Blood Song

I mean, the man looked fine. Oh, there were a few more scars and gray hairs, but there wasn’t an

ounce of excess fat on that body. In fact, he was in better shape than when we’d been together. Broad

shoulders, narrow waist, and muscled legs al said he stil ran stairs, like he used to run bleachers in

school.

He laughed and his smile widened to the wicked grin I remembered so wel . “We don’t have time,” he

teased.

“No, we don’t,” I agreed, but I couldn’t help feeling that it was a damned shame, and I didn’t look away.

Stil , there was real regret in my voice when I said, “And we probably wouldn’t do it even if there was.”

“Don’t bet on that.” He grabbed the sack of food from my hand and reached into it to pul out an egg

rol . This, of course, left the towel held together with only a loose little half-knot. One little tug … He

gave me a wink. “I mean, I’ve only just recovered from the last time.”

I blushed. I couldn’t help it. With him standing there, like that, the memory of last time was just too

fresh.

He laughed again, a sound of pure delight. “God, I’ve missed you, Celia.” He leaned over, giving me a

gentle kiss that tasted like egg rol and him. Combined with the gentle caress of his hand down the side

of my face, it set things in motion al over my body. “I know al the reasons it didn’t work. But I do miss

you.”

“I miss you, too.” I felt a little pang of sorrow admitting it out loud. I’d loved him so much, wanted it to

work so badly. Even though we’d both tried, it just hadn’t. But even at our worst the sex had been

spectacular, and athletic enough that we’d actual y broken the frame of his bed.

He leaned forward and kissed me again, this time with more … enthusiasm. He even managed to

French-kiss me without stabbing himself on my fangs. He pul ed me to my feet and I let him. Smooth

muscles pul ed me tight against him until I groaned. Then his mouth was on my neck, nipping and

kissing until I felt tension in places I hadn’t felt in a long time. His hands moved up and down my body

with practiced ease, remembering the curves and hot spots that made my knees weak without even

trying. I couldn’t help but glide my fingers over his stil -damp back. I was sorely tempted to pul away the

towel and pul him onto the floor on top of me. To hel with the vampire or the Feds or anything else. I

missed feeling like this. Missed him.

He moaned then, apparently thinking the same thing, because his hands found their way under my

shirt and began to tingle my breasts and parts lower with that old, familiar magic. Even before, he’d

been able to use magic during sex to make things feel … better. Now it wasn’t just better, it was

amazing. My muscles began to ache with need, and the flush of early embarrassment had turned to

heat of a whole different kind.

The sensations were scary amazing, and he realized it, too. Gentle caresses turned desperate and

demanding, our hands clutching at any hint of bare skin. It happened so fast I couldn’t catch my breath

and I realized we were a ticking time bomb. If we didn’t stop soon, a lot of things were going to happen

—some we’d probably regret. But only some.

He pul ed back from the kiss, his pupils ful y dilated and his breathing harsh. A ful -out shudder

wracked his body and his hands clenched into fists, as though struggling against his better judgment to

reach for me again.

I knew the feeling.

“I’d better go get dressed.” As he stepped back, out of reach, I noticed that the towel was tenting out

from his body.

“Either that or take a cold shower,” I cal ed after his rapidly retreating form. I didn’t hear his response,

but I was wil ing to bet it was profane. Frankly, I could use a cold shower myself. My lips were stil

tingling from both residual magic and sheer body heat. Damn, he was going to be a tough man to

ignore while he was in town.

I was stil shivering when I crossed the room to sit at the table by the balcony. The late-afternoon sun

glimmered through the metal ic fabric of the ful -length sheers. I pul ed out the nearest chair, setting it in

the shadows just past the edge of the light, and settled myself in comfortably to wait. The same

magazine I’d purchased earlier was sitting on the polished wood surface of the table. I stared at the

cover, trying to figure out exactly what was bothering me about the picture.

Obviously I felt sorry for the fiancee. I mean, if the real prince was anything at al like the fake, he was

a complete scumbag. But there she sat, at a long table in an elaborately decorated room, facing the

throng of press. She was seated between the prince and a sour-looking old man in traditional garb who

could only be her father.

Arrayed at an angle behind them on either side of a pair of national flags were what appeared to be

military-issue bodyguards, al large, al male. There was nary a smile to be seen in the group. Damn it,

what was it about this picture? I tried to bludgeon my brain into giving up the information, but it just

wouldn’t. Maybe if I read the article.

I started to flip through the magazine and had just reached the page I wanted when Bruno stepped

into the room, ful y dressed. “Okay, let’s go. Daylight’s burning.”

We got back to PharMart as the sun was sinking in the western sky.

Bruno and I had run through one of the chain roast beef restaurants. He had the French—I had the

dip. It wasn’t a perfect solution, but we’d had to do something. The sun was starting to sink toward the

western horizon and I could feel my body starting to tense. Everything was so intense. I could hear

heartbeats. Scent sweat and fear in ways that I would never have believed possible.

“Are you going to be able to do this?” Bruno’s voice was gentle, but he wouldn’t look at me,

deliberately pretending that pul ing the rental car into a parking spot in the nearly empty PharMart lot

took every bit of his attention.

“I’m fine.” I was … mostly. My skin wasn’t glowing and my vision hadn’t gone into hyperfocus. But I did

wonder if I would’ve had a repeat of last night if I hadn’t eaten. Would every sunset be a battle? Scary

thought, and one I refused to dwel on. For now, there were vampires to slay. Matteo was already there,

had done his meditation and was ready to go. We didn’t know when, or if, the bat would show up. So we

needed to be ready.

Matteo tapped on the window. If he was nervous, I couldn’t tel . His expression was serious, even

grim, but that was it.

“I cal ed the order. They confirmed I won’t get any backup from my fel ow priests.” He sighed. “They

admit the vampire is a serious threat, but our resources are stretched very thin here on the West

Coast.” He made it sound matter-of-fact, but I was shocked. It’s a big order, with a lot of resources.