Dangerous Games

'I'd love to share a shower, but I suspect it would end up being an extremely long shower.'

'And there's something wrong with that?'

'Absolutely nothing.' He gave me another killer smile. 'Go get ready, woman.'

I went. And while I usually lingered in the shower, enjoying the sting of the water jets against my skin, there was nothing leisurely about this shower. I was out and dried in record time. I waltzed naked from the bathroom and headed for the bedroom. Quinn had his back to me, staring out over the myriad of city lights so visible from our windows. But, like moths drawn to a flickering flame, our gazes met in the glass.

I stopped, and for several seconds did nothing more than stare at him. It was rare for me, that. Werewolves seldom held still for any amount of time—the energy of the beast, barely contained, was Rhoan's theory. But in this instance the urge to move had fled, consumed by the force of the vampire in front of me, lost in the emotive swirl of want and desire and something else—something that ventured close to determination and yet was a whole lot more powerful.

Then his gaze left mine and slid down my body, becoming a sensual and yet excruciatingly slow exploration that had pinpricks of sweat breaking out across my skin. And suddenly it was all I could do not to run across the room and jump into his arms. Take or be takers.

He smiled at that moment, and I knew he'd read the emotion behind the thought, if not the thought itself. Quinn was both a strong empath and telepath, and while I had mind-shields strong enough to keep most vampires out, there was something about this vampire that left my senses reeling and my defenses down.

And it wasn't just the link we'd formed to allow communication between us in psi-shielded areas. It was more—had always been more, even before we'd shared blood.

But he was a vampire, not a wolf, and no matter how much my own body might betray my white picket fence and kids ideal, no matter how deep the connection between us became, there was no escaping the fact that we came from two very different worlds. I could never be only with him like he wanted, and he could never provide what I wanted. I might not be able to carry children but, at this point, my eggs were still fertile. But Quinn could never give me those children. He was the undead.

Nor would he stand for someone else giving me what he could not provide. God, he hated the fact that I had other lovers, that I still went to the clubs and danced with whom I wanted, even though he knew that was part of a werewolf's nature—and something we would not give up for anyone less than a soul mate.

And while I might feel a deep connection with Quinn, he wasn't a wolf and he could never be my soul mate.

No matter how much he might think otherwise.

His gaze went back to the lights, freeing me from stillness but leaving me hot and achy and more than a little frustrated. I mightn't have any idea about the game he was playing, but I'd be damned if I put up with it for much longer. He might have centuries of secrets behind him, but I was a werewolf and sensuality was an inherent part of who we were. Sex was as important to us as blood was to a vampire, and if Quinn expected me to simply play along with whatever he had planned, then he was in for a rude awakening.

I continued into the bedroom and headed for the wardrobe, which wasn't as sparse as it had been a few months ago. Rhoan had gone on another of his spending sprees, and as usual, he'd bought clothes for me. I think he figured I wouldn't tell him off as much if he shared the loot. And I have to admit, his taste was far better than mine, even if his love of bright colors sometimes had me wincing.

'Do I need to dress casual, elegant, or upmarket?' I yelled out as I studied options.

'Comfortable,' he answered, amusement evident in his deep tones.

Damn. It was hard to do seductive in comfortable clothes. After several minutes of indecision, I simply grabbed a pair of jeans and a thick woolen sweater. If I couldn't do sexy, I might as well be warm. I grabbed socks and undies, but didn't bother with a bra. The moon was blooming, and the moon heat—which was what we wolves called the seven day period before the full moon—was only days away. This was the time when the power of the moon surged through our veins with ever-increasing strength, and our hunger for sex became a call we could not— dare not—ignore. The heat didn't usually hit me as hard as it did full-blooded wolves, but every couple of months I suffered all the outward symptoms. Like my breasts feeling fuller, and becoming overly sensitive. And me reeling hornier than a bitch in heat.

Which I guess was what I was.

I dressed, dragged a pair of shoes from the grip of the dust bunnies under my bed, then walked back into the living room. He looked me up and down, then said, 'Perfect.'

'I know.' I resisted the urge to do a sexy pose—a hard thing to pull off in jeans and a floppy woolen sweater anyway—and grabbed my apartment keys and wallet, shoving them both in my pocket. 'So, give. Where are we going?'

'It's a surprise.' He herded me out the door and down the stairs. Outside, the wind was still strong, ripping the door from my grip and slamming it back against the outside wall.

The night was still freezing cold, but least the rain had stopped. A white limo waited at the curb. The driver stood near the rear door, and opened it as we approached. Once we were seated, the driver climbed back in, started the car, and zoomed off. Obviously, he was in on the plan, whatever the plan was.

I ignored the seat belt and slid across the soft leather seat until I was practically sitting on Quinn's lap. 'I've never made love in a limousine,' I said softly, sliding my hand provocatively up his leg.

'Then perhaps that can be another outing,' he commented, stopping my hand before it got to the interesting bits.

'You know, if you're planning to frustrate me, you're succeeding.'

Amusement glittered in his obsidian eyes. 'Good.'

'No, it's not. I'm a wolf, remember, and the full moon is rising.'

'I haven't forgotten.'

'But the million dollar question is, do you plan to do something about it?'

Just for a moment, the heat and the need I could smell haunted the dark shadows of his eyes. My hormones did excited cartwheels, though in all honesty, I have no idea why because all he said was, 'Be patient.'

'Patience was never one of my virtues.'

He chuckled softly, then wrapped his arm around my shoulder and pulled me close. Such intimacy without sex wasn't something I was really accustomed to, and it felt both strange and good at the same time. I leaned into him, my head resting against his shoulder, enjoying the closeness even while wishing it was a whole lot more.

We'd been driving for a good ten minutes before I realized we were headed for Essendon airport. Excitement stirred. I didn't get out of Melbourne too often these days, and while our casual dress suggested our destination wasn't somewhere too exotic, the airport meant it was at least going to be somewhere different.

It was a few minutes after that that the driver lowered the glass between us and him, and said, 'Sir, I believe we are being followed.'

'Same car as before?'

'Yes. A white Saab, with two occupants.'

'Pull off at Airport West and see if we can lose him in the side streets there.'

I pulled away from his arm and sat up. 'How long has someone been following you?'

'We picked up the tail when I arrived at the airport earlier this evening. I thought we'd managed to lose them.'

'Perhaps they've bugged the car.' Fear ran through me even as I said it. One person who might want to do such a thing was Gautier. I had no doubt it was part of his plans to kill all I held dear before he killed me. If he did know about Quinn and was behind us being followed now, it meant that Rhoan had been right and Gautier was playing a game far deeper than what he was admitting. 'Was it dark when you flew in?'

Quinn frowned. 'Twilight. Why?'

I told him about the events of the night and Gautier's proposition.

'And you believed him?' he said, voice holding a hint of incredulousness.

'I really don't know what to think.'