Claimed by the Immortal

He debated. He could slip out before she could stop him, race to warn Jude and then catch a wheel well on the next night flight to Europe, an utterly cowardly response that would have made bile rise in his throat, if he still had bile. Or he could sit out the inquisition and try to patch the damage. Which was clearly the only honorable choice left now.

He sighed. “You’re troublesome, Caro.”

“Me? I’m troublesome?” Her voice rose a bit with anger. “Who was it who just pawed me?”

“I didn’t paw you. Please. I fondled you.”

“Without my permission, which makes it pawing!”

“Actually, I could smell consent all around you.”

“Oh. My. God.” She put her face in her hand, but not before he saw her cheeks redden.

He decided that taking a seat might be the wise thing to do now, especially since he had just put her on the defensive. Just a little, but perhaps enough to settle this matter before it got worse.

Her head jerked up. “I don’t care what you smell. Never do that again without my permission.”

Well, he couldn’t exactly promise that. Considering that her scents, including her anger, which was tinged with just a dash of fear, were calling to him almost irresistibly, he tried to find a response that would soothe her.

“Promise me,” she demanded.

Truth again. Never in all his centuries had he so regretted taking that vow. “I can’t lie to you,” he said, “so I can’t promise you that. I can promise to try, but nothing more.”

“Why? Are you incapable of self-discipline?”

“I’m not incapable of it. Actually, I’m usually quite good at it.”

“Then why not now?”

He sighed. “I gather you’ve never been deprived of something essential to life.” While also true, this was yet another evasion. For some reason he wanted Caro even more than he wanted the usual mix of sex and blood, but he absolutely didn’t want her to know that. She was on an edge right now and could teeter either way. Teetering the wrong way would cost Jude and his wife enormously.

“Sex isn’t essential to life. Not even a vampire’s.”

How had they moved so quickly to her accepting that he was a vampire? But that wasn’t the question before him right now, so he watched the puzzling emotions skitter across her face and tried to divine her reactions from her scents. Neither was really giving him a strong clue right now. Whatever she was feeling was scattered all over the place.

“Sex,” he said finally, “is not essential to my survival. What goes with it is.”

At that her face went utterly still. Then fury tightened her eyes. “You were going to take my blood without my permission?”

“Never.” That he could say with absolute truth and certainty. “Never.”

“Then...” She stopped. Drew a deep breath. Clenched her hands. “I can’t believe this.”

“Then don’t.” It would be excellent if she returned him to the pervert category and convinced herself that he wasn’t a vampire at all.

But that was not to happen. “You really exist,” she said quietly.

“So it seems.”

She stared at him almost miserably, then slapped her hand on her thigh. “That does it.”

“What does it?”

“I told you all about why I came to you. To Jude. Evidently you were part of the package and I need your help.”

He regarded her warily. “I can remove myself from the package if you like.”

“No, that won’t change a damn thing. Because Jude has the same aura.”

He’d blown it. He’d blown it to hell and gone. Now it was just a matter of how to deal with it, and right now he didn’t have a single decent idea that could spare Jude and Terri.

“So,” he said slowly, “are you going to expose Jude?”

At that she laughed. It wasn’t a happy sound. In fact, it sounded edgy. “Sure. I just got put on medical leave because I refused to stop trying to tell my boss that I saw a guy levitate and get thrown across the room by an invisible force. If I go to anyone and tell them you and Jude are vampires, I can kiss my career goodbye.”

“Oh.” His instant sense of relief gave way to concern. “I didn’t know your career was in danger.”

“Because I didn’t tell you. Do you think it makes me feel good to know my boss thinks I’m having some kind of breakdown? That if I don’t shut up permanently I’ll lose my promotion to detective? And now this! Oh, I really needed you on top of everything else.”

She at last thumbed the safety on her pistol and shoved it back into her holster. Evidently she had remembered enough to realize how useless it would be against him. “I could put you in jail, you know. That was sexual battery. So keep your mitts to yourself.”

He resisted the urge to remind her there was no way in hell she would get him jailed, but he decided to accept her warning as it was intended. For now, at least. Besides, as things began to settle, he began to feel urges. Urges to solve the mystery of Caro Hamilton and why she called to him so strongly. Urges to understand her quixotic mix of traits and beliefs. Urges to protect her. He halted himself there. Protect her? Whoa, as Chloe would say. Over the top, surely? But this woman was facing something that concerned him, and he was certain she couldn’t deal with it alone.

Then she fell silent, staring gloomily into space, and he let her be. He had no idea how he could help her with any of her problems, except possibly the force that was hovering nearby even now. The cat was out of the proverbial bag, and he had to admit to a little shame that he had added to her problems when all he had been trying to do was share with her a few utterly satisfying moments of passion. He wondered if he would have been any wiser had he known the pressure she was under in addition to being stalked by some unseen and deadly power. Too late for an answer to that.

It was difficult to keep a rein on himself, though, sitting here in her small apartment, swamped in her scents, listening to the beat of her heart and smelling the fresh blood moving in her veins. The difficulty of it surprised him, and he blamed it on not having indulged in fresh food for so long. Certainly not since he was a newborn had his needs driven him to the point of utter folly. He prided himself on deciding who, what, where and when.

Tonight he’d lost control. That was enough to make him uneasy about himself.

Silken ropes wafted into his mind again. He knew how many women preferred to pretend they were helpless so they could indulge free of qualms of conscience. As long as they were bound, they could pretend it was all his doing. Strangely enough, they all came back for more.

But with Caro, those ropes probably wouldn’t please her at all, unless they were on him. She seemed very much the type to want to be in charge. He could do that. In fact he wouldn’t mind it at all. With this woman, he decided, he wanted her to be sure it was all her doing.

Right now, that didn’t seem like even a remote possibility.

Thinking about it wasn’t quieting his needs or his instincts either. The urge to pounce was building again. He was a predator and food, delightful food, sat only a few feet away. He must be mad to stay here. Sanity would dictate that he clear out of here fast and find some other food to satisfy the Hunger.

But there was that thing, that energy or force he could sense but not identify. Much as he wanted to escape temptation, he feared leaving Caro alone with whatever it was.

Maybe he could summon up one of the protective spells he’d learned so long ago. Make some kind of talisman for her protection. It would have been helpful, of course, if he weren’t so out of practice. Few vampires needed the powers of a magus when they had so many inherent ones.

His skills and knowledge were now so rusty he feared to use them because he might misuse them. A lot of good he was.

Caro broke into his thoughts by speaking. Her tone was reluctant, her words slow.

“My grandmother,” she said, “claimed to be a witch.”

He spoke cautiously. “Really?”

“I don’t mean the kind you see everywhere now. I mean an honest-to-goodness witch with real powers. She