casket. Would Tiger Woods be caught dead in one of those? I thought not.

I sighed and said, “Since we’re going to be working together for the next few days, a clue to your fake ID might help.”

“Thor Longfellow.”

I stopped and stared, not even turning when I heard Cassandra stumble to a halt behind me. “No.” His hair bounced cheerfully as he nodded. I asked, “How did you get away with that?” He shrugged. “The girl who assigns identities really likes Thai food, and I know this place on the East Side—”

“Say no more.” I should’ve guessed he’d charmed that ridiculous cover out of a woman. I got moving again, picking up the pace when I realized the pallbearers had begun to look at the coffin, and each other, curiously.

“Oh, please, could you just put him in the car now?” I asked, attempting to make my voice quiver.

Instead I sounded like I’d tried to squeeze myself into my old training bra. At least it got Jack’s attention.

He trotted over to inspect me for injuries, which gave me a chance to grab his leash.

Ruvin, duded up in a white uniform to match the hearse, with green buttons that complemented its future load, opened the back door. The pallbearers had just begun to slide the casket in when the ruby-luscious ring on my left hand shot a stream of warmth up my arm.

Oh, shit, he’s awake!

Most vampires would’ve slept through the whole transfer. But Vayl had powers, baby, and one of those was the ability to draw in another vamp’s cantrantia , his or her essential skill, and make it his own.

Which meant the one time he’d been forced to stay awake through the entire day, he hadn’t just slept it off at the next sunrise. He’d seen the dawn and another two hours of light before going down. Same deal, only reversed, that evening. And every day since. Nice for him—and me—until now.

I handed Jack off to Cassandra, flung my arms into the air, and began to wail, “I can’t stand it! This is the worst thing that’s ever happened to me! Life will never be the same again! He was so young! We never even had kids!” On and on I ranted, barely pausing to breathe between screeches.

“Oh, you’re good!” Cole scrubbed at his day-old stubble to hide his smile, which quickly transformed into a jaw-dropper when a fist punched through the golf bag’s lid. Luckily only the two of us noticed. The rest were distracted by the youngest mourner, who’d ripped her dress, maybe thinking she had to one-up me if she wanted a decent tip.

“Oh, God, why did this happen to me!” I flung myself across the hand, which began to work its way up my ribs like they were a ladder to the Promised Land. But I could feel Vayl’s mood through Cirilai, the ring that bound us closer than a promise, and fun was the last thing on his mind. I sent him soothing thoughts, yanked a handful of roses from the bouquet decorating the lid, and shoved them into his fist.

The mourners, inspired by their colleague’s wardrobe malfunction and my overacting, kicked it into high gear. Their screams bounced off the hearse and sank into the coffin, sending Vayl into a frenzy. Despite the tradition followed by most of his kind, he’d never spent his days in the spelunker’s paradise he presently inhabited. Only Pete’s promise of a hefty bonus and the help of a sedative known to work on vampires had convinced him to travel this way at all.

His other hand crashed through the lid, wrapped around my jacket, and forced me down, holding me so tight that I rode the casket into the hearse as Cole, Bergman, and Cassandra helped the pallbearers shove it the rest of the way home. Somebody slammed the door shut and, since the back of the car had no windows, I began to open the latches.

“I’m getting you out!” I called. I popped the last closure and Vayl shoved back the lid, rolling me into the narrow space between the coffin and the hearse’s inner wall, raining roses on me like I was a parade float. Now it was my turn to grit my teeth and wriggle.

“I’m stuck!” I yelled.

The lid slammed and Vayl, moving so fast all my eyes caught was a blur of black leather and bloodred cashmere, grabbed my arms and pulled me into the backseat. We landed on our sides, tangled like teenagers, our mouths so close I could feel the steam of his heavy breaths washing over my cheeks.

I pulled my head back, inspecting him for damage. His short, dark curls practically stood on end. His winged eyebrows looked like they wanted to fly off his forehead, but his eyes, the orange of a tiger lily, were already fading to brown. “That was… unpleasant,” he said, his expression still taut enough to show the bulge of his fangs under his upper lip.

“But this is nice,” I said as I slipped my hand inside his coat. I made my next move quick, because company was coming and the CIA frowns on fraternization. Not that my crew would’ve gossiped about me grabbing my boss’s rear. They knew how to keep their mouths shut. So did we, for that matter. But people who risk death with you on a regular basis just seem to figure things out. And if the Oversight Committee questioned them I didn’t want them to have to lie any more than necessary.

“Jasmine!” Vayl’s breath caught. “You pick the worst moments!” Which was true, because people had begun to pile into the hearse. I could hear the delight in his voice though. Damn near three hundred years old and he still loved to be groped.

“I think my necklace is tangled in your sweater,” I said. Since the line my shark’s tooth, shells, and beads were strung on had been tested to six hundred pounds, one guess which would give first.

“I do not care what is wound where as long as I am rid of that box.”

“That bag was lined with real silk!” Cole announced as he bounced into the seat beside Ruvin.

I covered Vayl’s mouth before he could reply, because absolutely nothing he said could’ve helped. I gasped when he licked my palm. “What’re you doing?”

“Your hand is bleeding,” he whispered.

Oh, great, the roses. I hadn’t even felt their thorns dig in when I’d ripped them out of the bunch. But now that I knew, my wounds began to throb, along with a vein in my temple as Bergman and Cassandra got comfy in the seat opposite us. Jack, bummed to be stuck in yet another enclosed space, hopped up on the seat beside us and stuck his nose against the window.

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