The Darkest Kiss

He frowned. “The clone? The one whose baby we rescued?”

“Yes. She once asked me a very interesting question.”

A dark eyebrow arched. “And what might that have been?”

I took a sip of coffee, then said, “She once asked if a being with two souls can have just the one soul mate.”

Understanding, and perhaps just the slightest hint of joy, flitted through the ebony depths. “Did you ever come up with an answer?”

“No.” I gave him a lopsided smile. “And given the shit fate has been throwing my way of late, I’m not entirely sure I’ll ever uncover the answer. But the point she was trying to make is the same one you’ve been making—I’m not just a wolf. I’m part vampire, as well. It’s entirely possible that the two halves of my soul have different expectations and different needs.”

“Entirely possible,” he agreed, his voice solemn but a delicious mix of desire and relief burning in his dark eyes. “And any other—shall we say, less cultured—vampire would be tempted to say ‘I told you so’ here.”

I laughed and threw a strawberry at him. He ducked out of its way, and the strawberry hit the lamp on the bedside table beside him and bounced off into the middle of the room.

I uncrossed my feet and rose to retrieve it. There was no point in wasting a perfectly edible strawberry, after all. “I still believe I have a wolf soul mate out there somewhere, Quinn, so it won’t ever be just you and me.”

“But will you continue to be the free and easy wolf that I first met months and months ago?”

I padded across the carpet, my toes getting lost in the thick fibers. “Hey, you fell for that werewolf, so she can’t have been too bad.”

“She wasn’t. And she still isn’t. But I’ve always desired more than being just another number on speed dial.”

I snorted softly. “You were never on speed dial.”

“Well, that makes the situation even worse.” His voice was dry, but amusement lingered near his lips. “As I keep saying, what we have deserves more than that.”

I bit into the strawberry, catching the bits of chocolate that flaked off with my free hand. “I think we need to go back to the very beginning and start again. I think we need to date, and learn to be friends, before we decide on anything else.”

“And forgo sex? After the sex we just had? Are you crazy?”

I laughed. “I am not suggesting we forgo sex. I’m just suggesting we include all the other regular relationship stuff, as well. We’ve never really had that, you know.”

He sobered. “And a good part of that was my fault.”

“Yep,” I agreed, then laughingly ducked the pillow he threw at me. “Hey, at least I never said it was all your fault. I’ve come that far.”

“I suppose I should be grateful for small mercies.”

“You should,” I said in a haughty tone, then laughed softly. “I don’t care who was to blame, Quinn. I just want to start all over again—and this time, I want to try and make it right. Or as right as you and I could ever be.”

“And hearing that makes my old heart want to dance with joy.”

I snorted softly and walked back to my side of the bed to grab my coffee. But as I did so, pain hit—pain so deep it felt like my heart was being ripped out of my chest. The world was suddenly spinning, turning, falling, and I couldn’t think and couldn’t breathe. There was only pain, mind-numbing pain.

Only it wasn’t mine.

It was Rhoan’s.

Chapter 9

I hit the floor hard and lay there for several seconds, my breathing panicked and my heart beating a million miles a minute.

Something had to be terribly wrong with Rhoan for me to be getting this sort of reaction. And yet it didn’t feel like he was in danger. Didn’t feel like he was hurt in any way.

“Riley?” Quinn was suddenly next to me, his hands gliding over me, looking for wounds or hurt when there wasn’t any. “Riley, what’s wrong?”

“Rhoan,” I gasped, somehow pushing to my hands and knees. The dizziness hit again and fear flooded me. God, what was going on? “Something has happened to him.”

Quinn grabbed my waist and hauled me upright. “Can you get dressed? Where’s your phone?”

“Yes, I can, and in my bag.”

He spun and walked into the living room. I staggered to the bathroom and hurriedly put on my clothes. The world spun again and I grabbed the corner of the shower to keep upright. When it eased, I found my shoes then ran out to the living room.

Quinn was on my phone. “There’s no answer from Rhoan, either at the apartment or on his cell phone.”

“He wasn’t at home. He was at Liander’s—” I stopped, and horror ran through me. Oh God, had something happened to Liander?

Please, don’t let it be Liander.

I grabbed the phone from Quinn and quickly dialed Liander’s number. There was no answer and the answering machine didn’t come on. And he always—always—turned that on when he went out.

“We need to get to Liander’s.”

“I’ll get my pants and my keys—”

“I’ll drive—”

“You can’t,” he said, almost savagely, from the other room. Not anger at me, but anger for me. “Not when you’re getting input from whatever it is Rhoan is going through. You’ll be putting your life—and others—at risk.”

Keys rattled as he grabbed them, and then he was beside me again, wearing pants and carrying a jacket, but no shirt. He cupped his hand under my elbow as we walked toward the elevator. As the doors swished closed, I rang the Directorate.

Sal answered. “What now, wolf girl?”

“I need Rhoan’s location immediately.”

“Hang on.” Keys tapped in the background, and the computer beeped. “He’s on the move, heading down Epson Road.”

“What’s the nearest cross street?”

“He’s just turned into Bangalore Road.”

Heading for Liander’s house, not his workshop and loft. “Tell Jack something has happened to Liander. Tell him Rhoan might need restraining.”

“Will do.” She hesitated. “You heading there now?”

“Yes.”

“Be careful, wolf girl.”

“He’s my pack-mate,” I said, and hung up.

The elevator reached the parking area and the doors swung open. Quinn grabbed my arm again, and together we raced toward his Porsche.

“Where’s Liander’s place?” he said, spinning the back wheels as he took off fast.

“Kensington. Enter from Epson Road.”

He nodded and the car’s speed increased. Lights and buildings zipped by, but I didn’t really see any of them. I was too busy worrying.

“Any idea what the problem is?” Quinn asked, after a few minutes.

“Maybe, but I’m hoping to God I’m wrong.”

“Why?”