The knife fell harmlessly to the floor. Jaxon caught a brief glimpse of Barry Radcliff as Lucian glanced at him in pa.s.sing.

Barry's hands were slashed, as if he had attempted to ward off the attack.

There was a streak of crimson across his right biceps arid a spreading stain on the right side of his shirt.

Even as Lucian was leaping toward Drake, something distracted Jaxon-not a sound really, more a movement of air. She whirled around, bringing up her gun as she did so. Drake was almost on top her, his eyes gloating and mad. He had a knife in his hand. Jaxon could see the blood on it, the blood staining his hands.

She fired three quick shots, straight at his heart, as she flung her body to one side, rolling under a desk and coming to her feet on the other side.

All three bullets had struck him in a small pattern over his heart. He seemed to hesitate and swayed for a moment, a sickly, taunting grin pasted on his face.

Then he began to come toward her again. She fired off two more rounds, this time going for his forehead, dead center, afraid he was wearing a bulletproof vest. Two red holes blossomed in the middle of his forehead. Again he paused.

Blood trickled down, then gushed in a steady stream, running down his face, into his eyes. But he continued to smile at her, his expression never changing, and he started toward her again.

"Kitter? You in here somewhere? It's Jaxon Montgomery. Halibut's dead.

Drake killed him. Answer if you're alive," Jaxon called out. She was moving to keep furniture between Drake's advance and herself. She was trying to maneuver him away from the cages holding the prisoners.

"I've got you covered," Kitter yelled back. "Freeze, Drake! You take one more step toward her, and I'll blow you away."

Drake didn't act as if he heard. His eyes never wavered from Jaxon. He didn't blink or attempt to wipe the blood away. He kept moving forward. Kitter fired his weapon, the shots so close together they sounded simultaneous. He swore as he saw the back of Drake's head disintegrate but the man kept moving forward.

"What the h.e.l.l? Jaxx? What's going on?"

"Get the prisoners out of here, Kitter. Take Stevens out first. I think he's in more danger than the others. Go on, hurry up."

"He must be on something..." Kitter muttered, confused.

"Do what I say. Get the prisoners out." Jaxon gave the order in her no- nonsense voice, snapping Kitter back to the reality of their problem. It was easier to deal with moving the prisoners than with the impossibility of a man with half of his head blasted away, stalking another officer.

Lucian, tell me what to do. She didn't dare try to "see" through Lucian's eyes. It was too distracting with two Drakes in two separate places. She was disoriented enough.

At once he was there. His breath was hers, slowing her breathing so that she was relaxed and in complete control. His heart regulated hers to a normal, steady pace. His warmth flooded her body with rea.s.surance and complete faith. Focus on him, angel. Look directly at him. He cannot harm you from a distance. Do not look away from him no matter what is happening. Remember, you are no longer human with human limitations. You are a Carpathian with all the abilities of a Carpathian. You can dissolve into mist if the need arises.

Jaxon was gliding with the same ease of the Carpathian people without really being aware of it. She moved quickly and silently, skimming around a file cabinet as the thing that was supposed to be Drake continued to stalk her. She kept her gaze fastened on the bloodstained abomination. She could feel Lucian pouring strength into her, filling her with confidence and power.

As she stared at Drake, flames began to dance along his skin, licking over his arms and shoulders, his chest, even his head, so that his hair smoldered and blackened. At once the air smelled of burned flesh. Horrified, Jaxon tried to turn away.

Stay calm, Jaxon. Stay focused. You must defeat this one. He is an instrument of the undead, and nothing will stop him from his appointed task.

She found she could not look away. Lucian, please. I can't kill someone like this. The cry was wrenched from her deepest soul. Drake was not fighting back; he was merely howling in a high-pitched, steady, almost unearthly cry. The sound grated on her ears, tore at her heart. Drake continued coming toward her, each step fanning the flames higher until he was engulfed by them.

I know you cannot, my love. You are the light in my life. You are not killing him, Jaxon. I am destroying what is already dead. I am the dark angel of death and have been for over two thousand years. The responsibility is mine.

Jaxon couldn't look away from the gruesome sight. The hideous creature was burning yet still stalking her. Parts of him began to fall to the floor in ashes as the flames burned cleanly through him. She noticed the fire did not spread to the floor or to any of the shelves Drake banged into as he followed her around the bas.e.m.e.nt. She was aware of the officers crowding down the stairway, yet they seemed unable to enter the room. She could hear them frantically trying to get to her to help.

Tears streamed down her face as she watched the blackened ruin of a man finally crumple into a heap of flames. Even on the ground the thing tried to reach her, extending itself toward her. Lucian, please stop. It can't live now, she cried, desperately afraid she would never rid herself of the memory.

It must be totally destroyed, my love, or it will rise again and again to be used by its creator. I am sorry. I know this is difficult for you.

Jaxon could feel his deep regret for having to use her for such a distasteful thing-killing from a distance, employing her eyes-but he didn't relent, holding her in place until the creature was literally a pile of ashes. She slumped to the floor the moment he released her. Her hair was damp with sweat and clinging to her face. She was shaking. For a moment she closed her eyes, grateful that she could. How could Lucian have lived day after day, month after month, year after endless year, forced to endure such hideous torment? Her heart went out to him even as it went out to the creature he had destroyed.

Lucian, a shadow in her mind, allowed himself to take a breath, allowed his heart to beat. He should have known how Jaxon would react. With compa.s.sion for him. She thought of him and his bleak former life, not of what he had just done, destroying another and using her to do it. He concentrated on her, closed his eyes, and savored his own personal miracle. Jaxon. She was a clean, fresh wind blowing the stench of death from his mind.

He turned his head slowly to once more look at the heap of ashes beside Barry Radcliff. Barry was still alive, a surprising testimony to his will to live.

Ghouls rarely failed in their appointed tasks. Barry had fought the creature off long enough to give Lucian time to get there and destroy the creature. Lucian had slowed Barry's heart and lungs to prevent the officer from bleeding to death while he disposed of Drake's clone. Now he bent over the human.

Is he going to live for sure?

Lucian found himself smiling. Jaxon had no idea how quickly she was gaining strength. She touched his mind so easily, using their private, intimate channel as if she had always done so. She was becoming accepting of the changes in her body, the power she was gaining. She was a woman with tremendous control, and she utilized the special talents of the Carpathian people almost without realizing it.

There is no doubt. I have stopped the bleeding. The main problem will be damage control. Barry will only remember being attacked by Drake. I will plant it in his head that it was a copycat attempt. You must make it clear that the same occurred there.

One of the officers shot the ghoul, puppet, clone-whatever you want to call it. He nearly shot its head off. He saw me shoot it, too. Three times in the heart, twice in the forehead. Kitter hit it twice in the back of the head. He knows it didn't go down.

Try to find him as quickly as possible. I will plant a story in the confusion.

Things often look different than they are.

And the ashes at both places?

There will be ashes only at the police station. He will have escaped from here.

The timetable is all wrong.

That can be dealt with. They have to believe it was the same man who attacked at both places, and now he is dead. He doused himself with some chemical rather than be taken prisoner. When the ashes are examined, they will back up your story. I cannot come to you, as I must take Barry to the hospital and ensure that our timetable holds up, but I will be with you at all times.

Jaxon slowly got to her feet and made her way toward the stairs. She was so tired. The clamor of the officers trying to get to her made her realize that only a minute or so had pa.s.sed, yet it seemed forever. An eternity. The door jammed on the stairs suddenly gave way, and policemen spilled down the stairs. She leaned against a wall and allowed them to surround her. Just the human company provided a measure of comfort.

She wanted to be held. As soon as the thought crossed her mind, she felt Lucian's arms around her, holding her close to the warmth of his body. The illusion was so real, she stood perfectly still, savoring the feeling of being part of someone else. The men were touching her, checking to make certain she wasn't injured. She could hear them all talking to her at once, but it was just a blur of sound to her.

Tom Anderson shoved the others out of the way. "Give her some room.

Jaxx, are you all right?" He gave her arm a little shake. "What happened down here?"

Jaxx swallowed hard. The stench of burning flesh was offensive. "h.e.l.l happened down here, Tom. It wasn't Drake. Some copycat-I don't know. He looked like Drake, and his M.O. was close enough that he fooled me, but it wasn't Drake."

"Kitter said he shot him twice, blasted away the back of his head. He said you shot the guy at least three or four times, and he didn't go down."

Jaxon nodded. "Kitter did hit him. I'm sure of it. I saw blood. I rarely miss, but he just kept coming." She caught sight of Kitter and moved to stand directly in front of him, her wide, chocolate eyes capturing his. "He acted as if he was on drugs. Something powerful, didn't you think so?"

Lucian's power was flowing through her. Jaxon could feel him inside her mind, feel him taking control of Kitter. The officer nodded slowly, thoughtfully.

"I don't see what else it could have been. I've seen some ugly things with perps on PCP. I hit him, but he didn't even blink."

Jaxon released the man's gaze. She felt the flood of information, the story pa.s.sed through her to Kitter, and she was awed by Lucian's powers. He did it so smoothly, so efficiently, with seemingly little effort. For the first time she really allowed herself to think about that and what it meant.

There is no need to find new reasons to fear your lifemate, honey. His masculine amus.e.m.e.nt almost made her smile. You already have plenty of reasons in your imagination. If I was going to turn vampire and prey upon the human race, I would have done so already. You are the light to my darkness.

It is no longer possible for me to turn.

You don't need to turn to prey upon the human race. You've been doing it for years. Centuries. You're always getting your way.

Jaxon immediately had the impression of a wolfish grin, a predator's flash of white teeth. She even heard him growl very low. Show-off. Resolutely she turned back to the problems confronting her. Her colleagues had examined the ashes and were crowding around her again, demanding answers.

She held up a hand for silence. "I don't know what happened. One minute he was coming at me with a knife in his hand and blood all over him, and the next we could hear you on the stairs. He said something, but I couldn't really understand it. I think it was something like no one was going to take him alive or words to that effect, but I'm not really sure. It all happened so fast. He had some kind of liquid he doused himself with, and, just like that, he set himself on fire. It was horrible. I thought about shooting him to end his misery. I think I'll hear him screaming for the rest of my life."

"Did you see this, though? There's no body-nothing left at all. Nothing but a pile of ashes. People don't burn like that. And there's no burn marks on the floors or anywhere else," Tom pointed out. "He burned fast, too," Jaxon said. She shoved at her hair. "I want to go sit down somewhere. It's been a h.e.l.l of a night. Has anyone heard from the captain yet?"

"Dispatch just called in and reported they received a message about fifteen minutes ago that Radcliff was attacked by some maniac. Radcliff fought him off, but they took him to the hospital. Two officers in a patrol car were killed on the scene. The perp got away. Could be the same as our boy. They thought it was Drake."

"Does anyone know how Barry's doing?" Jaxon asked anxiously. She was so tired she stumbled on the stairs, and Tom slipped an arm around her waist to help her.

"I'll call the hospital, Jaxx. You sit down before you fall down. You took a big chance going down there alone. And how did the door get jammed? We had to break it down. The thing's in pieces." Tom pointed it out to her to prove his point, then helped her to her desk. When she glanced with distaste at the notes spread out before her, he hastily gathered them up. She didn't need to look at the reminders of her dead neighbors and friends right now. "Let me get you a gla.s.s of water."

"Thanks, Tom. It's been one long night." She appreciated his thoughtfulness.

Tom handed Jaxon a gla.s.s of water and watched as she drank. He had always thought her beautiful, but now there was something more. She had a mysterious, ethereal quality to her. And her voice was so beautiful, he could listen to it forever. Her eyes were cla.s.sic bedroom eyes. He had heard the description before, but he'd never really known what it meant until he looked into her eyes. She moved with a flowing grace, innocently s.e.xy. He had a difficult time keeping his gaze from devouring her.

Jaxon flashed a smile, completely unaware of the havoc she was creating.

Tom was watching her so closely, she was embarra.s.sed. She ran her hands through her hair. "I look awful, I know. A complete mess."

She looked so vulnerable, he had the urge to gather her up and protect her for all time. Without meaning to do it, he settled his hands on her shoulders, intending to ma.s.sage the tension from her. Before he could do so, a cold wind swept through the room, an icy draft of ominous warning. When Jaxon and Tom looked up, Lucian was looming over them.

At once Jaxon could barely breathe. There was something wild and untamed in him, something dark and dangerous in the depths of his black eyes. Not rage.

Icy death. When he looked at Tom, Jaxon was suddenly afraid for the man and not really certain why. "Lucian?" She said his name softly, a whisper of inquiry.

Lucian didn't turn his head toward her, but he stepped close so that his body was firmly between hers and the police officer. He smiled, almost pleasantly, but it looked like the smile of a hunting wolf. "I do not believe we have met. I am Lucian Daratrazanoff, Jaxon's fiance." He extended his hand, his black eyes fathomless, dark pools capable of mesmerizing. His voice was as soft and gentle as ever. "You must be Tom. Jaxon has spoken of you often. I appreciate your looking out for her." He stepped forward and whispered softly. Tom nodded several times, smiling in return.

Jaxon's heart was beating so hard, it terrified her. She couldn't fault Lucian's courtesy, yet his show of power, right out in the open, had rendered everyone in the squad room utterly silent. They were policeman, detectives, hardened cops used to dangerous situations, yet something about Lucian stopped them dead in their tracks. That frightened her. Had she escaped Drake, only to attach herself to someone worse? Lucian certainly had enough power to be worse. What was it in her that brought out the worst in men?

Nothing, angel. You are the perfect woman for me. I am a Carpathian male and cannot be anything other than what I am.

She was reaching up to try to comb her hair into some semblance of order, a nervous habit she couldn't help. She felt at a great disadvantage, looking so disheveled. Lucian caught her hand and carried it to the warmth of his mouth, his gaze suddenly centering solely and completely on her.

Do not, little love. You are beautiful just the way you are. At once the ice in his black gaze heated to a black-velvet hunger, to a blatant love he didn't bother to hide from her. His touch was extraordinarily gentle as he drew her under the protection of his shoulder.

"Thank all of you for helping to look after Officer Montgomery and for trying to end this nightmare that refuses to leave her life. You are all very loyal to her, and I appreciate that, as I know she does. If there is ever anything we can do to repay such loyalty, please do not hesitate to tell us. Barry Radcliff will be moved to an undisclosed location as soon as they are finished with him in the emergency room. He is going to be fine. He put up quite a fight before we got there. Whoever attacked him must have heard us coming and run. He was gone before we had a chance to catch him."

He bent his head to brush a kiss on the top of Jaxon's head. "I am going to take Jaxon home. It is nearly dawn, and she is exhausted. She can return this evening to finish her report. The doctors have said it is imperative she rest, so I can do no other than to see that she obeys. I am sure your captain will understand."

There were a few derisive snorts over that. "Don't count on it," one of the detectives said. "He's never what you call understanding."

Lucian smiled appropriately, but his eyes had gone flat and cold when his gaze turned away from Jaxon and rested on the speaker. "He will have to be."

Harold Dawkins stared defiantly at Lucian. "Jaxon, I need to talk to you in private for just a minute. You understand, Mr. Daratrazanoff-police business."

Lucian shrugged casually, a small smile curving the edge of his mouth.

Instead of softening the touch of cruelty there, however, the smile only served to make him look more imperious, more dangerous than ever. A warrior of old, untamed and savage.

Jaxon reluctantly left the shelter of Lucian's body to follow Dawkins across the room. "What is it, Harold? I'm exhausted, and if the captain doesn't understand that, too bad." Harold Dawkins had worked with her for several years. He was nearing retirement and always looked upon Jaxon as a daughter.

"Who is this guy? What do you know about him? He isn't even from this country. I think he's dangerous, Jaxx. It's in the way he moves, the way he holds himself. You don't see through all that European charm. He could take you off to some foreign land and hide you away where no one could ever help you. There's been too many cases of that kind of thing."

"Seriously, Harold, I don't think that's going to happen." Jaxon tried not to laugh as she patted the older man's arm affectionately. Lucian did rather look the type to secret her away in a harem. "I'm not some sweet victim who can't defend herself. As it is, Lucian thinks I'm a bit of a lunatic. He says I own an a.r.s.enal."

"I wish you'd listen to me, Jaxx. Don't rush into anything. Take some time before you commit yourself. This guy is..."

"My fiance, Harold. He only looks scary. He's really a teddy bear," she lied.

Lucian reminded her more of a huge wolf, lean and mean and highly intelligent.

Except with her. He was always unfailingly gentle with her. She wanted to defend Lucian. He had saved Barry. He had protected the human race for centuries. But she couldn't say that, couldn't explain to Harry that Lucian had dedicated his life to the safety of others.

She turned back to Lucian, who immediately walked across the room to her side. He enveloped her small hand in his, bringing her palm to his chest to hold it over his heart as they walked out of the station house together.

Chapter Eleven

"You are very easy in the company of men."

Jaxon glanced up at Lucian's face. His voice was velvet soft, with no inflection whatsoever. His features were free of expression, yet as harsh and relentless as the wind, carved in granite, yet so sensual he took her breath away.

For some reason b.u.t.terfly wings brushed insistently at her stomach, and she was instantly nervous. She made herself shrug casually, annoyed that she would react so to his simple statement. "I work with men all the time. I trained with them.

Grew up around them. I don't even know very many women." Now she was irritated because she sounded like a defiant child. She had no reason to feel guilty. She hadn't done anything wrong. He was the one acting like a jealous husband.

She bit at her lip. He hadn't exactly acted that way; he was just so intimidating. Power clung to him, and he looked dangerous. So much so that sweet Harold had thought to warn her against him. Maybe Lucian didn't mean anything by it, maybe it was merely his accent that made his words sound so frightening. Or his lack of expression. She glanced up at him again as they moved together to the waiting car. Antonio was holding the door, open, and, for once, he wasn't smiling. He was shaking his head at her as if she had committed some grave sin.

"What?" she burst out, glaring from one man to the other. "What?"

Lucian's hand came down on the nape of her neck, exerting enough pressure that she automatically climbed into the limousine.

"She is trouble, this one," Antonio whispered loudly enough for her to hear.

Jaxon waited until Antonio was behind the wheel of the car and they were moving swiftly toward their home. "I am not. What does that mean? Those men are my friends, my colleagues. I work with them."

"That is why the older gentleman took such care to tell you I was a dangerous man, one you had no business being with? I heard him quite clearly warning you away from me." Again there was no inflection in his voice, only that soft, velvet whisper of trouble.