A Hunger Like No Other

before catching it on the pad of her forefinger.

She saw his fists clench and open, and that finger went limp. The bottle thudded.

One hit…The image of the shredded bedside table flashed in her mind, then the memory of the car he'd batted like a crumpled piece of paper. Chunks of marble that hadn't been pulverized still littered the shower floor. Fool. She'd been a fool to think he wouldn't hurt her. Of all the things she should fear, she feared pain the most. And now a Lykae clenched his fists in anger. At her.

She turned into the corner, giving him her side to try to shield her nudity. And because if he hit, she could sink down and draw her knees to her chest. But with some foreign curse, he stalked off.

After showering, she returned to the bedroom to find almost all of her belongings gone. Had he taken them to the car he'd secured? If so, ten euros said that he'd tossed her laptop under everything else. She supposed it didn't matter anyway, since she'd uncovered nothing about her parents to go into said computer. Just because she could navigate Tulane's research library did not mean she could crack the Lore in a foreign country—oh, and in the hours between sundown and sunup.

She'd accomplished nothing on this trip. But for her abduction, of course.

Why should she even be surprised?

She exhaled wearily and trudged to the items he had left her—one outfit laid out on the bed. Of course he'd chosen the tiniest, most sheer lingerie she'd brought with her. The thought of him handling her underclothes, deliberately choosing them for her, made her blush for the thousandth time since she'd met him. She must have wasted a gallon of blood blushing because of him.

He'd also picked out long pants and a turtleneck and a sweater and a jacket. Did he want her to be buried in clothes?

At that moment, he appeared again. She leapt backward, clearing the length of the mattress to stand at the headboard. Even with her keen hearing, she hadn't heard a hint of his approach.

He raised his eyebrows at the quick movement. 'That frightened of me?'

She clutched her towel. I'm that frightened of my own shadow, much less an overgrown Lykae! But his voice hadn't been cruel, and she gathered the courage to study him from beneath her lashes. His eyes were that warm golden color and he was wearing new clothes. He looked like a mid-thirties millionaire. Or more aptly, a physique-model playing one.

The bastard was a remarkably handsome man. And he obviously knew it, which nettled. 'You've attacked me twice. You've given me no reason not to be frightened.'

He was getting irritated again. 'That was before I gave you my word that I would no' hurt you.' Then, seeming to get his temper under control, he said, 'Everything is ready. I have a rented car waiting and I've settled the bill for this room.'

She could just imagine that bill. Even though he'd annihilated the antique bedside table in this room, it wouldn't add up to the cost of her stay. 'But I've been here for weeks. I can pay for my own—'

'You did pay. Now, come down from the bed.'

When he held out his hand to her, she crossed to the opposite side and stepped down, feeling dizzy and fearing the worst—the utter abuse of her credit card. 'And I suppose I paid for your new clothes?' she dared to ask with the bed between them. Emma knew fine things—all Valkyrie did—since they'd inherited Freya's acquisitiveness—and the cut of his clothes reeked of money.

He wore a dark leather car coat that was hand-stitched and flat-front trousers, camel in color and lean in fit. Under the opened jacket, a black thin cashmere shirt molded to him like a second skin. Between the edges of his coat, she could see the rigid outlines of his chest. His clothing said, I'm rich, and I might be a little dangerous.

Women would adore him.

'Aye. The man downstairs has many resources and our card has no limits.' His tone dared her to say something.

Our card? Her Centurion AmEx with instructions that some purchases might seem off and that the owner would be traveling, so do not hinder in any way. A safeguard had now turned into a financial weapon in his hands.

Like all in the coven, she had a yearly allowance for clothes and entertainment and it was very generous, but she'd been saving up, thinking of buying something major that would be all her own—an antique or her own horse or anything that she wouldn't have to share with her aunts. No longer.

Among her other trials with him, the Lykae appeared determined to break her bank.

'You didn't leave me any way to cover my ears,' she said, glancing down, avoiding his eyes as usual.

Her comment made him scowl again at her clothing. She wanted to hide something he found attractive, and yet her garments were so revealing to others? Her black trews scarcely came up over her hipbones and hugged the curves of her arse. Her red shirt, though high-collared, had strange, asymmetrical seams that drew the eye to the swell of her breasts. When she moved, flashes of her flat midriff came into view. He'd chosen those clothes to cover her—not advertise her. He'd buy her new ones at the first opportunity, spending lavishly of the vampire's money. He intended to find out how much he could possibly spend.

'I just need a scarf or a way to fasten my braids. Or people will see them—'

'You'll leave your hair down.'

'B-but the humans—'

'Will no' dare do anything when I am there.' When he found himself crossing to her, she took several steps back. Terrified of him.

Lachlain had little memory of the field and even the rest of the night before was hazy, but he knew he'd been…less than gentle. Then tonight he'd leapt onto her, pinning her to the bed about to shove into her, even while knowing he would hurt her. He'd seen her in the shower warily noting his clenched fists. She was right—she had no reason not to.

On the balcony, he'd discovered pain within her. That's what she had in her eyes. He had it, too, and he was too damaged to help her. Too full of hate to want to help her.

'Then can I at least call my family?' she asked. 'Like you promised?'

He frowned. He'd said 'contact her family,' as in a letter. He'd seen the man downstairs use the telephone. On the television, he'd seen it as well. He'd never thought she could have called another country. 'Be quick about it. We have to make good time tonight.'

'Why? Are we going very far?' Her voice grew panicked. 'Because you said an hour before sunrise—'

'Are you nervous about this?'

'Of course I am!'

'Doona be. I will protect you,' he said simply, annoyed that she relaxed not a whit. 'Make your call.' He turned the corner into their room's foyer, strode down the hall to the door, opened and closed it.

But he never left.

5

Do you have any idea how dead you are?' Regin asked. 'Annika is freaking out. She's making berserkers look like candy-stripers right now.'

'I know she's worried!' Emma said, clenching the phone in both hands. 'I-is she there?'

'Nope. There was an emergency she had to take care of. Em, why in the hell weren't you on the plane? Or answering your cell phone?'

'The cell phone's toast. Got wet in the rain—'

'And why weren't you on the plane?' Regin snapped.

'I've decided to stay, okay? I came here for a reason and I'm not finished yet.' Not a lie.

'You couldn't answer any of our messages? Any of the messages the manager tried to deliver to your room today?'

'There could've been knocking, I don't know. Go figure—daytime and I was asleep?'