Selene

He was pale, cold and still, unbreathing, his hair falling back from his forehead in a soft charcoal wave. His cheeks were almost white as the sheets; the circles under his eyes had faded. So had the gauntness in his cheeks.

Selene lay curled on her side, facing him, her shoulder stiff and throbbing. Her face hurt, and her knees felt sticky.

Nikolai just lay there.

It wasn’t precisely sleep. There was no pulse, he didn’t breathe, and a chill stillness spread out from him, thickening the air in the room. She was glad for the heavy velvet-covered comforter.

His inky eyelashes lay against his cheeks in perfect arcs. His pale lips were loose and relaxed, and Selene examined the white marble curve of his right ear. There was a small, hurtful mark in his earlobe—he’d had it pierced, at one time. I wonder what he’d wear. A diamond? Maybe an onyx stud. Or a gold hoop. He’d look nice with a gold hoop. Kind of piratical. A movie pirate, not a real one.

It was strange to see him like this. If she had a cigarette lighter or a wooden stake she could hurt him, maybe even kill him if she was extraordinarily lucky and the stake managed to stick in the thoracic cavity, causing enough hemorrhage. Selene chewed on her lower lip, ignoring the pain. Her lips were cracked and probably bruised, too.

Just like the rest of me. I feel like I’ve been through a week’s worth of ditch labor.

She slid her hand out from under the covers, approached his face. Paused before touching him, her fingers hanging in midair three inches from his cheek. The cold radiating from his skin made gooseflesh stand out on her arm.

It’s a toss-up. I hate him almost as much as I need him. She touched his cheek, resting her fingertips against his skin.

Strangely enough, his cheek wasn’t cold. The chill was more psychic than physical, a simmering curtain of Power.

Her heart leapt and began hammering. She licked her dry, stinging lips. When will it be dark? A tired, drained Nikolai during the day she could handle. Maybe. If she had the advantage of a few wooden stakes, maybe a crossbow or a rifle, and a whole lot of luck.

But when he wakes up, it’ll be full dark and he’ll be hungry, maybe. And here I am trapped in his nest. How am I going to get out of this one? I need a quiet place so I can go over Danny’s book.

Her fingers were still against his cheek. Selene drew in a short, aching breath. She’d stiffened up, muscles protesting the unaccustomed running, tearing up stairs, and getting shot at.

If he wakes up and I’m here, he might drain me. Nobody knows how thirsty a Nichtvren is when he wakes up, especially an old one. No matter how many Paranormal Anatomy classes it becomes necessary to take to keep your funding.

But that would be silly. He’d never bitten her before, and she’d been banking on the fact that biting her would reduce her usefulness as a buffet table. Still. . .

Selene slid across the silk, her skin running with prickles as the power blurring through the air pushed against her. She slid closer, and closer, and ended up next to him, her scraped knees against his jeans, her breasts pressing against his arm.

His arm was taut with muscle, even when he was asleep. The silk sleeve rubbed against her nipple. She shivered slightly, the sensation spilling through her familiar as an old coat. He had lain next to her through so many nights, it was hard not to feel comforted.

Even if he did think he owned her. Or, if she was to be absolutely honest, he did own her. If it wasn’t him it would be some other Power. She’d been lucky to stay under the radar, moving from city to city to collect her college credits. Nobody powerful enough to grab her and use her like a battery had ever noticed her and Danny.

Until Nikolai.

Memory swallowed her whole.

Nikolai, waiting until the man gave her the roll of cash and went away with a spring in his step. Danny melted out of the shadows, his switchblade out to protect his sister—and Nikolai twisted his wrist, shunting aside Selene’s attack of razor-toothed Power and grabbing her by the back of her neck just like a mother cat would grab a kitten. He bent down, inhaling, smelling her hair, his own scent reaching out and wrapping around her. The silken weight of his attention closed around her, a psychic and physical predator scenting prey but not feeding.

Yet.

Simply watching, making the point that they couldn’t harm him, that he could do what he wanted with them both.

“Peace,” he finally said, the Power in his voice stroking and teasing her skin. She went limp and trembling against him, the curse making her own body a traitor, liquid heat pooling between her legs. “Peace, Selene. And you too, Daniel. You are under my protection. I am Nikolai, and you have heard of me, verscht za? Now we will discuss a few things, and you will go to your new home.”

He had handed Selene a thick roll of bills, enough to cover first, last, deposit—and several more months of life in a decent apartment. Tossed her brother the keys to a temporary room in the apartment house on Flight Street, along with a receipt for two weeks’ rent. And to finish everything, he flushed her with enough Power to last her for weeks.

And afterwards, she never had to feed in alleyways again. There was always Nikolai, even when she tried to find another source of sex for the Power she needed. Nikolai, who had, she suspected, smoothed the way for her teaching job and some of the other. . . less normal jobs she took to bring in some cash, like helping Jack track cold case criminals and cleaning out poltergeist infestations or hauntings. Always showing up, always bailing Selene out, always Nikolai pushing her, seducing her, cajoling her—

She brushed her knuckles against his cheek. His skin wasn’t like hers—it was a different texture, slightly rougher, but with a finer grain than human skin. It was why he looked so pale, and so perfect. If he had been awake, he might have leaned into her touch, rubbed his cheek against her. Then he might have turned on his side and touched her too.

If he was hungry. If he needed the charge feeding off sex would give him. And maybe he even liked it. Most people liked sex, they just felt guilty about it afterward.

But he wasn’t strictly a person, either. He had been once—every Nichtvren was before they got Turned—but he wasn’t now. He was old, she didn’t know how old. The older a Nichtvren got, the more their psyches changed.

Immortality was hard on humanity. Or anything that might be called humanity surviving in a pale, perfect, bloodsucking shell.

She brushed his lips, shivering again as her finger sank past the skin and met the smooth enamel of his teeth, careful not to brush the sharp edges. She was wet again between her legs, her heart pounding and her breath coming in light, quick bursts.

Selene trailed her fingers down his chin, touched his jaw, slid her fingers down his throat. No pulse. His collarbones were still, not moving with human breath. Daylight sleep. She could see where the stories of corpses rising came from, centuries of Nichtvren living in the shadows, merely rumors and bad stories before the Awakening, when everything turned out to be all too real.

And very, very dangerous.

She skated her fingers over his chest, felt muscle under the silk. The Turn gave them denser bone and muscle, greater endurance, greater speed and agility. And, of course, enough paranormal magick and Power to run a block generator. The juice only seemed to accumulate, the older they got.

She touched the waistband of his jeans and bit her lip again, ignoring the pain. Human enough for some things. Her fingers traced the brass button on his waistband. Alive enough for some things.

The medallion rested chill against her skin. She still didn’t know what the damn thing said. Although it did seem to frighten off most of the small-fry paranormals. Even some of the bigger ones. If it held Power, there might be a way to charge it, and use the trickle of energy to stave off the worst effects of her Talent. Somehow.

The cold in the air stilled, lying heavily over the bed. Selene traced the edges of the brass button, thinking.

It’s tempting. Very tempting. After all, he’s been hanging around for how long? Acting like he owns me, but Jorge and Netley saved my life. I suppose I should be grateful.

Then again, how is he involved with this? “Give my regards to Nikolai.”

She looked at his face again. With his eyes closed, and without the flush of life, he was carved out of some white rock, polished to an unforgiving matte finish. His lips were pale, barely darker than his skin, and the shadows of his eyelashes and eyebrows were ink lines, drawn carefully by an artist.

I don’t even know when he was Turned, or where he’s from, or who he was when he was human. She worked the brass button between her fingers. Or why he follows me around. I’m a tantraiiken, and valuable, and he’s the. . . I don’t know. Am I just easy food? A good lay?

“Give my regards to Nikolai.” Another Nichtvren, most likely. Dammit, I have enough trouble with this one.

The cold prickling power in the air pulsed. Selene gasped and scrambled back, her entire body singing a three-part chorus medley of pain. And to top it all off, she was hungry, and needed the bathroom.

She propped herself gingerly on her raw hands and looked around. A bed, two leather wingback chairs in front of the empty fireplace and mantel with its single vase and dead dried rose perched atop it, a table between the chairs, a closed set of doors that looked like a closet, an iron-bound door made of some dark wood with a bar of iron as thick as both her legs together across it, and another door, this one slightly open, showing a yellow slice of electric light and the edge of a mirror.

That’s probably a bathroom. The situation immediately looked brighter.

She slid out of the bed slowly, wincing as her feet hit chill hardwood. She limped over to the double doors and found that they were indeed a closet, complete with a light switch that turned on some very dim overhead fixtures, with suits and silk T-shirts hung in neat rows, jeans and chinos and—she raised her eyebrows at this—ten pairs of leather pants all neatly hung up, as well as racks of shoes, from loafers to engineer boots, and several pairs of Nikos sneakers.

What a clotheshorse, she thought, biting back a laugh. The sound was thin and weak in the absolute quiet.

She took a gray cashmere sweater down from a hanger, and contemplated the pants. Doesn’t this man have any sweats? Another tired giggle escaped her. Christos. I wish I’d worn jeans yesterday.

There, on a set of shelves, were a few pairs of sweats and some tank tops, neatly folded. They looked like workout gear. A pair of padded gloves lay on top of the pile.

She took a pair of gray sweatpants, trying not to feel like a thief. I need clothes, I can’t run around naked, and I didn’t bring anything with me, she told herself sternly. I wasn’t allowed to bring anything with me. I need a shower, and then I’ll look at Danny’s book. I can’t have slept that long, Nikolai should still be out for a good while.

With her course of action decided, she hobbled out of the closet and left the doors open. He’d be able to tell she’d been poking around in there anyway.

She glanced over and saw him lying on his back, still and cold. The bed was rumpled right next to him, with a dent in the white pillows where her head had rested, and a warm feeling crept up from her belly. Her cheeks flamed.

Stop it. He’s not human, and he wouldn’t even let you go and see Danny. That’s what’s important—finding whoever hurt my brother. And keeping one step ahead of whatever leverage Nikolai’s going to use on me next.

The image of Danny’s apartment rose up in front of her again, and Selene closed her eyes, swaying. Her ankle ached. She’d have to be careful unless she used some Power to help her body heal. But that would only speed up the inevitable—she’d need Nikolai again. Or someone else.

She limped into the bathroom, finding that it was functional, even if it was done in black lacquer and dark-blue tile. I don’t think much of his color scheme. Her forlorn little giggle bounced off the tiles and echoed in the huge shower stall. The sunken bathtub was big enough to keep koi in, and the bank of mirrors and vanity space along one wall would have been kind of amusing if it wasn’t so chill and clean. There was nothing personal about this room, and Selene shivered. He probably doesn’t use it. Nichtvren don’t need a lot of cleaning up.

She closed the door behind her, tossed the new clothes over an acre of counter space. Stepped out of her panties, wincing as they slipped past her raw knees. Hobbled to the toilet, and for a minute or two, all other considerations were lost in sheer relief.

I will never, she told herself for the ten thousandth time, go camping. Or go anywhere without basic toilet facilities. So help me God. I had enough of outhouses growing up.

After she flushed, she yawned and decided a shower would be best. She might drown in the huge glossy black bathtub, and they wouldn’t find her for days.

It took her a second to figure out which set of knobs went with the side of the shower she wanted to use, and hot water was soon cascading down, filling the air with steam. There were black towels hung up on a rack, and she took down two of them and tossed them on top of the clothes.

Hot water stung her cuts and scrapes but felt wonderful against her bruises. It was hard to wash her hair—her shoulder ached every time she moved her arm—but she managed. It was a good thing he had shampoo—some European kind, with the bottle done in French. It smelled strange, like musky roses, but it got the job done, and she stood for a long time under the heat, water beating on her nape, running down her back, sliding over the curves of her body.

Hot water had always been a luxury. It cost two candy bars or fifteen cigarettes for five minutes in a shower. Why bother when you could bathe in a bucket? She shivered, and let her mind go blank, enjoying the sheer, gratuitous extravagance.

Her eyes closed. She lost herself there for a long time, swaying on her throbbing ankle, the medallion glinting under the hot water. Pure heaven.

It was a shock when fingers brushed up her back. Selene whirled, her ankle giving out, and almost fell against the slick tiles.

Nikolai caught her, his arms sliding under hers. He set her carefully on her feet again. She hadn’t even heard the shower door opening—always assuming he’d opened it, and not just materialized in the damn stall using that shimmer-thing he was so fond of.

“Goddammit, Nikolai!” she yelled, the sound bouncing off the tiles. Her own voice made her flinch. “Don’t do that!”

He cocked his head to the side, water beating against his shoulder. His hair was already starting to stick to his skull, weighed down with water, and he smiled. It was the good-natured grin again, white teeth gleaming, and Selene felt her knees give out and her heart give a shattering leap. Oh, Christos, don’t tell me he’s naked—of course he’s naked, we’re in the shower. She glanced down, then just as quickly glanced back up.

There seemed to be no air left in the entire room.

He still watched her, black eyes fixed on her face. “I see you’ve made yourself at home.” His voice cut through the sound of rushing water and made Selene’s already-burning cheeks flame even hotter.

Why the bloody hell doesn’t he leave me ALONE? A traitorous bubble of excitement burst at the base of her spine. He was definitely interested—completely erect, a hard length pressing into the softness of her lower belly. Her throat was absolutely dry, and she couldn’t back up. The only place to go was against the tiled wall, and that would make the situation even more interesting.

Time to beg a little. Christos, can’t he leave me alone? “Not now. Please. Not now, Nikolai.”

“Then when?” he asked, softly, crowding her even more. She only reached his collarbone, and even if she tipped her head back and looked up at him it was uncomfortably like admitting defeat. She did it anyway, shoving her wet hair back over her shoulders, her elbow bumping into his chest. It was like hitting a rock, and she flinched.

“It’s bad manners to even ask at a time like this.” She set her jaw and glared at him. For Christos’s sake, my brother was just murdered and all you can think of is sex? Just like a goddamn man.

He actually laughed, and slid away to the side. Selene’s entire body swayed, leaning after him. But he turned his back on her, stepping under the jet of hot water, and she crossed her arms over her breasts. Her nipples were as hard as chips of rock.

Well, he’s got a cute ass, at least. She watched muscle move under his skin as he reached up for the shampoo. The signet ring gleamed on his hand, but that wasn’t what caught Selene’s attention. There were four silvery scars down his back, running from his shoulders almost to his hips. They looked jagged. I’ve never seen those before. And Nichtvren don’t scar; those are from before he was Turned.

Before she knew what she was doing, she had stepped forward, flinching as her ankle sent up another burst of pain, and laid her hand flat across two of the scars. They were smooth and hard, different from the rest of his skin. She moved her palm up gently a few millimeters, wondering where they had come from.

Nikolai was completely motionless, his hand raised halfway to the chrome rack holding the soap. He might as well have been a statue. Liquid heat pooled in Selene’s belly. She licked her lips, tasted the water—and oddly enough, him. It was as if he’d kissed her, night and dark and something not quite human on her tongue.

“Where did these come from?” Her voice bounced eerily off the tiles.

He said nothing, but his head dropped forward a little, dark hair running with water.

Oh, I get it. I’m good enough to fuck, since I’m a tantraiiken, but he won’t tell me a goddamn thing. Because I’m only human, even if I’m a paranormal. She swallowed the lump in her throat again. I’m just off-balance because of Danny, that’s all. I should never have asked. He’s just playing games. Fucking sucktooth games. “Fine. Forget it.”

She fumbled for the shower door and wrenched it open. Thank God this thing is big enough for a hippo to bathe in. There wasn’t a bath mat and she didn’t want to slip and crack her head open, so a fresh towel got flung on the floor. One of the towels she’d thrown on the counter went around her hair. The third towel she used to start patting herself dry, avoiding some of the scrapes and dabbing gingerly at others until she was reasonably sure she wouldn’t freeze to death.

Selene couldn’t stop calculating the cost of the laundry, or the sheer volume of hot water still running in the shower behind her. She struggled into the gray sweater, her shoulder grinding, stepped into the sweatpants. The water just kept on pounding, and the air was thick with steam. Nikolai said nothing. Through the glass of the shower door she could see the pale shape of him against the wet blackness of the tiles, his arm still upraised. He hadn’t moved.

Her ankle threatened to give at any moment, but she managed, leaving the wet towels tossed on the floor. Why bother being neat? He’s rich enough. She yanked the bathroom door open and limped out into the sanctum. Bedroom. Sanctum. Whatever.

She scrubbed at her hair as she hobbled across the room. The bed was neatly made, and there was—surprise, surprise, how does he do it, folks—a fire in the fireplace now. That was good—she settled gingerly in one of the chairs and let the heat leach into her. She scrubbed at her hair fiercely, and was surprised to find tears welling up in her eyes again.

I don’t care. He’s only a sucktooth, anyway.

***

Nikolai’s thralls were human, so there was food in the house. Best of all, Jorge brought a covered tray into the room. He was pale, but seemed all right, even though he moved very slowly. Selene leapt to her feet as soon as the sanctum’s door creaked open—or she tried to, she had to stop halfway and hold onto the chair. “Jorge!” She hobbled as quickly as she could across the floor and tried to take the tray from him.

He shook his head and stepped past her, crossing the room with long mechanical strides to set the tray on the table between the two chairs with finicky precision. The thoughtful, glazed look on his face didn’t change.

“Hi, Jorge. How are you? I mean, you just got shot, but. . .God, I’m glad you’re still alive.”

“I am too.” Jorge settled the tray to his satisfaction. The red polo shirt strained at his massive shoulders, and he was barefoot in immaculate khakis with creases sharp enough to slice bread. It was the first time she’d seen him without a suit on, and he still looked dapper.

Selene held the back of the chair, staring at him. He looks drugged. Of course, he’s probably in pain, but if he’s carrying trays around it can’t be that bad, right? Right? Nikolai wouldn’t make him walk around if it was serious, would he?

“Nikolai usually has coffee when he rises, and I brought some snacks for you.” His hazel eyes were flat and dull, his mouth bloodless. The burn on his cheek looked old and half-healed instead of fresh, and a chill touched her neck. Thralls healed quickly, if their Master let them. It was a fine time to wish she’d studied more about thralls than Nichtvren themselves.

And why does Nikolai have coffee? Nichtvren like acidic drinks, but it probably gives him stomach cramps. “What’s wrong with you? Why didn’t you go to a clinic?” They have good ones in the city, not like the death-holes in the camps. “I would have gone with you.”

Her eagerness sounded pathetic, she realized. I would have loved to go with you, I could have caught a cab home. I could have been in my own bed.

Unless someone or something did indeed know where she lived, and was waiting there for her.

Now there was an awful thought.

“I’m expendable,” he said, steadily. “You’re not. Don’t worry, I’m fine. It was only a flesh wound, and I’m not feeling it now.” His bald head gleamed. The lamp by the side of the bed was glowing brighter now, and there were recessed track lights on the high ceiling, spotlighting the chairs and the bed.

Selene’s fingers curled into fists, resting on the leather. “You got shot, Jorge. We should have gone to a hospital. And what the hell is wrong with you? You’re. . .” Her mouth worked for a moment, not finding any applicable words. Her hair lay chill and wet against the back of her neck.

“He’s a thrall, and his Master is fully awake.” Nikolai said from the bathroom door. “He’s also in some pain, which I am keeping from him. As a Master should. He performed well, it is not right to allow him to suffer.” He wore a white button-down dress shirt and a pair of jeans, and his hair was slick with water. That made his face look even sharper, aquiline nose and high cheekbones standing out, black eyes glittering with the green-gold predator’s shine.

The ever-present urge to smooth her hair and check for loose threads almost made Selene glance down at her own clothes. Or his clothes, whatever way you wanted to look at it.

He performed well? I guess so, here I am. Selene leaned on her good ankle, watching him carefully. He barely glanced at her, crossing the room and settling into the other leather chair. Jorge took the lid off the tray. He moved like a mechanical waxwork, each gesture stopped with a tiny jerk.

She backed up, limping a little, until she was a fair distance from the fireplace. Then she turned on her heel. Her purse and the blue canvas bag were lying against the wall on the far side of the bed, untouched. Or at least, apparently untouched.

“I thought you would want to see Jorge,” Nikolai continued. Her back prickled at the thought of him behind her, even sitting down. “To reassure yourself. He seems to be the thrall you find least threatening. Thank you, Jorge. Go and rest.”

Jorge nodded, and marched out of the room with the same weird, stop-stepping gait. Selene bent down slowly, curled her hand around the straps, and hauled both the bag and her purse up. Well, isn’t that mighty kind of you. “Thanks for the chance to catch some sleep. Can you have one of your little mechanical-toy boys drop me off at home? I’ve got some things I need to do.”

“Selene.” Nikolai’s voice changed, dropped into a lower, more caressing tone. “You are home. Come and have something to eat.”

Selene’s stomach dropped toward her ankles, somersaulted, and completed its acrobatics by flipping a few more times and sending out a definitely mixed signal. I can’t tell whether to throw up or cry. She took a deep breath. Her palms sang with pain, her ankle buckled, and her entire body twinged as she faced the door.

“Thanks very much, Nikolai,” she said, formally. “But I’ve got a home, and I want to go home. I don’t want to stay here. It’s dusty and too dark and you’re scary. Not to mention the fact that I have a job that I’m due back at in two weeks and my brother’s killer to hunt down. I’ve got kind of a full ration-card, you know. So just tell one of your nice little slaves to drive me home, or I’ll call a cab, or I’ll walk. I don’t care.”

Nikolai picked up the silver coffeepot balanced on the tray and poured a cup of coffee. There were two black-lacquer coffee cups, and a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. A tall glass of milk. An apple, a bunch of grapes, and a bowl of something that looked like granola. Just what she’d want for breakfast after a long couple of days and a sidewalk shooting. This is ridiculous. Whoever heard of a Nichtvren stocking granola? Christos. Has someone been following me to the grocery store, too?

“I regret to inform you that you will not be leaving my nest until I determine your safety is assured.” He settled back into his chair and took a sip of the gently steaming liquid, his eyes half-lidded. “Your apartment can be cleared, and your belongings—including whatever Power you have managed to sink into the walls and floor—can be brought here. Your employment will be discussed later.” Much later, his tone said.

And that, Selene thought, is that. “I don’t think so.” She struggled for the same quiet tone. “I’ve got a life, Nikolai. It doesn’t include you. You can’t hold me here against my will.” Man, I say that as if I believe it. He could very easily keep me here.

It might even be better, if someone’s waiting to shoot me at my apartment. But still.

“I doubt you will have much will left if I set myself to break you, dear one. Do not push me, Selene.”

Selene’s jaw ached. It was a little difficult to speak with her teeth grinding together. “Don’t you dare. If you want me to hate you, Nikolai, you’re doing everything exactly right.”

“If you are still alive to hate me, I am satisfied.” He still stared into the fire, like he was barely paying attention to the conversation. “Come, have something to eat.”

Selene counted to ten. Her shoulders felt taut as bridge cables. She counted to ten again.

It wasn’t working.

She set her jaw, settled the canvas bag and her purse over her unwounded shoulder, and pivoted back toward the door, left invitingly, tactfully open.

“If you try to leave the nest, Selene, I will stop you. If you attempt to leave more than once, I will Turn you, and your obedience will be easier to enforce.” He didn’t raise his voice, but the room shivered, the wood paneling groaned. Selene’s body recognized the Power and wanted to melt, changing into something soft and pliant. Something that could be shaped. Her heart hammered. It would be so easy to drop down on the bed and let him do whatever he wanted.

Everything inside her rose in rebellion. “If you Turn me you’ll lose what you want. I won’t be a nice little battery anymore. No more pleasant little feedings. And no more status from controlling the only tantraiiken around. It’s not nice to play with your food, Nikolai.”

He apparently didn’t take offense, his tone as silken as the sheets. “You don’t know what happens when a tantraiiken is Turned.”

You can’t do that to me. I’m human, goddammit. You just can’t. “And you do?” Her shoulders hitched up, one of them flaring with pain.

He said nothing.

Now or never, Selene. Get yourself out of here. “Thanks for a lovely evening, Nikolai. Don’t expect to see me for a week or two. I’ve got some business to take care of.”

“This is the last warning, Selene. I have been patient, and I have been gentle, and I have been as kind as my need will let me be. If you would simply trust me to avenge your brother’s death, none of this would be necessary.”

“Tell me what’s going on, or I walk.” She took another limping step toward the door. How far is he going to let me go this time? Any of his thralls would be chained up by now. Her breath evened out. If she had to run, would she make it out of his bedroom?

Not on a busted ankle and carrying whatever this is, whatever killed Danny. What was he holding, and who was he holding it for?

And what did Nikolai have to do with it?

He didn’t sigh, but her skin prickled as if he’d exhaled. “Sit. Have something to eat. And I will tell you what I know.”

Once again, a show of rebellion had gotten her something. That’s more like it. Of course, he could be lying. She stood, irresolute, and finally swung back around to face him, her ankle rolling and sending another bright copper spear of pain up her leg. “You promise? You swear to tell me everything, fully and completely, holding nothing back and answering all my questions to my satisfaction?”

You had to be a lawyer when dealing with Nichtvren. She’d at least learned that much.

Nikolai paused. When he spoke, it was very quietly. “I swear on my Bloodline. Will you swear to remain under my protection, wearing my sigil?”

His sigil? Does he mean the medallion? She racked her brains, decided it was worth it. “I’ll swear. I promise.”

“Good.” His eyes stayed half-lidded while he sipped at his coffee. But his hand shook just a little. The cup jittered, and coffee sloshed against the sides. It was so unlike him she decided not to mention it. Nichtvren were funny about any perceived weakness, with all a predator’s touchy pride and a formerly-human ego.

And for all Selene’s study and a hard-won degree as a Paranormal Species teacher, she was woefully underinformed when it came to him.

She limped back to the empty leather chair and laid the bag down beside it, in front of the fire. Lowered herself down, slowly, reached over to pick up an apple. “I’ll eat. You start talking.”

“Danny was tracking objects for me. I paid him well enough, happy in the knowledge that what I paid him also helped you.”

So you are involved with this, and admitting it too. The two of you, keeping cozy little secrets. She bit into the apple. Crisp skin and white flesh crunched between her teeth. “Danny said he had a good client, that the work was complex but not dangerous.” She took another bite, chewed and swallowed, and looked at him, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “He was going to buy me a car. One of the new ones, with hover tech instead of petroleo.” It was a nice pipe dream, wasn’t it?

Nikolai’s mouth firmed slightly. He took another sip. “Danny did so well with the initial objectives that I set him to finding something slightly more difficult.”

Selene waited, taking another bite of apple. Wiped the juice from her chin. Instead of watching the fire, he now watched her from under his lashes. She ate the apple down to the core, bit the core in half, and chewed.

Don’t talk with your mouth full, Selene. But she was hungry. “What was he supposed to find?” She was beginning to think she might have survived getting shot at and sleeping in a Nichtvren’s bed.

“A certain Talisman.”

“A Talisman?” She shivered. Danny knew better than to fuck around with Talismans; ever since the War and the Awakening those sorts of things had been far more powerful—and far more dangerous. Just like the rest of the world. “Which one?”

“The Seal of Sitirris.”

The remainder of the apple core dropped into her lap. “The Seal of. . .” That’s been lost for ages. She frowned, trying to remember. The Sitirrismi were called Timewalkers, and rumor had it they were the only force the Nichtvren had ever collectively feared.

Of course, what would immortals fear but time?

Not to mention the Sitirrismi’s nasty habit of popping out of a temporal whirlpool to strike where they were least expected. They were paying the bills with assassination these days, or so she heard. It was one of those little pieces of information picked up on a job that she could have done without.

“It was a relatively simple operation,” Nikolai said. “He was only to locate the Seal. Instead, he made arrangements to steal it.”

Yeah, Danny always was an overachiever. Her fingers pressed against her mouth, she had to peel them away one by one. Her bruised lip throbbed. Gooseflesh slid down her skin, for once not spurred by Nikolai’s nearness. Hell, next to the Sitirrismi, Nikolai was damn near warm and cuddly. “He what? He stole it?”

“He made arrangements to steal it,” the Nichtvren corrected, a trifle pedantically. “Where the Seal is now, I have not been told.” Nikolai’s cheeks were white. His eyes flicked down Selene’s body, back up to meet her gaze. “I am uncertain if that is the reason he was terminated.”

You know, euphemisms don’t really work for you, Nik. “Terminated? You mean murdered.”

“I mean terminated. This was professional, dear one. As was the attack on you. Premeditated and flexible, with hardware and paranormal ability to slip past even my vigilance. You have been under heavy guard for quite some time now.”

Now you tell me. And since when does that little Nichtvren jackass you set outside my apartment building qualify as “heavy guard”? But she knew the more serious of Nikolai’s help wouldn’t be visible to a human, even one as Talented and sensitive as Selene. She swallowed, picked the apple core back up. Don’t waste food, old habit prodded her, and she bit the rest of the core away from the stem, chewed it to bits. Set the stem on the tray, and clasped her hands primly in her lap. “Maybe your vigilance isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”

It didn’t come out the way it had sounded in her head. Great, Selene. Accuse him of being a weakling. You know Nichtvren are really touchy about this sort of thing.

Nikolai shrugged. It was a fluid movement, catlike. As if amused. “All the more reason to take additional measures for your safety.” He took another sip.

If it wasn’t for you meddling with my life, I wouldn’t need protection. Though I admit only having you to worry about brightened my days considerably, I still wouldn’t call it perfect. “What do you need the Seal for?”

He looked down into his coffee cup. “I have a. . .habit, of acquiring such items. The original owners of the Seal contracted me to find it, since they suspect a Nichtvren of the original theft.”

Oh, Jesu. This just keeps getting better and better. “You collect cursed Talismans? You’re a lot braver than I thought.” Selene’s fingers knotted together, as if she was still in the camp orphanage listening to a lecture. The Sitirrismi hiring a Nichtvren to bring back the Seal, which they suspect was stolen by another Nichtvren—although what sucktooth would be suicidal enough to do that, I don’t know—and hiring my brother to locate it. Perfect.

That made Nikolai’s lips curl up. It was a different smile than his usual good-natured shark grin. Instead, he looked wry and amused, acknowledging the humor. “I am already cursed, what do more curses matter? And if I possess these items, they are far less likely to cause havoc in the world.”

“Nikolai Nichtvren, the altruist.” I don’t even know his last name. If he has one. Just one name for him, like a movie villain. “You’ve been watching too much 3-D prime-time. When did this happen?”

“Five years ago. It’s a relatively new obsession for me.”

The medallion seemed to quiver against Selene’s skin. “A relatively new obsession,” she repeated, picking up the black ceramic plate holding a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, neatly sliced on the diagonal, bleeding strawberry jam. Just what she’d wanted, really. That was unsettling.

Still, peanut butter was another one of those luxuries she couldn’t get enough of nowadays. Right next to hot water, lipstick, coffee, decent wine—there was a whole list of things she never wanted to be without.

Including Danny. Her heart did a funny wrenching sidestep. But she couldn’t put the sandwich down.

“Absolutely.” Something in the tone of Nikolai’s voice sounded like a smile.

She started to eat. Strawberry jelly leaked over her fingers, she had to balance the plate in one hand while she wolfed the sandwich. Danny used to make a great grilled cheese. Tears rose hot in her eyes. And he never would have taken this job from you, Nikolai. What did you tell him to make him take it? What lie did you give him?

Only she could imagine all too well that Nikolai hadn’t lied. Danny always wanted to protect his older sister; it had damn near killed him to have to retreat to his apartment and let her walk the streets alone.

And the only reason Danny didn’t worry more was because Nikolai was “looking out for me”. But I kept complaining, and Danny thought he’d score a job, a big one. He probably had another buyer lined up. Enough money for us to get a start somewhere, or maybe even a house.

Her heart contracted to a black hole inside her ribs. It’s my fault. “You seem to have picked up a lot of obsessions these past few years.” She sounded steady enough. All things considered, I’m doing really well with this. So why are my hands shaking?

“It must be my age. Selene, there is another reason why I believe this attack was a premeditated termination.”

“I’m all ears,” she mumbled, and took another huge bite. He was smiling, that same ironic, amused half-grin.

“The media has been alerted. They know you—and your brother—are paranormal. Your name has been plastered over the evening and morning news. The press were lying in wait for you at the police station. They may have found your apartment building.” He paused, just to let that sink in. “There is a reward for news of your whereabouts. Quite a large one, too.”

Her stomach filled with cold lead. “Oh, Christos.” Selene swallowed dryly, picked up the glass of milk and took a long drink. It curdled her uneasy stomach immediately, but she knew better than to ignore a meal in front of her. “There goes my job.”

And any hope I had of quietly finding out who killed him. But why alert the press if you think you’ve killed me outside Danny’s apartment? But no, they’d been waiting for her outside the police station.

There was only one answer. It’s a message. “Give my regards to Nikolai.”

“The university will keep you, Selene,” he said quietly. “I will see to it.”

Yeah. As usual, he thought that would make her feel better about the mess her life was becoming. “I don’t want you to pressure them into keeping me on. That’s like the playground bully picking me for a friend. It just makes things harder.” Besides, I think I’ve got bigger problems than that right now. But thanks for the thought.

He persisted. “When you go to work, I’ll send Rigel with you as your assistant. That should ease your—”

“No, Nikolai.” She finished the sandwich, licking her fingers. The jelly clung, sweet and sticky, and her eyes half-lidded. “The job’s done. Forget it. I’ll get something else.” As soon as I finish sussing out who killed my brother, I’ll blow town. I’ll find a way to live under the radar, even if it kills me. She sucked on her two first fingers, making sure every little bit of jam was gone. So this is a vendetta someone’s got with you. Figures.

Nikolai’s gaze was fixed on her face. Or more precisely, on the lower half of her face.

Selene’s cheeks prickled with heat. She slipped her fingers out of her mouth. That was even worse, because his gaze fastened on her lips. “Don’t look at me like that, okay?” Instead of sounding like an order, it came out half-breathless, plaintive.

His eyes had the predator’s shine again. “Like what?” He leaned back in the chair, steepling his fingers in front of his chest. He didn’t look away. Selene’s battered body felt the chill in the air and responded, her nipples peaking and her flesh suddenly sensitive. She glanced away, at the fire.

She could still feel his eyes on her. He had so much goddamn Power, and she responded to it, especially if he wasn’t careful.

“Like you’re hungry,” she heard herself say. And of course, that was it exactly. He stared at her like he was starving—and she was dinner.

“Perhaps I am.”

“You fed last night.” It was the same breathless little voice she seemed to only have when he was around, not her usual confident tone. Isn’t it enough that you helped kill my brother? When did you decide to take over my life and treat me like your personal entertainment center? Poke the poor stupid sexwitch, listen to her beg.

“I do not think it was enough. And you need Power, Selene. To heal your wounds.”

You know, I think I’d like to heal normally. Since you put it that way. She took another drink of milk. Her entire body ached. “I have to start finding out who killed Danny. If I. . .if you feed, if I let you feed, then you’ll leave me alone to go hunting whoever—”

“No. But if you. . . allow me to feed, I will allow you to come with me while I acquire information that will lead me to whoever killed your brother and sought to rob me of you.”

As if I’m a color television lifted from the back of a truck. “Rob” you of me. Charming. She licked her lips, wished she hadn’t when his gaze rested on her mouth again. “Fine.” She set the half-full glass of milk back down. Her stomach closed tighter than a fist. Well, I got the information, I have to pay for it. Oldest law in the universe: nothing’s free. And the second oldest law is that everyone wants to screw you. Literally, in my case. “What is it you want, Nikolai?”

“I think the bed will do,” he said, meditatively. Power roiled and weighted the air; the sudden heaviness blurred her vision, set her heart to pounding, teased at her skin. He had been careful, keeping the full weight of Power from escaping him, knowing how it affected her. Go figure.

The door, which had obediently sat half-open all this time, creaked closed, swinging on its hinges and latching shut with a hollow boom. Selene started, her shoulder twinging.

Nikolai’s smile widened slightly.

“Fine.” She struggled to her feet. Her ankle rolled again, sending a flare of pain up her leg. “Christos, just fuck me and get it over with, don’t make a huge production out of it!”

He rose in one fluid motion and caught her as she swayed. His hands somehow found their way under her sweater, slid against her belly. They molded the shape of her ribs; Selene’s head tipped back. One hand moved against her back, pulling her against his body, the other slid slowly up to cup the weight of her breast, gently, his thumb rubbing over her nipple and drawing a startled gasp from her.

Nikolai bent down, his lips touching her throat, right where the pulse beat. “Now, now,” he whispered. “Do I not treat you well, dorogaya moya?”

Fire raced up her body, and the curse woke up, pounding in her veins. It wasn’t as overpowering as it had been last night—she wasn’t crazed with need—but still, he knew just what to do. Just how to make her helpless.

“Yeah, you’re a real prince,” she managed. His thumb kept stroking evenly. Her hips strained forward, seeking.

Her body had betrayed her again.

God, Jesu, whoever you are, whoever made me like this, I hate you. And to top it all off, I hate him too. Why won’t he leave me alone?

“I feared the worst,” he murmured, his lips flirting delicately with sensitive skin. She was wet by now, dripping down the insides of her thighs. Her hips pushed against him. The radiant warmth of the fire stroked along her hip, her back, only slightly less delicious than the heat of his mouth against her throat. His tongue flicked delicately against her skin, rough and catlike, taking in her scent.

The tongue of the Nichtvren species is full of barbs that closely resemble a cat’s. These barbs have a dual function, both to prepare the skin for the teeth and also in—Her own voice, as she stood at a lectern with eager faces in front of her. A degree in Paranormal Studies was still almost like admitting that you believed in the Tooth Fairy or worshiped some huge hairy beast. Some of the smaller universities, especially the ones which had been ‘religious’ before the War, wouldn’t offer the course, no matter if you needed it to qualify for federal funding.

“What?” she gasped. God, the least you could do is leave me alone, my brother’s dead because of you and your sucktooth games, do you have to rape me too? Only it isn’t rape if I enjoy it, is it? That’s why it’s okay for you to use me, right?

But it’s not. It’s not. It was useless. She couldn’t think with him so close, her curse rising and tearing at rational thought, drowning her in sensation.

He tore the sweater up the back, his claws extended, in one swift movement. He’s getting hard on clothes, thank God the sweater’s his. “I feared you injured, or dead,” he murmured, kissing up her throat. She swayed, he caught her again, moving with her, a hard length pressing through his jeans. It wasn’t his fault—they all wanted her, she was tantraiiken. The same old story, she’d been born addicted to sex, hooked on a drug she’d never chosen to taste. “—centuries.”

“Hmm?” It was a low inquiring sound, she pressed against him again and he swore, something low and vile in whatever harshly-accented tongue his sentences were occasionally salted with. “What were you afraid of?” A gasp tore at the end of the question.

Even that’s a whore’s question, I don’t care what he’s afraid of, I just can’t stop talking. Self-loathing crawled through her belly, tainted the harsh air as her breathing quickened.

The sweater came free. He stopped caressing her breast long enough to slide his hands beneath her bottom and pick her up, his fingers biting in, her legs wrapping around his waist. She clung to him, he bent his face to her breasts and licked, making her squirm. She found that she had threaded her fingers into his hair and was pulling him into her, making little throaty sounds of need.

They fell on the bed, Nikolai disentangling himself long enough to tear his shirt off over his head. Selene found she was laughing. It was the only time he was less than absolutely graceful. She slid her hands into his jeans and found the smooth curve of his buttocks, muscle flickering under her fingers. He hissed something. Her laughter was beginning to take on a hitching, gasping, sobbing sound.

“Shhh,” he soothed, as Selene wrapped her legs around him. His skin was volcano-hot, they lay tangled together, his fingers in her hair, Selene’s ankles locked at the small of his back. Her injured ankle flared with pain and her shoulder was a sharp throbbing agony. He went completely still, looking down at her, propped on his elbows, his eyes gone dark and deep. “Selene?”

At least the space inside her head was her own. “Go ahead and feed,” she whispered, and closed her eyes, shutting him out. Hot tears trickled down her temples, sank into her damp hair. “Don’t mind me.” It doesn’t matter to you, it never matters to any of them. Christos, just hurry up and take what you want, the sooner you do the sooner you’ll leave me alone.

“You’re weeping.” As if surprised.

Selene went limp under him, resigned. Just get it over with, will you? Fuck my body if you have to, but leave the rest of me alone. “Of course I’m crying,” she said, her body gone hot and prickling with a sudden flush of Power. “My b-b-brother—” Shut up, Selene. That’s not his business. The bed was soft underneath her, she sank down helplessly.

“I did not want you to see. . .” He sounded, of all things, uncertain.

Nikolai, uncertain? No. I didn’t hear him right. “I had to. He’s my brother.”

And it’s my fault, sucktooth. Someone else tore him into bits, but it’s my fault. And for once I’m not fucking blaming you, either. Even though I am, you got him involved in whatever killed him, but if I wasn’t what I am you never would have been interested in me and—

He freed his fingers from her hair long enough to stroke her cheek, a gentle and completely unexpected touch. “A bargain is a bargain, dear one.” But still he didn’t move, though she could feel him pressing against her inner thigh, hot skin against slick dampness. She was wet and the low constant ache had started again. She wasn’t drained, but her body wanted completion now.

Again. My curse. Selene’s throat was blocked with unshed tears. “Just get it over with.” It took work to force the whisper out.

“Do you still hate me?” He kissed along her throat. His teeth scraped above the pulse and Selene’s heart slammed against her ribs.

“Don’t,” she began. “Nikolai—don’t!”

“Too late,” he whispered, and his hips came down. She was so slick and wet with need that he had no difficulty—and at the same moment, he drove his teeth into her throat.

A bolt of fire slammed through her nervous system, she tried to scream, couldn’t find the breath. Instead, a low reedy sound escaped her. Her hips jerked up, helping him, he drove into her body as if he wanted to hurt her, long rough thrusts that pushed her down into the velvet softness of the bed. Selene, caught between the sheets and his teeth, arched and tried again to scream.

The first climax shook her, white fire exploding behind her eyes, lack of oxygen making it even longer. It seemed to take forever, her fingernails driving into his shoulders hard enough to bruise, the Power rising through her entire body and spilling through every nerve channel, static crackling in the air. Sparks rang against the edges of the bed, electrical energy spilling out and mixing uneasily with the close, still air.

The warm darkness folded around her. It was the blood-dark, she’d read prurient accounts of it in research texts. Loss of blood and the overcharge of electromagnetic energy driving the brain into a sort of storm; sometimes humans got addicted to it, craving pulsing warm womblike blackness.

It’s nothing like they told me, she thought wonderingly, before the second climax slammed into her, even harder than the first. Her entire body arched, and a long breathless howl burst from her throat.

Nikolai’s fangs retracted, slid free of her flesh. His tongue rasped against the small wounds he’d made, the barbs and coagulant combining to shut off the flow. He kissed her mouth, a kiss flavored with copper and his own breath—and the coppertaste of her own blood. It sang through her, wine and spice and darkness and blood, she shook her head, trying to tear her mouth away from his. You bastard, I wish I could kill you. You weren’t supposed to bite me, you were just supposed to rape me!

His fingers slid against her cheek, forced her mouth back up to his. Nikolai settled into her body, pulsing inside her, he moved slightly and she gasped again. She stretched around him, her internal tissues rubbed raw and exquisitely sensitive, the slightest friction sending waves of sensation sliding through her. Her throat burned.

He bit me, oh God, ohno, he BIT me!

Even now she couldn’t stop. She strained against him, his mouth against hers, his tongue sliding against hers, she was kissing him, tasting her own blood on his lips. He broke away from her mouth, kissing the corner of her lips, her cheek, along the corner of her jaw. Each kiss was a brand pressed against her skin, white-hot. The sparks were still crackling in the air when the third climax took her, long and low like a freight train at midnight, her body shuddering and jerking. Nikolai barely moved, Selene’s own frantic response doing all the work for him. He did kiss her, over and over, printing blood-flavored kisses on her cheek, her throat, her jaw, her mouth, as if he couldn’t stop.

It finally ended. Selene shuddered into stillness. Her eyes closed. Power spilled into bruised and torn flesh, knitting together, repairing bruises and torn muscles. It was Nikolai—she didn’t have any of the control required to perform even the smallest act of magick right now.

I’ve been infected, oh God, please help me. “Stop,” she gasped. “Stop it. Please—”

It was all she could say, all she could even think. Please, no please, please no, please. Begging, pleading, entreating, imploring, helpless.

Too late.

“You agreed to bear my sigil,” he murmured in her ear. Her fingernails tore at his shoulders. He didn’t even have the grace to pretend he noticed.

Her eyes flew open, met his. He was smiling again, that amused, slightly ironic smile, his dark hair falling forward, brushing her face. His lips were stained dark.

“But the. . . the necklace—” Jesu fucking Christos, I sound like Mizzie the goddamn Mouse. I wasn’t ready, I thought he wasn’t going to do that, I thought he was just going to use me again.

Panic beat underneath everything else. Infected. She was infected. Good luck getting a job, good luck getting away from him, good luck doing anything now. He’d bitten her.

“No,” he said, and he kissed the sore spot on her neck. “This. My sigil.”

“Then what—” Her body went liquid around him. It burned on her throat, the wound, a new fire spreading through her bloodstream.

“The medallion is something else.” He nuzzled her cheek. It was absurdly calming. Selene’s skin roughened with gooseflesh. It only excited her more. She moved, her legs clasping him, even while she raked at his skin with her broken fingernails and tried to push him away. “Shh, be still.”

“Get off me.” She tried to fight him, it was no use. He simply caught her wrists, held them down, used his weight to keep her pinned to the bed until the breath was pressed out of her again. Then he took pity on her, maybe, and let up a little. But he did not slide free of her. Instead, he moved again, a shallow thrust that made her entire body jerk against his.

A thread of exquisite, helpless, glassy hatred boiled through her, deepened. I might not be able to fight you, but I can dream about killing you.

“You gave your word,” he whispered in her ear, kissing a strand of her hair. “I gave mine.”

“I hate you,” she sobbed, even as he gave her what she needed. “I fucking hate you.”

He didn’t even pretend it mattered. “Hate me if you like. As long as you live, I don’t care.”