She looked earthy and gorgeous, completely at home there in the primeval surroundings of the forest.

She didn’t blush under his heated appraisal, her rosy mouth tilted at a wry angle as she looked him right in the eye. Slowly, she said, “I never thought I’d see the day that Noah Winston came slinking back home.”

“It’s … good to see you,” he murmured, giving her a wary nod as he shoved his hands in his pockets, figuring it was the safest place for them. He watched as she slipped the knife into the sheath strapped to her tanned, bare thigh, her cutoff shorts and skimpy halter top revealing far too much flesh for his peace of mind. He was a little shocked to see her wearing the weapon so openly, but knew he shouldn’t be. Any woman who was related to Jessie Broussard was bound to be hell on wheels, and Willow was obviously no exception. Her parents had been killed in a boating accident when she was only five, and it was Jessie who had raised Willow and her siblings. Raised them and loved them like her own.

Clearing his throat, he added, “It’s been a long time.”

She dragged her gaze over him, then slid him a taunting smirk. “You look like hell.”

And you look good enough to eat. Or lick. Or nibble on, he thought, keeping the provocative, no doubt dangerous, words to himself. Instead, he said, “You look … pissed.”

She arched one slim pale brow. “I’m sure that doesn’t come as a shock. Most girls never stop hating the first guy who trampled their heart. We have long memories.”

“I didn’t do a damn thing to your heart,” he said tightly. Her body, yes. He’d kissed it and touched it and had been on the verge of taking things too damn far before they’d been interrupted. Just thinking about it made his insides burn. He’d been about two seconds away from burying himself between her sweet little thighs when Harris had shown up. Then his mother … followed by Jessie. Before he knew it, a goddamn crowd of relatives had surrounded them.

“You know what?” she murmured, her voice growing softer. A chilling light flickered wildly in her big brown eyes, the unique color reminding him of gold-dusted cinnamon. “You’re right. You didn’t do a damn thing, Noah. You just cut out and ran.”

He scraped his palm across his scratchy jaw, silently reminding himself to stay calm. He couldn’t let her rile him, which was exactly what she was trying to do. “We haven’t seen each other in years, Will. Can’t we at least be civil?”

“You can be whatever you want,” she drawled.

“I didn’t come here to fight with you.”

With a sharp sigh, she crossed her arms under her breasts and cocked her hip. “Exactly why are you here?”

“I already told you. I need to talk to your aunt. Ask her some questions.”

“And would this have anything to do with your little quest to save the world?”

Surprise had his eyes going wide. He knew she’d become some kind of hotshot private investigator for the ancient clans who still walked the earth. But he hadn’t imagined she would ever waste her time keeping tabs on him. “You’ve been spying on me?”

She shrugged, and Noah couldn’t help but notice how the motion pushed her breasts against the thin cotton of her shirt. “I’m not deaf,” she replied, the lazy, liquid cadence of her speech striking him as incredibly seductive. He’d spent so much time on the West Coast, he’d forgotten just how sultry a true Southern accent could sound on a woman. Like something hot and sugary that would melt on your tongue. “I’ve heard the talk spreading among the clans. You’re a part of the Watchmen now. Or whatever the separatists have decided to call themselves.”

Separatists? He almost laughed, imagining what Kellan, one of his werewolf buddies, would say to that. Idiot would probably love it.

“Look, it’s important that I talk to Jessie.” Before she could tell him her aunt wouldn’t want to hear anything he had to say, Noah played his ace. “It’s about your family.”

HER FAMILY? Though she tried to play it cool, Willow knew he’d seen the truth in her eyes. That initial blast of wariness and fear that had caught her by surprise. He couldn’t mean … No, that would be impossible. She didn’t know with any certainty that he was talking about Sienna. Hell, there were Broussards scattered all over the world, each one as crazy as the other. Any one of them could have stumbled into trouble. Noah was just sticking his nose in where it didn’t belong.

Taking a deep breath, she ran her hands over her arms, wishing she were wearing more clothes. A woman needed full emotional battle armor when faced with a man like Noah Winston. Carefully, she said, “I don’t see how that could be possible. You don’t know a damn thing about my family, Noah.”

A warning flashed in his shadowed gaze, making her stomach bottom out. “I know something you’re going to want to hear. Trust me.”

“As if. I’m not in the habit of trusting the Casus,” she murmured, deliberately baiting him. She knew damn well that he hadn’t been taken over by one of the monsters. Yet. He was still Noah. But for how long? Without sustenance, the Casus had become shades while trapped within their metaphysical prison. From what she understood, they were forced to take human hosts when they returned to this world—but not just any humans. They needed ones who had a trace of Casus blood in their ancestry, and the Winstons fit the bill. Hell, they were practically the headliners.

“Stop the bullshit,” he growled, finally losing his temper as he took a step toward her. “You know me.”

Shaking her head, she said, “Wrong. I knew you, as in past tense. I don’t have a clue about who you are now.”

“I’m still me. Nothing’s changed.”

Like hell it hasn’t, she thought. But she kept the resentful words to herself. She didn’t want him thinking she was still bitter over his desertion. A girl had her pride, and a Chastain witch had more than most.

And even though it appeared as if he’d just walked through the fires of hell, he still looked damn good. Gone were the boyish looks that had made all the girls in Sacred pant after him when he’d been nineteen. He’d matured over the years, and he wore that rugged maturity well. He was attractive in a dark, sinister kind of way, his long body wrapped entirely in black—black jeans, black boots, black shirt. His thick black hair was spiky from the wind, his mouth almost cruel, but sensual. And then there were those ice-blue eyes that should have looked cold, but burned like smoldering flames instead.

“What happened to your arm?” she asked, changing the subject as she eyed the wicked-looking scar that was still healing on his forearm. She didn’t want to think about how hot he looked, or how badly she wanted to strip off that black T-shirt and see for herself if he was even half as muscled as he appeared to be. He was all sleek, predatory strength, ripped and hard and mouthwateringly gorgeous.

“I got bit,” he finally forced out in response to her question, the memory of the event clearly not a good one. Not that she had expected it to be.

“By what?”

“A bastard.”

“You kill him?” she asked, lifting her brows.

“No.” For such a simple reply, it held a wealth of emotion. Fury. Regret. Maybe even a touch of desperation.

“Weren’t fast enough?” she murmured, clucking her tongue. She was being a total bitch, but she couldn’t help it. It was as if the sight of him had cracked the cool, calm, nothing-can-hurt-me attitude she’d been hiding behind for years. With every second that went by, a little more of that fragile veneer was crumbling, leaving her feeling small and tense. She hated it. Hated that he could reduce her to this, when she was normally so good at shielding herself and keeping men in their place.

Shaking his head, he said, “Someone decided to save him before I got the chance.”

Dread spilled through her system. “Your bad guy had a guardian angel?”

“It seems that way.” Tiny lines fanned out from the corners of his eyes as he held her stare. “Wanna know her name?”

“It was a she?” The words were so soft the wind nearly carried them away, the panic in her veins burning like acid.

He nodded, and Willow could tell from the look in his ice-blue eyes that he didn’t like what he was about to do. “It was a she,” he said quietly. “A woman that I know.”

She crossed her arms tighter and ground her jaw. “I have a feeling you know a lot of women, Noah. So why should I care?”

“Because this one,” he told her, his deep voice rough with regret, “just so happened to be your sister.”

CHAPTER TWO

“YOU’RE WRONG! There’s not a chance in hell that Sienna would help those monsters! Not. A. Chance.”

The angry words Willow had blasted at him were still ringing in Noah’s ears as the two of them neared Jessie’s cabin. Not that he blamed her. He could understand how difficult it was for her to hear that kind of news, much less believe it. Noah had seen Sienna collaborating with the Casus on two different occasions, with his own eyes, and it was still hard to accept. It was likely impossible for Willow to reconcile the image of her lovely older sister with a woman who would align herself with someone like Anthony Calder.

What could have prompted Sienna to make such a dangerous alliance? He remembered her as a sweet, beautiful young woman who had always been kind to him. His friends, however, knew her only as the witch fouling up their plans—which was why he hadn’t risked giving this job to one of them instead.

He and Willow had wasted a good ten minutes arguing before she finally demanded that he give his bullshit version of events to Jessie herself. He’d seen the surprise in her big eyes when he hadn’t balked at the idea of facing her aunt with his claim, but had simply agreed. Surprise, and a shadow of fear at the realization that he just might be telling the truth.

As they climbed the wooden steps to Jessie’s cabin, she said, “I guess you’ve got more balls than I thought you did, to come back here this way. Jessie despises you.”

“It’s either balls … or stupidity.”

She was carefully avoiding his gaze, but he could see the corner of her mouth twitch with a tight smile. “In your case, probably both.”

Though he’d expected to be sweating bullets by the time he got to this point, standing at Jessie Broussard’s door, Noah was surprised to find that he was more concerned about the woman standing beside him than the one he would soon be facing. All he had to do was look at her, and he felt that same uncomfortable, edgy sense of need that had always spiked through him whenever she was around. A bad place to find himself in, seeing as how nothing could come of it. For one, she probably hated him as much as her aunt did. And it wasn’t like he could stick around to change her mind. Once he had the information he wanted from Jessie, he’d be gone. And the odds of him coming back were … Well, they definitely weren’t good.

The maudlin thought made him frown, and he searched his mind for a diversion. “I thought you would have moved away by now. Didn’t expect you to still be around.”

She snickered. “You mean you were hoping not to run into me.”

“That’s not what I said.”

“But it’s what you were thinking,” she offered in a slow drawl, finally lifting her hand to knock on the door that was painted a bright, sunny yellow. “And I’m not still around.”

“You’re here, aren’t you?”

“Only for a visit between cases.” She turned her head a little and shot him a look from beneath her thick, golden lashes. “Guess you’re just unlucky. I’m only in town to spend a few days with Jessie. The ‘no technology’ lifestyle she’s so desperately clinging to makes it difficult to stay in touch.”

“Where do you live?” he asked, surprised that she apparently no longer adhered to Jessie’s “no technology” lifestyle. He would have thought she’d be too stubborn to change. “Are you still in Louisiana?”

She rolled her eyes. “Like I’d tell you.”

Before he could respond to her smart-ass answer, the door opened and Noah found himself caught in Jessie Broussard’s dark, “witchy” stare. That was how all the local kids had described Jessie when he was growing up. Witchy eyes, witchy hair, witchy attitude. She was considered the scariest female in the state, and while Noah figured she could help him, he couldn’t help thinking the woman was probably going to make him pay for that help in blood.

Her face was remarkably unlined for her age, her nose still covered with a sprinkling of freckles. She wore a flowing green sundress, and what looked like … well, she was wearing what looked like a rabbit. On her head. A dead one, but a rabbit all the same. Or at least the animal’s skin, complete with head and eyes made of dark glass, the rabbit’s long ears hanging down the sides of her temples like some kind of macabre hair accessory. Any hopes that this particular Chastain witch would have mellowed with age had obviously been futile. She was clearly as crazy now as she always had been.

With an odd light burning in her midnight eyes, she took her time looking between him and Willow. “Noah David Winston,” she finally murmured, settling that disturbing gaze directly on his face. “To what do I owe this surprising … pleasure?”

Willow spoke in a rush, her voice strained. “Play nice, Jessie. He has information about Sienna.”

One slim white brow arched with surprise, the pale color in sharp contrast to the darkness of her eyes and the rabbit’s fur. “Does he now?”

Noah nodded his head respectfully. “It’s true, ma’am.”

“Hmm. Then I guess you should come in out of the heat,” she said, turning and heading into the shadowy recesses of the cabin.

Noah allowed Willow to go first, then followed her inside.

“Have a seat,” Jessie told him while she settled her slim frame into a wicker-back rocking chair. With a push of her bare foot, she set the rocker in motion, the steady creak of the wood seeming strangely ominous in the sunlit sitting room, where soft beams of gold poured in through the numerous windows.

Despite the unhampered wash of sunlight, the house was wonderfully cool, thanks to what must have been a kick-ass air conditioner. Noah took a seat on the edge of a small sofa, his elbows braced on his spread knees as he leaned forward and laced his fingers together. Jessie just kept staring at him, waiting for him to begin, so he finally cleared his throat and got on with it. “For about a year now, I’ve been working with the Watchmen.”

Willow immediately interrupted him. “You keep calling them that, but rumor has it they’re not the Watchmen anymore.”

Shooting her a quick look, he said, “I guess they’re not.” Until recently, the purpose of the Watchmen had been to act as the eyes and ears for the Consortium, the group of leaders who governed over the remaining ancient clans. Disgusted by the Consortium’s refusal to take action against the Casus, many of the Watchmen units located around the world had finally decided they’d had enough. “The Watchmen I’m working with have broken with the Consortium,” he added, “along with a lot of the other units. But they still haven’t decided on a name for their new organization.”

“And what does any of this have to do with Sienna?” Jessie asked, the slight tremor in her voice the only sign that she was worried about what he had to say.

Clearing his throat again, Noah got back to telling his story. “Every time we’ve killed one of the Casus and sent them to hell, a portal has opened into that section of the pit that holds the souls of the condemned clansmen and women. These condemned souls are called the Death-Walkers, and each time the portal has opened for a Casus soul, one has escaped. Last month, we finally found Meridian, the Casus prison, and destroyed nearly all of the bastards, but that victory has led to another problem.”

Jessie nodded with understanding. “When so many of the Casuses’ souls were sent into hell at once, it allowed the Death-Walkers to escape from the pit in greater numbers. How many are we talking about?” she asked over Willow’s quiet cursing.

“We don’t know,” Noah replied. “Likely thousands. Enough to be causing more trouble than we can handle.” Holding Jessie’s dark-eyed stare, he said, “They’re attacking small towns and villages, infecting some humans, feeding on the others. At the rate they’re going, containment is nearly impossible and the loss of life catastrophic. It needs to come to an end.”

“Do you know how to kill them?” Willow asked.

“Not yet.” Noah caught Willow’s gaze as he reached into his back pocket and pulled out several folded sheets of paper. “But these are copies of a section in a journal we found a few months ago. We call it the ‘death journal,’ because it’s filled with instructions on how to kill a variety of clan species, some we’ve never even heard of.” Looking back at Jessie, he said, “We think this section contains instructions on how to kill the Death-Walkers.”

“Then what’s the problem?” Willow asked, no doubt eager to get on to the part about her sister. “Are the instructions difficult?”

“We don’t know. We can read the heading for the section, but not what’s written beneath it.” He offered the folded sheets to Jessie. “Take a look for yourself.”

Opening the folded sheets of paper, Jessie studied the passage. She spoke after a moment, but kept her gaze focused on the strange symbols that Noah and his friends had been unable to decipher. “It’s in a demonic dialect. A very rare one that I’ve seldom seen used.”

He choked back a sharp curse. “We were afraid it might be something like that.”

Jessie’s gaze lifted from the papers, trapping Noah in its grip. “So you’d like my help deciphering this.” It wasn’t a question. She knew exactly what he’d come there for.

Noah gave a sharp nod. “We’ve had specialists from all over the world look at the passage, but no one’s been able to help us. I’m hoping you’ll be able to make something of it.”

Her gaze didn’t waver. “I think that might be possible.”

“Great. So that’s settled.” Willow’s voice was sharp with impatience. “Now tell us what you know about Sienna.”

Scraping his palm over his jaw, Noah said, “When we were in Meridian, we got to Anthony Calder, the guy who’s been leading the Casus, and almost killed him. But then Sienna somehow popped into the middle of the battle. She came in through some kind of portal and grabbed him. They both disappeared, along with a few other Casus shades, and then the portal vanished.”

“There has to be some kind of reasonable explanation.” Surging to her feet, Willow began pacing from one side of the room to the other, her beautiful face pale with strain. “Maybe she means to kill him.”

“I don’t think that’s the case, because that wasn’t the first time we’d seen her.” Both women locked their troubled gazes on Noah, waiting for him to explain. “In February, I saw Sienna in the Wasteland. She was working with a particularly nasty Casus named Gregory DeKreznick. Gregory killed a good friend of mine named Jamison. The guy was only twenty-six, and Gregory gutted him.”

“That isn’t possible,” Willow whispered, shaking her head. “She wouldn’t work with someone like that. Not Sienna.”

“Tragedy changes people,” Jessie murmured in a thin voice, looking as if she’d aged fifteen years in five minutes. The chair was no longer rocking, her body held perfectly still. “It can make them … desperate.”

Noah went on saying, “According to Gregory, he and Sienna had an arrangement. Some kind of deal that they’d worked out, but I couldn’t get her to tell me what it was. He claimed that she’d sought him out because she needed something from him. When it was clear he’d been defeated, she said that she’d have to find someone else to help her. That’s all I know.”

“What did she do?” Willow asked, her golden eyes glistening with tears. “How did she help him, I mean?”

“She used some kind of spell to freeze us in place, until my buddy Kellan, who’s a shape-shifter, broke her hold and managed to go after Gregory. Then Sienna disappeared. I didn’t see her again until she popped into the middle of the battlefield in Meridian and grabbed Calder. We’re assuming she’s made a similar deal with him.”

“Oh, God.” She took a deep breath, looking as if she was trying to collect herself before she was ill. “When you talked to her, did she admit to being Sienna?”

He shook his head, and her face flushed with triumph.

“Then it wasn’t her! It could be an imposter. Someone trying to trick you.”

“I understand how badly you want to believe that, Will. But at the moment, there’s no way to know for sure.”

“I’ll get proof,” she vowed, her expression one of fierce determination.

Protective instincts rose up with surprising speed, catching him off guard. The last thing he needed was Willow running around trying to hunt down Calder. The headstrong woman would end up getting her ass killed. “Damn it, Will. This isn’t some deadbeat dad or petty criminal you’d be trying to track down. You have no idea what you’d be going up against.”

Her lip curled with a sneer. “This is my sister, Noah. I’m getting her back from that bastard, even if I have to go into hell to do it.”

“You’re going to have to find her first,” he shot back, realizing she was just as stubborn now as she’d always been. “And that’s nearly impossible.”

“Just because you haven’t been able to find her doesn’t mean I won’t!”

“He’s right,” Jessie interrupted, her quiet voice barely audible over the rushed sound of their angry breaths. “If this is our Si with those monsters, it would take some old, dark magic to make her this powerful. Shielding me from finding her. Locking warriors in place with her mind. It’s not something that comes from the light.” Jessie blew out a ragged breath, and adjusted the bizarre rabbit on her head. “If she doesn’t want you to find her, then you won’t.”

Willow spun toward her aunt. “Are you telling me she’s gone Vader?”

“Vader?” Noah muttered.

She waved her hand in the air toward him. “You know. To the dark side.”

Jessie’s voice was soft, but firm. “Pain has a way of breaking even the strongest of hearts, Will. Instead of judging her, remember how much you love her.”

“What do you mean about pain?” Noah asked. “I’ve been searching the internet for months, but there’s been nothing reported in the news. What happened to her?”

Instead of answering his question, Jessie locked her gaze with his and asked one of her own. “Why have you waited so long to bring us this news?”

Okay. This was where he needed to be careful. “Ever since I first saw Sienna, I’ve been trying to get information about her. I’ve searched newspaper articles and online sources, but haven’t been able to find anything.”

“That’s because we would never mix our family business with the police.” Jessie sounded horrified by the very idea.

Noah started to speak, but Willow cut him off. “It’s been five months, Jessie. He obviously wasn’t planning on ever telling us. We’re his last resort.”

“It’s true that we’ve exhausted all the Watchmen’s sources and no one has been able to help us with the journal,” he grated, hating the way Willow was looking at him. “But I wouldn’t have kept the information about Sienna from you.”

Her smile was sharp. “Right.”

“Damn it, I mailed letters to the bar,” he growled, moving to his feet.

“What letters?” she demanded, glaring up at him. But there was a flicker in her eyes that made him think she didn’t want to believe the worst of him.

“There were several,” he muttered, scraping a hand through his hair. “They said that I had information about Sienna. I’m assuming no one ever bothered to open them.”

Willow looked at her aunt. “Did you get his letters?” When Jessie didn’t answer, she crossed her arms over her chest and demanded, “What happened to them?”

Jessie, who’d been studying the papers in her hand again, looked up and shrugged. “I probably tossed them on the weekly bonfire.”

Willow closed her eyes, apparently counting to ten. When she opened them again, she looked at Jessie and said, “If you refuse to use modern forms of communication, then you need to take the time to open your mail.”

“But I didn’t want to read anything from Noah.”

“I get that,” she snapped. “But we could have known about Sienna months ago.”

Jessie’s eyes looked owlish as she blinked. “How was I to know that?”

“You would have known if you’d opened the bloody letters!”

“You expect me to open every piece of mail that comes to the bar?” Jessie shuddered, as if the idea were revolting. “Do you have any idea how many people send me letters?”

Willow’s nostrils flared. “You know, Jessie, if you don’t like reading mail, then get a bloody telephone. Or at least have one put in at the bar.”

Jessie sniffed, then turned her attention back to Noah. “There’s something else I want to know. Why didn’t you send one of your friends? There was no reason for you to come here yourself. One of the others could have done it just as easily.”

Shoving his hands in his pockets, he gave her the truth. “They don’t know … what Sienna used to be like. After the things she’s done, I didn’t want to take the chance that I would be putting any of you in danger.”

“You haven’t told them about her family? About us?” she asked with surprise.

He shook his head. “They’re aware that I know her, because I called her by name. But I’ve refused to tell them anything else about her.”

Willow gave a short, bitter laugh, as if the idea of him doing something honorable was funny, but Jessie simply smiled. “So you came yourself to protect Si and her family? I appreciate that. And I find that admirable, even if you are a Winston. But what about your own skin?”

CHAPTER THREE

HIS OWN SKIN?

“What about it?” Noah hedged, wondering where this was headed.

“Your family is one of the strongest Casus bloodlines,” Jessie murmured. “During the thousand years that the Casus were trapped within Meridian, they turned to shades, requiring a human host when they managed to escape and return to this world.” Jessie was clearly demonstrating just how much she knew about the Casus and their history. “If the big guy is free with his right-hand men,” she added, arching her brows, “aren’t you worried?”

His laugh was harsh. “It would be stupid not to be.”

“Very true,” she agreed. “Why do you suppose none of your family has been taken as hosts before now?”

Noah rolled a shoulder. “Who knows? Rumor has it they were saving us for last. But I don’t know what will happen now. The few shades that got away with Calder, if they still need hosts, will probably come after us. But we haven’t seen any sign of them yet.”

Thanks to the Watchmen, he had sources all over the world keeping an eye out, but so far there’d been no sightings of Calder or the Casus shades that had escaped with him—and while he wasn’t eager for a confrontation, Noah hated not knowing what the holdup was. He’d thought the bastard and those who’d followed him through that portal would strike hard and fast after the battle in Meridian, but weeks had gone by and there’d been nothing. No sign of them. No attacks. But his gut told him not to lower his guard until the monsters had been found and killed.

As if Jessie had been reading his mind, she said, “Well, whatever this Calder and his men are up to, I don’t think you and your family are off the hook. As far as the Casus leader sees it, you’re living on borrowed time. I’ve heard Calder wants you, specifically.”

Noah’s eyes narrowed. “And where did you hear that?”

The corner of Jessie’s mouth curved with a wry smile. “I listen to voices, Noah.”

Christ, any minute he expected her to spout some line like I see dead people. And why the hell hadn’t these voices told her about Sienna? If he were Jessie, he’d be having a chat about what they considered pertinent information.

Willow walked over and nudged him in the shoulder. “What does she mean about Calder wanting you?”

He ground his jaw and ignored her, refusing to answer.

“What about your brothers?” Jessie asked. “Where are Jackson and Bryce?”

“I’ve had them placed in protective custody. One of the Watchmen units has taken care of it.”

The older woman laughed, making the rabbit on her head jiggle. “I bet that went down well. When this is over, they’ll likely be on my doorstep, eager to purchase a spell for some payback against you.”

He winced, thinking she just might have it right. His brothers were probably cursing him to hell and back at the moment, but he hadn’t had any choice. Now that Calder was free, he needed to make sure they were as safe as possible.

“Actually,” Jessie said, “I’m surprised you didn’t come here on behalf of your family.”

Noah frowned. “What do you mean?”

“For my help with the Casus.”

She’d caught him off guard with that one, and he was sure that it showed. “If I thought you could help us,” he said, his voice low, “I’d have come here a long time ago. But I don’t see how you could do anything.” Which wasn’t exactly true. Jessie’s talent with spells was legendary, as was her knowledge of the occult. He just hadn’t thought she’d be willing to raise a finger to help a Winston—or that she’d actually offer to help out with Calder.

The smile she was giving him said she knew exactly what he’d thought … and she was enjoying proving him wrong. With a soft spill of laughter on her lips, Jessie moved to her feet and headed across the room toward a tall, weathered chest of drawers, the bells at her ankles tinkling as she walked. If not for the rabbit skin on her head, she would have been a beautiful woman, and Noah found himself wondering if the strange getup with the rabbit was her way of scaring off interested males. There’d been rumors when he was younger that she’d lost the love of her life in a tragic accident when she was only twenty-one, and the surge of sympathy he felt took him by surprise. He couldn’t help but wonder what Jessie had been like before her heart had been broken.

When she turned back around, she was holding something small in her right hand, the papers he’d handed her still clutched in the left. As she headed toward him, she asked, “Why aren’t you wearing the Dark Marker that you’ve brought with you to Sacred? The one you left in the truck you parked back at the bar.”

His eyes went wide again, but he didn’t ask how she knew about the Marker. If you were around Jessie long enough, you came to accept that there were just some things you couldn’t hide from her. The powerful cross he’d left in the truck was obviously one of those things.

The Dark Markers were ancient crosses that acted as talismans against the Casus. They were also the only known weapons that could destroy a Casus’s soul and send it to hell. Noah and his friends had spent the past year collecting the twelve Markers needed to break into Meridian and destroy the Casus shades. After the battle, they’d taken the crosses back to England with them, to the ancient manor house where they were currently living.

Answering Jessie’s question, he said, “I brought the weapon to kill Calder, in case I run into him. But its powers aren’t going to protect me from him, if he tries to make me his host. So I didn’t see the point in wearing it.”

“Well, it’s foolish to take chances. You should make full use of its protection. Now lean down here so that I can reach you.” He shot a worried glance toward Will, who seemed to be enjoying his discomfort, then did as Jessie said and leaned forward a little. She lifted a small leather pouch dangling from a black cord and slipped it over his head. “If you’re smart,” she told him, “you’ll keep that on. It’s a special charm of mine that should prevent Calder from getting inside you.”

Holy shit. Noah wondered if he looked as floored as he felt. “Can you give me some to send to my brothers?”

“Of course.”

He swallowed, and somehow managed to force out an awkward “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she murmured, patting his shoulder in a gesture that was almost … comforting. “Now, if you’ll excuse me for a moment, I’m going to step back into my office. I need to have some time alone with these papers you’ve brought me.”

Noah watched her glide from the room and shook his head, wondering if he’d slipped into some kind of alternate dimension. Rubbing his thumb over the strange pouch now hanging around his neck, he lifted it to his nose and sniffed. He could pick up traces of sandalwood and something … richer. Something strangely exotic. God only knew what it was, but at least it smelled good.

“I must be out of my mind,” he whispered under his breath, cutting his gaze toward Will. “Am I crazy for thinking this thing might work?”

“You should listen to her, Noah. Jessie’s an amazing woman.”

His laugh was soft and rough. “It just seems kinda strange, putting faith in a woman who’s wearing a rabbit on her head.”

Willow clucked her tongue. “Are you really that judgmental? Because you know what they say about people who live in glass houses …”

He brushed that off with a grunt and turned toward her, locking her in his hooded stare. For one dangerous moment, he had to fight the driving impulse to reach out and pull her close, locking her against his body, as well. But somehow he fought it down. “What’s going on with Sienna?” he asked quietly. “You can talk to me, Will. I want to help.”

“I … can’t. It’s too much.” Something tragic and aching flashed in her eyes, twisting his insides, as if the pain were his own. It was strange, how badly he wanted her to trust in him enough to share her secrets. There was no basis for the feeling. No logic, either.

“Have you had any contact with her?”

She shook her head. “I’ve been searching for her ever since she disappeared. That was late last year. But there’s been nothing. I’m starting to think she just doesn’t want to be found.” Her lower lip trembled with emotion, but she took a deep breath and hardened her expression. “After what you’ve told us, I guess I was right.”

He wanted to ask more, but knew she wouldn’t give him the answers he wanted. Not yet. The creak of floorboards announced Jessie’s return, and she came back into the room with a somewhat stunned look on her face, her odd gaze settling on Willow for a charged moment, before moving to Noah. She still held the papers in her hand, but they now looked singed around the edges.

“Have you ever asked yourself why that particular passage is written in a language that’s different from the rest of the journal?” The question was obviously rhetorical, since she didn’t wait for a response. “It’s because it’s a spell.”

“A spell?” That wasn’t what he’d expected. “A spell for what?”

“For a weapon.”

Okay. That was more like it. “And it will kill the Death-Walkers?”

She raised her brows. “From what I can tell, this spell will kill anything.”

Whoa. He definitely hadn’t expected that. “What do you mean by anything?” he rasped, his eyes narrowed on her smiling face.

“Mortal. Immortal. From heaven and hell and everything in between.”

Noah’s pulse roared in his ears, his heart hammering so hard he was sure the two women would hear it. Yeah, he had the Marker he could use against Calder, but that meant getting close to the bastard. And getting close meant giving the Casus the chance to get inside him. If there was another way to kill him, he wanted it. Badly.

“Can you write the spell down for me?” he asked, his voice sharp with excitement. “Is it one that can be used by anyone? Or do you need to be a witch?”

Jessie held up one slender hand in a sign for him to slow down. “There’s something I need to tell you, and it’s going to be a bit … well, surprising.”

Dread punched into his stomach with the force of a kick, knocking the air from his lungs. “What is it?”

“I was able to translate the main catalyst for the spell.”

“And?”

She slid a quick look toward her niece, then said, “You’re going to need a virgin’s blood.”

“Come again?” he rasped, while Willow started to choke and cough.

“A virgin’s blood,” Jessie repeated, resuming her place in the rocker. “And not just any virgin’s. It must be from an adult warrior. Not human, but of the clans.”

“Jesus Christ.” He took a deep breath and scrubbed his hand over his eyes. “This has to be some kind of sick joke.”

“Come on, Noah.” Willow’s voice sounded odd, like a strange cross between horror and amusement. “You didn’t actually think it would be something easy, did you?”

He scowled as he looked at her. “Easy, no. But a little sanity wouldn’t hurt. I mean, call me a pessimist, but I don’t think a nonhuman, adult, warrior virgin is going to be all that easy to find these days. Whoever came up with it must have had some screwed-up mind!”

She shrugged, still looking as if she was struggling with her own reaction to the bizarre news. “The spell is obviously old magic, and virgins were considered sacred.”

Sacred. Right. Not to mention extremely rare in the twenty-first century.

God, he was tired of this war.

Blowing out a rough breath, he said, “What exactly is the spell, Jessie?” He had a bad moment where he imagined himself lurking over a boiling cauldron, reenacting the scene with the witches from Macbeth, but Jessie just frowned.

“I’m sorry, Noah, but I’m afraid that’s where my expertise ends.”

“What do you mean?”

“The passage is incredibly difficult, and I could only grasp bits and pieces. You’re going to need a demon to fully translate it.”

“A demon?” Willow gave a low whistle. “Must be one helluva spell.”

“This just keeps getting better and better,” he growled. “Where the hell am I going to find a demon?”

“Hell would be a good place to start,” Jessie offered helpfully, as if she’d just suggested he run down to the corner store and grab a gallon of milk.

Noah pinched the bridge of his nose and struggled for patience. “I know this might come as a shock to you, Jessie, but I don’t travel into hell all that often.”

“Hmm.” She pursed her lips, lost in thought, then clapped her hands together. “You could try finding an earthbound demon.”

An earthbound demon? Christ. Noah had heard of them. They were demons who had either escaped from hell and were now on the run, or who had been forced out for one reason or another. The hell dynamic was so complicated, he’d never gotten a good understanding of it when his mother had tried to explain the hierarchy to him. He’d never thought he’d need to … until now.

With a tired sigh, he said, “I don’t suppose you happen to know an earthbound demon who could help me out? Or even where I could find one?”

“No,” Jessie replied, her dark eyes almost glowing in the sunlit shadows of the room. “But … I think Willow can help with that.”

OH. MY. GOD.

Lifting her hand, Willow pressed it to the center of her chest and glared at the woman who’d raised her. She felt as if she’d been dealt a physical blow, the bitter burn of betrayal ripping painfully through her insides. She couldn’t believe it. Had Jessie lost her friggin’ mind?

“Will?” Noah’s voice was soft. Cautious.

Keeping her hard gaze on her aunt, she said, “Forget it.”

Noah looked between her and Jessie, who was just sitting there with a serene smile on her face, pretending she hadn’t just thrown Willow into the fire. “Would someone please tell me what’s going on?” he demanded.

“Willow has a friend,” Jessie explained. “His name is Damon.”

Noah grunted, the supremely masculine sound almost making her smile. “And this Damon is a demon?”

“Maybe,” Willow muttered, ready to strangle her aunt. Bracing herself for the coming argument, she shifted her gaze to Noah. “But I need to be searching for Sienna. I don’t have time to get involved in your problems, no matter how serious they are.”

“The Death-Walkers aren’t my problem, Will. They’re everyone’s problem.” He paused for a second, his dark brows pulling together … and there was a strange light in his eyes that told her she wasn’t going to like what he said next. “If you want to find your sister, then sticking with me is probably the best chance you’ll get.”

“How do you figure?” she asked, thinking he looked as surprised by what he’d just said as she was. If she hadn’t been so angry, the situation might have actually been funny.

He recovered quickly, vibrating that hot male energy at her while he pulled back his shoulders, as if getting what he wanted was a foregone conclusion. “Think about it, Will. What Jessie said is true. Calder wants my body.”

She shot him a cheeky grin. “He got the hots for you, Noah?”

“You know what I mean,” he growled, an endearing flush of color burning along his cheekbones.

Yeah, she knew. But it was easy to see why Noah would be considered prime host material. What male, no matter how much of a monster he was, wouldn’t want to wear that sexy skin? Women probably threw themselves at him on a daily basis, begging for the chance to touch and taste all that rugged, mouthwatering perfection.

She was truly playing her role as the awful bitch to a T, but it couldn’t be helped. After all, it was easier to be angry than hurt, and God, did it hurt. Just looking at him was a kind of physical torment. Just being near him. Breathing him in.

Noah had been the first boy who had ever made her feel like a sexy, desirable female. Who had blown her mind with pleasure that was so intense, it’d felt like she was dying … but in a good way. And no one had ever quite managed it since. It was like the bastard had marked her, every other man she’d known paling in comparison.

Still, considering the cards she’d been dealt, it was, in a way, good that things had turned out the way they did. Thanks to a certain pain-in-the-ass prophecy, nothing could have come of her crush on Noah Winston. But that didn’t mean that the way he’d ended things hadn’t stung. Having a guy tell you it was a mistake to touch you was never a good thing. As far as set downs went, it sucked the big one.

And yet, despite all of that, she knew she couldn’t refuse to help him. At least, not completely. Her goddamn guilty conscience wouldn’t let her, no matter how badly she wanted to.

“Fine. I’ll track down Damon for you,” she grumbled, pulling her phone out of her back pocket, so that she could enter Noah’s number. She knew Jessie was going to have a lot to say to her, but that didn’t mean she wanted Noah Winston around to hear it. Better to clear out to her own cabin, and come back to see Jessie later, before she left. “You got a cell number where I can reach you?”

His dark brows drew together in a straight line over those sharp blue eyes. “Reach me?”

She tried not to sound huffy. “Finding Damon isn’t going to be easy. He’s trying to avoid his ex, who has it out for him big-time, which means he’s gone silent. No phones. No pagers. I’ve got to hit the road to look for him. It might take a few days, but once I’ve found him, I’ll call you.”

He worked his jaw, something grim and angry darkening his expression. “That’s not how this is going to work.”

Willow lifted one brow in a slow arch and cocked her hip. “Did I miss something? I thought you wanted my help.”

“I do. But you’re not going after the demon on your own.”

“You want that spell translated?” she snapped, pointing her finger at the papers in Jessie’s hand. “Or not?”

“Yeah, I want it. But we get it together.” He crossed his arms over his chest, his eyes narrowed to hot, glittering slits. “The Death-Walkers aren’t idiots. If they catch wind of what you’re doing, they’ll come after you like a force from hell. Literally. I intend to be there to make sure you don’t get hurt. And I want to hear the translation straight from the demon’s lips.”

“No,” she breathed out, shaking her head. Hell, no.

“If you want your answers about Sienna, this is the only way.”

“I’ll get my own answers,” she snarled. “You’ve got to be out of your friggin’ skull if you think I’m just going to tag along with you for the ride!”

“The bastard who has her wants me, Will. That means you need me.”

“Maybe, but you need me, too,” she shot back, her temper getting the better of her. She never had been able to suffer arrogant men. And Noah Winston was as cocky and arrogant as they came. “You need me a lot. Remember? Damon might be the only shot you have at getting those pages translated!”

“That’s right. So we work together.”

Her stomach damn near bottomed out. What the hell had just happened? Closing her eyes, she stumbled back a few steps, until she came up against a wall. “Jesus, Noah. That’s a bad, bad idea,” she whispered, deciding she was going to have to add tricky to his list of character faults.

“I’m no happier about it than you are,” he said in a low voice, “but I don’t see that we have a lot of choice here. Unless you’re willing to tell me where I can find this demon of yours on my own?”

Huh. At least he knew better than to gloat. But she was still pissed as she opened her eyes to glare at him. “I can’t tell you something I don’t know. And he’d kill you before agreeing to help you.”

He gave a sarcastic snort. “Sounds like a great guy.”

Her smile was meaner for the fact she knew she was going to have to give in. The bastard was going to win, she was going to be stuck working with him, and God only knew what other horrors awaited.

CHAPTER FOUR

INSANITY MUST BE contagious. Considering the circumstances, that’s certainly what it felt like. Noah was trapped in his truck with Willow, surrounded by that mouthwatering scent, and the goddamn road seemed to stretch on forever, punishing him for the sexual thoughts that kept slinking their way into his brain.

Ever since his family had taken off in the dead of night twelve years ago and driven from Sacred to San Francisco, Noah had hated road trips. They made him irritable and tense. He’d been on more than he could count since joining the Watchmen, but he couldn’t recall ever feeling this restless while cruising down the open highway. He couldn’t even keep his damn eyes on the road, constantly stealing sideways glances at the woman sitting beside him.

She’d changed her clothes before they’d headed out, trading the halter top and shorts for a T-shirt and jeans. He’d hoped the change might be easier on his system, but no such luck. The outfit might have covered more skin, but the way it clung to her curves was just as sinful.

He should have known it was going to be like this. That he’d lose his friggin’ mind the instant he set eyes on her again. If he’d had any brains at all, he’d have holed himself up in some cheap hotel room with an even cheaper woman for a few days and screwed his brains out before setting foot in Sacred. Then he wouldn’t have had any left to fry. As it was, all he could hear was the slow sizzle of his thought processes as they smoldered and burned, surprised he didn’t have smoke coming out his ears.

Scrubbing a hand down his face while the other had a death grip on the steering wheel, he made a desperate attempt at conversation. “You gonna tell me why your aunt was wearing that rabbit on her head?”

Maybe she needed the distraction as much as he did, because instead of telling him to shut up, she gave a throaty laugh, the rich sound doing something funny to his insides. “You should have seen the look on your face when she opened the door wearing Rufus.”

“Rufus?”

“He was her pet, until he keeled over from old age. That was a few years ago.”

“Okay.” He ran his tongue over his teeth, trying to wrap his mind around what she’d said. “So then Jessie wears him out of affection? To keep him … close to her?”

She rolled her head over the back of the seat to look at him, the side part in her hair giving her an Old Hollywood look, with those glossy curls falling over the side of her face. It was sexy as hell, making a man want to stroke those soft locks back, so that he could touch his mouth to the smooth curve of her cheek. The tender corner of her eye. The feminine arch of her brow. On any other woman, he’d have thought it was a practiced pose. Something meant to entice and allure. But there was nothing superficial or calculating about Willow. She was just naturally sexy, without even trying. And it was hell on his system.

“She doesn’t wear Rufus to keep him close,” she murmured with a crooked smile. “She uses him to project her loony persona.”

“Why does she want people to think she’s crazy?”

She rolled her head back toward the window, staring out into the starless night. “A woman can have all kinds of reasons for projecting a persona,” she murmured. “In Jessie’s case, I think she likes the protection her reputation affords her. With fear comes a certain amount of respect. But I also think it helps to keep away those who might have a romantic interest in her.” Another husky laugh rolled off her lips, the throaty sound making his muscles twitch. “And Rufus certainly does a good job of that.”

So he’d been right, after all. Maybe ol’ Jessie wasn’t nearly as batty as she appeared to be.

Keeping one hand on the wheel, Noah reached up and touched the charm she’d given him, wondering if there was a chance in hell it would actually work. After all, if anyone could pull off that kind of spell, it would be Jessie. The woman had an understanding of the occult that was unlike anything he’d ever seen. And then there were her Chastain powers, which were truly impressive.

The Chastain were at the high end of the power spectrum for witches—but unlike most of the other castes, they could mold their abilities into one of three specific specialties. There were the spell-makers, the warriors and the healers. Jessie, obviously, had devoted her life to the first, Willow to the second and Sienna to the third. As far as he knew, a Chastain’s ability to gain power was essentially limitless, depending on their lineage and how strongly they chose to train. In Willow’s case, considering her leanly muscled physique and the way she’d handled that blade that she carried, it was clear that she’d trained hard. But she hadn’t crossed over into the “dark side” of the occult, the way her sister had, which meant she’d be at a disadvantage if the two ever faced off together.

Noah hoped it never came to that, but then, he’d learned the hard way that just hoping for something wasn’t always enough.

“So now that you’ve blackmailed me into this working arrangement,” she said, “I have some questions for you.” She stretched as she spoke, rolling her shoulders back until her breasts strained against the confines of her T-shirt. From the corner of his eye, Noah stared at the delicate shape of her nipples, wondering just how much of a bastard he must have been in a past life to deserve this kind of torture.

Apparently a really, really big one.

Kneading the muscles at the back of her neck, she asked, “What are you guys doing about them?”

He blinked, trying to remember what they were talking about—but his mind had been blanked by lust. “Them?”

“The Death-Walkers.”

“Uh, not much,” he rumbled, quickly forcing his attention back on the road, where it wasn’t likely to get him into trouble. “At the moment, they’re pretty much handing our asses to us. We’re in deep pick-up-the-pieces mode, rather than prevention. We have no idea where they’re going to strike next, or when. Or even how many of them escaped when we fried the Casus in Meridian.”

“Have there been any problems with the media?”

“A few.” It was costing the Consortium a fortune to “buy” the silence they needed from witnesses in order to ensure the secrecy of the clans. Not to mention some questionable intimidation tactics that made him and the guys in his unit uncomfortable as hell. They understood the necessity, but that didn’t mean they had to be happy about it.

“And what about the Collective?” she asked. He wasn’t surprised Willow knew about the Collective Army. She was a part of the clans, after all, which meant she knew to be on guard from the fanatical organization of human mercenaries who devoted themselves to purging the world of all nonhuman species.

“The Collective are pretty busy at the moment trying to save face.”

“That’s hardly surprising,” she drawled. “They screwed up, big-time.”

They had definitely done that. In an ironic twist, the Collective had partnered up with the Casus after being offered a deal they had hoped would lead to the death of the clans. Instead, their greed had left the Army looking like idiots.

“The Collective generals might covet blood, instead of money or power, but it all ends the same,” he said. “In misery and death.”

He could feel the press of her stare as she looked at him. “And what do you covet, Noah?”

Apparently you, he almost muttered. But he managed to choke down that colossal blunder.

“I mean, what is it you’re trying to do?” she asked, without waiting for his answer. “Buy yourself some good luck? You should be trying to find Calder. Not worrying about how to stop the Death-Walkers.”

“I honestly don’t know.” He worked his jaw, uncomfortable with the topic. Hell, he didn’t waste time psychoanalyzing his actions. He just went with his gut and tried to keep his head on straight, which meant keeping busy. He didn’t like sitting around and thinking everything to death. Shit like that drove him mad.

“What about you?” he asked, wishing he hadn’t smoked his last cigarette. He’d never been much of a nicotine addict, but the past few months had been a bitch. And it wasn’t like there weren’t worse vices he could be indulging in.

“What about me?”

Noah slid her a speaking glance, then returned his attention to the road. “From the bits and pieces I’ve heard over the years, you’ve earned quite a reputation as a badass investigator. One who isn’t afraid to mete out some rough punishments every now and then. Kind of like a judge, jury and executioner all rolled into one.”

“Well, it does pay to be a little bit bad,” she said with a smile in her voice. “And I never hurt anyone who’s innocent.”

“And what about those who are guilty?”

“That,” she murmured with almost feral satisfaction, “is a different matter altogether.”

“Is that why you decided to focus on warrior training? So that you could mete out justice?”

“Oh, you know,” she said airily. “It was either that or go into Jessie’s line of work and end up wearing a rabbit on my head.”

“You got a thing against ol’ Rufus?” he teased, sliding her a lopsided smile.

“Naw, I just didn’t like the idea of anything squishing my hair.”

A burst of laughter rumbled up from his chest, and he was surprised by how good it felt, the husky vibration feeling almost new. Jesus, had it really been that long since he’d laughed?

“And really,” she continued, “I couldn’t see myself doing anything other than what I do. It just … works for me. I enjoy the travel. The freedom. And it probably sounds corny as hell, but I enjoy helping people.”

“What kind of cases do you normally take?”

“There’s a lot of jerk-offs bailing on their families, leaving the wife and kids behind and shacking up with clueless chicks half their age. The whole deadbeat-dad thing, just like you said. But I also work a lot of missing-persons cases, which can just about kill me if we’re talking about a child. Those are the …” Her voice trailed off, and he watched from the corner of his eye as she rested her temple against the darkened passenger’s window. “Those are the hardest, but they’re also the ones that bring the greatest reward, if I’m able to make a difference. Most of my clients have nowhere else to turn, since it’s difficult to involve the police when your child isn’t human.”

Something weird turned over in his chest, and he rubbed at the spot with the heel of his palm. “I wish there were more people like you in the world, Will. It would be a helluva lot better place if there was.”

She gave a soft, self-deprecating laugh, then turned back toward him. “It’s strange to hear you talk.”

He slid her a curious look, wondering if he had a speech impediment he didn’t know about. “Why’s that?”

“You just don’t sound as Southern as you used to.”

With a grin, he said, “It’s easy to lose an accent in California. No one in my family sounds all that Southern anymore, except for my mother.”

“What are your brothers up to?”

“Jackson’s been running my bar for me back in San Francisco.”

“Winston’s, right?”

“That’s right.” He waited to see if she would expand on that, wondering what else she knew about the life he’d left behind in California, but she kept silent. “Anyway, he’s a good kid. Mom was pissed that he dropped out of college, but he couldn’t take it. He damn near already knew everything they were trying to teach him, so it bored the heck out of him. He’s taking it easy for now, content at the bar, trying to figure out what he wants to do with the rest of his life.”

If he has one.

The intrusive thought made him flinch, and he shook his head, surprised when she reached over and put her hand on his arm. “It’s okay, Noah.” Her voice was soft with understanding. “He’ll make it through.”

“Thanks,” he grunted, enjoying the touch of her hand. And missing it when she pulled away, settling her hands in her lap. Giving himself a mental shake, he got back on topic. “And Bryce is a family man now.”

“No way.”

“I swear to God. He married a woman who’s part panther, and she keeps his crazy ass in line. They have a little girl named Zara, who’s the cutest damn thing you’ve ever seen.”

“I can’t believe you’re an uncle.”

He smiled. “I’m not just an uncle. I’m her favorite.”

With a quiet laugh, she said, “I bet she misses you.”

“Yeah, I miss her, too. I haven’t seen her since we moved the unit’s headquarters to England.”

“It seems so odd that you live there.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. I guess I just never pictured you as the English-manor type.”

Dryly, he said, “I try not to drag too much mud through the place.”

“I wasn’t saying you’re not classy enough, Noah. Just that you’re too …” She seemed to be searching for the right word, but couldn’t find it. “Never mind. But it wasn’t an insult. I didn’t know you were so … Well, you’re pretty touchy, you know that?”

“And you’re pretty bitchy,” he drawled, liking it when she gave another soft laugh.

They finally caught sight of the motel Will had said would be a good stopping point, and he pulled into the lot. At this time of night, the place was nearly full with travelers and truckers, but the clerk knew Will and managed to scrounge up a room for them. It was clear from the look in her eyes that she wasn’t thrilled about having to share a room, but she didn’t openly complain. Instead, she simply tossed her bag on the king-size bed and told him she was grabbing a shower.

As he sat on the foot of the bed, listening to the rattle and hum of the pipes, Noah considered the situation he and Will now found themselves in. They’d never really been friends. They’d been more like thorns in each other’s sides when they were younger, always bickering and snapping. Constantly rubbing each other the wrong way.

And then everything had come to a head on that last night he’d been in Sacred, and all that prickly energy that’d always been between the two of them had transformed into something mind-blowing. Into something that’d shocked the hell out of them both.

Now, twelve years later, they still weren’t friends. Were more strangers than anything else, and yet, it didn’t feel like he’d just spent hours with a stranger. In some ways, the span of years since he’d last seen her seemed nonexistent—but at the same time, everything had changed. What had happened between them that last time they’d been together had irrevocably altered the cadence of their relationship. Like a match to flame, all that restless, uncomfortable energy had spectacularly combusted, flaring into something violent and raw and explosive, creating a feeling that was … Well, it was …

Damn it, he didn’t know how to explain what it was. Noah only knew it was something he’d never felt before. That he’d never come close to feeling since. And it was still vibrating in the air between them, impossible to ignore.

He just didn’t know what to do about it.

“But I knew this was going to be a mistake,” he muttered under his breath, shoving his hands back through his hair so hard that his scalp stung. He rested his head back on his shoulders, staring at the motel’s water-stained ceiling, and told himself that he needed to start focusing on the mission.

He also needed to check in with the others back in England.

Taking a seat in the cheap wooden chair that matched the room’s even cheaper desk, Noah booted up his laptop and then clicked on the icon that would initiate a secure video connection via satellite. He knew exactly why Kellan had uploaded the software onto his system, insisting that he use it while he was in the States. His friends back in England wanted to be able to see him—to check his expression and read the look in his eyes—so that they could be sure he was still Noah … and not some meat-puppet being controlled by Calder. Not that he blamed them. If he was in their shoes, he’d have done the same thing.

As he waited for someone to connect on the other end, Noah admitted to himself that while he missed his friends, he was glad for the time away from them. As happy as he was for the guys, their luck in the love department had started wearing him thin. All the laughter and smiles and satisfied looks of pleasure. They weren’t naive. They knew there was still work to be done. Knew the fate of the world was resting in the balance. And they were prepared to deal with it. But it didn’t stop them all from wallowing in romantic bliss. It was enough to make a single guy sick to his stomach.

“It’s about damn time you checked in.” Kierland Scott’s deep voice suddenly cut into his thoughts, and Noah jerked his gaze back to the laptop. The werewolf was buttoning up a white shirt, his green eyes sharp with concern. He sat behind one of the desks they’d set up in the new high-tech room they all referred to as command central and stared up at the video monitor mounted on the wall. “We’ve been worried.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry about that,” he rumbled. “It’s, uh, been an eventful day.”

“I’ll just bet it has,” Kellan groused, coming into the room and pulling up a chair beside his brother. He was shirtless, his auburn hair mussed from sleep, and Noah realized he’d probably pulled them both from their beds. He hadn’t thought about how early it was there. “And?” Kellan demanded, while he scratched the auburn stubble darkening his jaw. “Did you find what you were looking for? Is the mystery over? Can you finally tell us what all the fucking secrecy was about?”

Kellan really hadn’t taken well to Noah’s insistence that he make the trip to Louisiana alone, but then neither had any of the others.

“I’ve gotten a good start,” he said, keeping an ear out for the sound of the shower turning off, “but before we get into it, I need to quickly explain a few things. First of all, I know the witch. The one who was working with Gregory, who took Calder out of Meridian.”

Kellan rolled his eyes. “We figured as much, considering you called her Sienna,” he offered dryly, scratching his chest.

“Yeah, well, what you didn’t know is that I grew up with her.” While his friends listened, Noah quickly explained his connection to the Broussard family, telling them about the feud and his friendship with Harris. He left out the part where everything had gone to shit between him and Willow, simply explaining that tensions between the two families had prompted the Winstons to relocate.

He also admitted why he hadn’t filled them in on any of this before, and then he told them what had happened when he’d shown the spell to Jessie. When he was done, he sprawled back in the uncomfortable chair and waited for them to rip into him.

It didn’t take long. He didn’t need to hear the guttural curses to know how pissed they were with him. Their expressions said it all. What he hadn’t expected was the hurt he could see in their eyes.

“We protect our own, Noah.” Though Kierland kept his voice soft, it resonated with anger. “You should have known that.”

“Yeah, I know,” he muttered, scrubbing his hand down his face. “And I’m sorry. I was a dick not to trust you. I just haven’t been thinking straight lately.”

“You’re also a dumbass,” Kellan added, and Noah barked out a gruff laugh.

“Yeah, that, too.”

Getting back to the issue of the journal, Kierland said, “You told us the aunt was able to decipher the catalyst for the spell, but you didn’t tell us what it is.”

Leaning forward in the chair, Noah braced his elbows on his knees. “I know this is gonna sound crazy, so I’m just gonna say it. We need an adult virgin. One with a warrior’s blood. And she can’t be human.”

Kellan gave a low whistle and shook his head. “Well, hell, that leaves me out.”

“Now there’s something we didn’t know,” drawled a deep voice with a slight Scandinavian accent, and Gideon Granger walked into view, the vampire’s arms crossed over his chest as he lounged against the wall behind the desk. The Deschanel vampire and his brother, Ashe, had been working with the Watchmen for months now, and Gideon was staying at the house in England more often than not these days.

“I don’t like this,” Kierland rasped. “It doesn’t feel right.”

Gideon gave a low laugh. “I tried to warn you, Kier, that you might not like what has to be done in order for you and your friends to survive.”

“This isn’t about our own asses,” Kellan growled.

Kierland shifted in his chair, cutting a dark, suspicious glare at Gideon. “Did you know it was going to be a virgin’s blood that was needed?”

The vampire shook his head. “Not specifically. But I was afraid there might be something like that involved. Considering we’re dealing with dark magic, it seemed … fitting.”

“Well, I’ve got a lead on a demon who should

be able to help us decipher the rest of the spell,” Noah said. “I’m hoping to track him down in the next day or two.”

“In the meantime,” Kierland told him, “we’ll research virgin rituals. See what we can dig up.”

“Ask Saige,” Noah suggested. “She knows all about this kind of crap.” Saige Buchanan was an anthropologist who was engaged to one of the Watchmen in their unit, and her knowledge about clan history was extensive.

“Will do,” Kellan assured him. And then, quick as a snake, he said, “You planning on telling us who’s in the shower before you head off?”

Noah made his expression blank. He’d deliberately left out the fact he was traveling with Will, wanting to avoid the inevitable questions. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he lied, refusing to give in gracefully.

Gideon snorted as he glanced from one Scott brother to the other. “Does he think we’re deaf?”

Kellan looked into the camera and smiled like an idiot. “I can hear it all, big boy. Even the race of your pulse. You got a new lady friend with you?”

“I doubt he’d call me a friend,” Willow murmured, her voice coming from just behind Noah’s left shoulder, and he damn near jumped out of his skin. He’d been so focused on the conversation with his friends, he hadn’t heard her slip out of the bathroom. “I’m sure Noah would just tell you I’m a pain in the ass.”

Gideon gave her a slow, appreciative smile. “If they all look like you, sweetheart, I think I’ll have to get one for myself.”

Noah scowled. “Keep a leash on the vamp, Kier. Or better yet, a muzzle.”

Gideon’s brows arched with amusement. “You’re awfully touchy, Winston.”

“Oh, you guys have no idea,” Willow said with a laugh, the fresh, mouthwatering scent of her skin damn near making him drool. A wave of possessiveness swelled up inside him, strange and unsettling, and he had to choke back a snarl as he turned to look at her.

And that was his second mistake.

He’d seen a lot of beautiful women in his time, their naked bodies displayed in erotic poses that would have tempted a saint—but none of them had ever made him feel the way he did when he saw Willow standing there in nothing but a tattered white towel, her hair falling in a tumble of curls over the right side of her face, her red mouth curved in a wicked smile. Christ, she was gorgeous. Droplets of water still clung to the feminine slopes of her shoulders, her skin dewy and soft from the heat. He wanted to put his tongue to her and lick those drops right off her skin. Wanted to slide his tongue into places that were even wetter … and pinker.

Knowing damn well that he was about two seconds away from completely losing it, he growled, “For God’s sake, Will. Put on some clothes.”

“If you insist.” She started to drop the towel, but his hand shot out and snagged her wrist.

“Don’t even think about it.”

Turning back to the computer, he glared at every one of the grinning jackasses staring back at him and then disconnected the connection. The instant the screen went blank, he moved to his feet, towering over Will as he tightened his hold on her wrist, but she didn’t back down. Instead, she stared up at him as she licked her bottom lip with a provocative sweep of her tongue … taunting him. Screwing with his mind.

Was this some kind of game to her? Did she just enjoy flirting … or was she trying to push him? And if so, where the hell did she want him to go?

Needing to find the answer, Noah released his hold on her wrist and stepped back, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned against the desk. “If you’re so eager to get naked in front me,” he rasped, running his heavy-lidded gaze down the front of her body, before looking her right in the eye, “then do it.”

CHAPTER FIVE

NOAH’S HEART POUNDED, his pulse a thrashing, violent roaring in his ears, while he waited to see what Willow would do. The seconds ticked by like a countdown inside his head, jarring and loud.

And then it ended.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, a surprising flush of color creeping up her throat, her lashes lowering to shield whatever he might have seen in her eyes. She pressed both hands to the knot at the top of the towel, squeezing so tightly her knuckles turned white. “I don’t know why I did that. It was a … mistake.”

“That’s what I thought you’d say.” Using a harsh laugh to cover the sharp blast of disappointment that swept through him, Noah turned and sat back down at the desk. He kept his back to her while she went about getting ready for bed, and tried his damnedest not to think about sex. Or that lush body that she’d almost bared for him. Or how right it felt to have her with him. How much he liked her smiles and her laughter, even when they were edged with sarcasm.

And since when did he obsess over a woman’s smiles? That sure as hell wasn’t normal.

Damn it, why hadn’t he gotten laid when he’d had the chance?

Meaningless, harmless, easy sex wouldn’t have solved all his problems, but it would have taken the edge off this gnawing, frustrating need. Or at least he liked to think it would have. But Noah was beginning to have his doubts. This hunger tearing through his system was so raw, he probably could have screwed his way through twenty casual encounters, and still been in the same world of hurt. Because sex with Will would be … well, anything but casual.

And if he had to bet on it, he’d wager it would be unlike anything he’d ever had before. He didn’t doubt that for a second.

That was the problem right there. Nothing about burying himself inside Willow Broussard would be meaningless. Or harmless. Or easy. It would likely blow his mind, and he was already on shaky enough ground as it was. Did she have any idea how dangerous it was to play games with him, tempting him to lose control?

Trying hard to get his mind on something else, Noah took off his boots and socks while he waited for her to slip into bed. As he removed the knife and sheath he kept on his calf, he heard the rustle of covers as she slid between the sheets and turned off the lamp on her bedside table. There was still a faint glow of light spilling around the cracked bathroom door, and a frown pulled at the corners of his mouth. Had she left the light on so he wouldn’t be stumbling around in the dark? If she’d asked, he could have told her he didn’t need it. Thanks to the bite on his arm, his night vision was improving rapidly. He could damn near see as good in the dark now as he could in the light.

At any other time in his life, Noah would have probably been excited by the change in his sight, knowing it would make him better in a fight. But he couldn’t ignore the wary voice in his head that kept reminding him the changes in his body were only linking him closer to the monsters.

Choking back a bitter curse, he grabbed the gun tucked into the back of his jeans and set it on his bedside table. Then he pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it on the back of the chair, and shucked off his jeans. He’d just grabbed the top of the covers, getting ready to pull them down so that he could slip beneath, when Willow lifted her head, shooting him a surprised look over her shoulder, the smooth skin bare but for the slim strap of a tank top.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she gasped.

Stretching out in the bed, Noah put his hands behind his head. As he stared up at the ceiling, he tried not to think about how insubstantial that tank top was and answered what he considered a fairly ridiculous question. “What do you think I’m doing, Will? I’m going to bed.”

He wasn’t crazy about sleeping in the same bed with her, since it was going to be damn hard to relax with her body so close to his—but it’s not like there were a lot of alternatives and he was dead on his feet.

He jumped when she twisted around and poked him in the arm with her finger. “Damn it!” he yelped, rubbing his arm as he shot her a scowl. “What was that for?”

“You are not sleeping in this bed,” she informed him, the haughty tone of her voice setting his teeth on edge. “You can sleep on the sofa.”

“Like hell,” he grumbled, wondering what her problem was. It’s not like he was going to attack her, no matter how badly he might like to. And there were acres of empty space between them. “That sofa’s three feet too short for me. And I bet it feels like plywood.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Tough.”

“What is it with you? You were ready to bare your ass to my friends a little while ago, but now you’re too shy to sleep in the same bed with me?”

“Not too shy,” she shot back with a grim smile. “Just unwilling.”

His temper started to slip away from him, and he forced his response through gritted teeth. “I’m not going to touch you, so just chill.”

She studied his face in the soft darkness, no doubt noticing how worn out he looked, and finally relented. “Fine. Whatever. Just stay on your side of the mattress.”

He grunted, wondering if he should be insulted that she’d apparently just decided he was too tired to be a threat. “The same goes for you,” he ground out with a disgruntled thread of amusement, certain it was the first time he’d ever warned a woman to stay away from him in bed.

She muttered something colorful in response as she gave him her back, and despite his shitty mood, Noah found himself grinning. He lay there for a long time in the quiet darkness, listening as her breathing eventually evened out with the calmness of sleep. He must have eventually dozed off, because sometime in the night he drifted slowly back to awareness. He knew, in an instant, that he was dreaming. And he didn’t want to wake up. Not yet. Unlike the gruesome nightmares that had plagued him for months, this one was too damn good to miss.

He was standing in the middle of a forest … and he was with Will. A bloodred moon hung low over the trees, scarred by the jagged edges of dark cloud that stretched across the sky. The air was warm, sweet with the scent of Willow’s skin, the night silent but for the whispering of the wind and their sawing breaths.

They were both dressed in jeans and T-shirts, but her nipples were pressed tight against the thin cotton, and Noah felt himself reaching out for her, covering the soft weight of her breast with his hand. She gasped, her head falling back, and with a low growl on his lips, he took her mouth in a desperate, searching kiss, as if he was trying to find the answer to something important. Something … vital.

Noah didn’t know how long they stayed in that tight, clutching embrace, arms wrapped around each other, the tenor of the kiss bordering on violence. He thrust his tongue against hers with a greed that left him shaken, then nipped at her bottom lip, unable to get enough of the sleek, petal-soft textures … the warm, honeylike taste. It was a rich, drugging sweetness that made his blood go thick, his cock pulsing with a raw, insistent ache. He ran his hands down her back until he gripped her ass, then yanked her close, her body soft and pliant against his hardness, melting into him.

God, he needed this. Even if it was only a dream. He needed all of her. Needed her on his tongue, on his skin. Needed to spread her open and drive his body inside hers until she’d taken every demanding inch of him. Until he could feel the hammering of her heartbeat thrumming around the heavy length of his cock as he stretched her open, her arms and legs locked tight around his body, holding him close. Binding him to her.

His hands gripped tighter as he lifted her up, grinding her against his erection with an animal-like sound of pleasure. He moved forward a few steps, trapping her against the gnarled trunk of a towering oak tree. Curving one hand around the back of her neck, tangling his fingers in her soft curls, he slid the other down the back of her thigh. As he lifted her leg higher on his hip, the position allowed him to rub more fully against the warm cushion of her sex. She moaned in response, whispering his name, and the soft sound of longing pierced right through him, like a bullet. It struck with a violent force that ripped him from the lush, delicious depths of the dream, jerking him back to a shocking awareness.

With his chest heaving, Noah opened his eyes and took in the startling reality of his surroundings. The cheap motel room, instead of the forest. A scarred headboard instead of the gnarled, towering tree. But Willow was still in his arms. Still moaning and writhing against him, her legs hugging his hips, his knees braced in the bedding. She moved like she wanted to crawl under his skin, driving him out of his mind.

Driven by blinding urgency, his hand shook as he grasped the hem of her tank top and shoved it up, his mouth closing hotly over a sweet, pink nipple. She cried out at the intimate contact, the throaty sound making him wild. He used his tongue to stroke and lick, nipping with his teeth, before sucking on her with a hunger that just kept rising. He could not get enough. Not of her taste or her skin or those provocative little sounds she kept making. The way she arched against his mouth, seeking more … or the breathtaking quiver of desire shivering through her limbs. The way she wound her fingers in his hair, tugging him closer.

God … I need her. Want her.

Just her. Her. Her …

In that moment, all of Noah’s concerns were forgotten. He was an animal, primal and male, at the mercy of his baser hungers. He grunted with feral satisfaction as he lifted her body higher, trapping her against the headboard with the burning heat of his body, his muscles coiled hard and tight. Her dazed eyes went wide as he gave a raw, guttural growl, just before he covered her mouth with his, his blood roaring in his ears as visceral craving bore down on him, obliterating reason and logic. Smashing it with a violence that should have shaken him … but he was too far out there, existing in pure sensation.

She didn’t fight him, but her mouth had been shocked into stillness beneath his—passive, simply taking, accepting—and he wanted her hunger. Wanted the bite of her nails and her mind-blowing passion.

He wanted her wild for him.

“Goddamn it, kiss me back,” he snarled, holding the side of her face in his hand. She moaned, tilting her head, fitting her mouth more closely to his. “Please,” he gasped against her silky lips, his voice cracking as he begged her … pleading. “Kiss me back, Will.” And then he felt the soft, sweet stroke of her tongue, and his body shuddered violently in response to that delicate, seeking touch. Within seconds, the kiss became something explicitly carnal, devastating in its power. Noah kissed her like he wanted to consume her. Like he never wanted to stop. And he didn’t. He wanted it to last forever. Wanted to keep drinking in that warm, heady flavor, loving the way she tasted on his tongue. Loving that for once in his godforsaken life, reality was so much better than the dream.

With another feral, rumbling growl, he broke the kiss, pressing his mouth to the sharp point of her jaw as he sucked in lungfuls of her mouthwatering scent, his chest heaving. Heat shot up his spine, roaring through him as he reached for the waistband of her pajama bottoms, wrenching them down as far as he could get them with her legs wrapped around his waist. His body shuddered as he pressed his hand between her thighs, stroked through the plump, slippery folds that were drenched with heat, then thrust a long finger inside her. She cried out again, panting against the side of his face, her nails biting into his shoulders, while her inner muscles spasmed, clasping him tighter, fighting to hold him inside her. He made a thick sound as he pressed deeper, loving the way she clung to him, so tender and hot, and he pulled his head back so that he could watch her eyes. Watch the pleasure climb, shocking her, the moment so intimate it made his chest hurt. He’d done this with too many women to count, and yet, in that moment, he couldn’t remember a goddamn one of them.

Not. A. Single. One.

All he could see was Will.

It was mesmerizing, watching the emotion flash through her dark eyes as he stroked inside her, penetrating the plush sheath, pushing deep, then slipping his finger back out and swirling the callused tip wetly over her clit. She trembled, her mouth open for a soundless word that looked like More, and he locked his jaw as he pushed back in, giving her two fingers this time. Her sex was tight and wet and scalding around his fingers, burning him alive, and he braced her with the press of his body so that he could free his other hand to shove down his boxers.

She cried out again, his name spilled huskily from her kiss-swollen lips, and the next thing Noah knew, long, lethal fangs were bursting into his mouth, heavy and throbbing and hot—just like the ones he had in his nightmares. But he was too far gone to care. He pressed himself against her, stroking the heavy head of his cock through her slick, swollen folds, his breath leaving his chest in ragged bursts as he buried his face in the crook of her shoulder. Her skin was deliciously smooth against his scratchy cheek, her scent an intoxicating lure. Unable to resist, he put his mouth against the tender column of her throat, the hunger demanding that he possess and mark her in the most primal, savage way that a male could mark his mate.

Just as the blunt tip of him nudged her entrance, he scraped his fangs across her sumptuous flesh, on the verge of taking his first bite, when she gripped two handfuls of his hair and wrenched his head back.

“Whoa,” she said breathlessly. “Noah, wait!”

“I won’t hurt you,” he groaned, lowering his head and flicking his tongue against her throat, loving the way her wet sex felt against the bulging head of his shaft. “I—”

“Noah! Listen to me. I said no!”

He pulled back a little, confused. He could sense her withdrawal, but couldn’t understand exactly what she wanted. Her words were fuzzy in his ears, their meaning not getting through to his brain, like she was shouting at him through soundproof glass while he struggled to read her lips. He shook his head, trying to concentrate, while the import of those words fought to break their way through the deafening fog of hunger and lust.

“Goddamn it, Noah!” She shoved hard against his shoulders, then slapped him with so much force that his head whipped to the side. “Move back!”

The words busted through that time, like a douse of cold water in his face. He brought his face back around and looked into her eyes … and reality came back in a slow, sickening slide.

Shit, he thought dully, shaking his head again, while the details of the situation came into sharper focus. Her warm body crushed against his chest. The thick, granite-hard length of his cock pressing against her inner thigh. The kiss-swollen shape of her mouth beneath eyes that were burning with hot, vibrant emotion. Christ, he could not be doing this. What the hell was wrong with him?

“Damn it!” He curved his hands into shaking fists, lifted his arms and slammed his fists against the wall, making her jump. A muscle in his jaw pulsed with fury as he narrowed his eyes at her. “This isn’t going to happen,” he snarled. “I am not going to bang you against the wall in some cheap motel room. Not for our first time!”

“Hey!” Indignation filled her expression. “It wasn’t like I asked for this. You’re

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