Sam walked blindly to the stairwell and climbed the three flights to her apartment. When she got to it she stared at the door she couldn't open. Lucan had her keys. He had everything.

Then he was there, reaching past her, crushing the knob as he forced the lock, his other velvet-gloved hand shoving her inside.

"Say that again." He backed her into the living room, his velvet grip on her throat as unyielding as the look on his face.

Somewhere a glass shattered. "Say it to my face. Say it so I can hear you properly this time." He shook her, and Sam heard an ominous cracking. "Say it."

Why was he so angry? "I'm in love with you." Now he'd laugh, and stroll out of her life, and kill some more monsters, and she'd never understand what he was.

"In love." He released her and circled around her, looking at her from all angles as if deciding where best to bite first. "That's simply not possible, Samantha. You hunt human killers. You send them to prison. You take vengeance for their victims. You can't love death."

His scent changed, growing hot and almost smoky, as if someone had wrenched jasmine out of the ground and thrown it on a bonfire.

"You don't kill humans." She closed her eyes and willed him to go away, but when she opened them, he was still standing there.

"Don't worry; I'm sure I'll get over it." In thirty or forty years, if she were lucky and found a good, patient therapist.

"Remember what I did to you last night. How I made you feel." Velvet fingertips trailed down her arm as his breath wanned her ear. "It was glorious, wasn't it?" When she nodded, he gripped her waist. "That's what you love. Not me."

The cracking sound grew louder.

"You can't tell me how I feel." She dragged in a quick breath as his gloves slid up to cup her breasts. "I can't do anything to you.

I don't matter to you. What do you care?"

"I don't." Lucan spun her around, shoving her against the nearest wall. "Neither do you."

Sam shook her head, scraping her forehead against the dry-wall. She regretted her feelings for him, but she wasn't ashamed of them. "I'm in love with you, whatever you are."

"Poor Samantha." Lucan curled his hand over the back of her collar and tore off her jacket with a single motion. "You're right; you really have no idea what I am. What I can do to you."

He reached around her, jerking open her blouse so fast that buttons popped and fell like tiny coins around their feet.

She stared down at them. "I can guess."

"I think not. Shall we test the limits of this love of yours? My crimes haven't killed it yet. Neither has my indifference to your feelings. Perhaps something more personal will persuade it to give up its hold on your heart." He slid one hand over her breast, catching the nipple between two fingers and pinching it as he massaged her.

Sam squeezed her eyes shut. "Don't do this. Leave me alone, Lucan, for God's sake."

"I stopped serving the Almighty a very long time ago." He caught the lobe of her ear between his teeth, grazing it with the tips of his fangs. "Now I rule in hell. This is who you love, Detective Brown. Death."

Sam heard a popping sound like a bullet through a silencer, followed by muted tinkling, coming from her kitchen.

Lucan slid his hands up over her shoulders, where he ripped her blouse down the middle of her back. He peeled the sleeves away, gripping her wrists and stretching her bare arms out on either side of her, pressing her hips and breasts against the wall.

Sam discovered she was between two of her bookcases, and grabbed the side of each one, trying to brace herself. She felt his breath on the back of her neck, and then his tongue on the spot where he had used his fangs on her last night. She tensed, expecting another bite, and flinched as she felt his mouth grazing her back. His mouth branded her an inch at a time down the length of her spine as he pulled her trousers and panties down until they were a tangle around her ankles.

"No more pleas for mercy?" Velvet stroked the curve of her bottom. "I like hearing you beg, Samantha. It makes my cock hard. Ask me again to leave you alone and I'll fuck you until you scream."

Sam pulled one foot, then the other out of the puddle of clothes. With her legs free she could run. "I'm not afraid of you."

"Oh, yes, I quite forgot. You trust me." Velvet ripped, and then his bare hand spread over her belly, sending small shock waves through her skin. The other hand glided down, spreading the humming warmth along the cleft of her buttocks before it pushed between her legs. "Do you trust me now?" His fingers went still, and Sam felt her own wetness as they pressed against it. "Your body does your pleading for you, Samantha. It begs for mine. Mine will be happy to oblige."

"The only reason you want me is because I look like your old girlfriend," she said tiredly. "Her name was Frances, right?"

One or more of the windows in her bedroom shattered.

He flipped her around, slamming her back against the wall. "How did you know?" He bent until their breath mixed and she could see nothing but the ghosts in his eyes. Lightbulbs in her lamps began to explode, sending sprays of sparks into the air.

"Who told you?"

Sam felt an overwhelming sadness that had nothing to do with what they were and everything to do with what they might have been. They'd found each other too late; they'd gone in different directions. It made no difference. Whatever Lucan was, she knew that he was the man she had been born to love.

"It doesn't matter." She touched his cheek with her scarred hand, felt him flinch. "I still love you anyway."

His eyes narrowed. "Do you."

The plate glass in the sliding door came apart, the pieces sliding down to fall out of the frame and crash onto the concrete pad of her balcony.

Lucan dragged her down to the carpet, laying her out on her back as he tore at the front of his trousers. Sam latched onto his shoulders, curling her legs around his as he came between them, his hand around his cock, the head punching into her like a fist before the shaft followed, slamming into her with so much force that she slid back on the carpet.

Sam's shoulders ground into the rug fibers as Lucan draped her legs over his arms and lifted her hips, fucking her hard and deep, ramming through the sudden, terrifying orgasm that racked her without stopping. Holding on for the ride was all she could do, and then he picked her up and got to his feet, still working her over him as he walked across the room. He bent, using his arm to sweep everything off her little dining room table, and then pulled out of her, dropping her on her feet.

"What are you-"

He whirled her around, pushing her down against the table-top, using his knee to separate her legs from behind. When Sam got her hands under her and tried to lift up, he gripped the back of her neck and held her down, pushing her cheek against the smooth wood surface.

"Don't move." His voice sounded guttural, thick with anger and desire. "I'm not done with you yet."

Sam felt his fingers push into her, and saw one of her kitchen cabinets fly open and release a burst of broken glass. Then she realized why he had brought her here. Directly above her was a hanging light made of dozens of pieces of dark gray glass that had been shaped to look like flowers.

If it broke, it would fall on her.

He felt her muscles clench against him. "Are you worried about something, Samantha?" he murmured against her tangled hair. "I thought you loved me."

Lucan was deliberately trying to goad her, as if nothing were more important to him than tearing down her feelings for him by flaunting his power. On some level Sam knew that if she fought him now, he wouldn't force her, but he'd win the battle of wills.

She was exhausted, and ready to let him win.

What he didn't realize was how he'd given himself away by not hurting her. He may have broken every glass, window, and light in the apartment, but not a single piece of glass had touched her. His bare hands were all over her, but she wasn't being torn apart.

He doesn't want to hurt me, even when he's trying to. That knowledge made her blink back hot tears.

"I do love you." Sam made herself go boneless under his hands, only lifting her hips a little to give him better access to her.

"What are you doing?"

"Giving you what you want."

Again she felt Lucan go still against her, and then the smooth head of his cock replaced his fingers. With a slow, steady pressure, he pushed, wedging himself inside her body.

The hanging glass above her crackled.

Lucan's hand curved around her hip, his fingers inching down to the top of her sex, where his thumb pushed into the soft notch.

He stroked the pad of his thumb over her clit as he pressed deeper, and Sam trembled between pleasure and panic. She could feel his big frame shaking now, and heard a deep, rumbling sound that might have been a groan. The tight bulge of his scrotum brushed her vaginal lips as he sank in to the hilt.

"Brave girl." With a curse, he started to ease out of her. "I'll make you a happy one. I'll leave you alone."

Sam reached down to catch his hand and brought it back to her clit. "No." She pushed back against him before he could withdraw completely, using the muscles that had tried to keep him out to clamp down on him and hold him inside her. "Do it again."

"I'm frightening you.""Not really." She glanced up at the hanging light. "If that thing falls, it'll hit you first." She pushed her fingers between his and used both to rub her clit. "Finish it, Lucan. Come inside me. Make me come."

Sam didn't think he could, not when he pressed slowly back into her. The only thing that kept her from looking at the glass above her head was their stroking fingers-and the suspicion that something was waiting for her just out of reach, something more important than being afraid.

"Samantha," he breathed as he withdrew and pushed back in smoothly, one hand on her hip to steady her, the other working her aching clit without mercy.

Samantha felt the fear inside her change to heat, and then all that mattered was the melding of their flesh. She didn't know where he was taking her, but there was no holding back now, not against something as primal as this.

His hips slapped against her buttocks, swift kisses of damp skin as he slid in and out of her with thorough, relentless repetition.

The tops of his thighs brushed hers as he pulled her back, making her meet him as he buried himself inside her.

"Give it to me, Samantha," he muttered, tensing every muscle pressed against her as he went impossibly deep. "Now."

He did something with his fingers and hers, dragging them over her labia and then her clit as he twisted his hips against her, and Sam shattered into a horrendous, endless climax that sent her rocketing up and over and back again until she thought her heart might explode. A moment later Lucan stiffened and flooded her, holding her so tightly as he did she thought bones might snap.

The gentleness with which he drew out of her made her catch a sob, and then he had her in his arms, lifting and cradling her against his chest. "If you start to weep, so will I."

That was all that was left now, Sam thought as he carried her through the bedroom and into the bathroom. The crying part.

What had he said to her, the first time they'd made love? Perhaps all of your life's miseries were to prepare you for what I would do to you.

She let Lucan put her in the shower, standing silent and docile as he washed her from head to toe. All the glass in the bathroom had shattered, so he wouldn't let her put a single foot on the floor or touch anything. He did everything for her, drying her with a soft towel, carrying her naked to her bed, and lying down with her in his arms.

"Look at me."

Sam did, and saw that the icy metal of his irises had softened and darkened-with pain, with regret, she couldn't tell. But the rage was gone, and he was handling her as if she were made of silk. "I'm okay. You didn't hurt me."

"Liar." His hand moved down to stroke the curves of her bottom. "Come here."

Sam didn't think she could, and then she was on top of him, and he was sliding into her, not pounding or taking but gliding easily, caressing her from the inside. The sensations became sweet and thick, as if she'd been covered in cream and slowly licked clean, and when he brought her mouth to his she moaned.

"Remember this, Samantha." He tasted her mouth again, catching her lower lip with his teeth for a moment before releasing it and rolling with her until she was under him and he pushed into her with smooth, firm strokes. "Remember us like this."

Sam was so tired she shouldn't have been able to move, but he wouldn't stop, and her body refused to lie there and do nothing.

She arched, shifting her legs to cradle his hips, bringing him deeper.

Lucan never stopped kissing her. His tongue went deep, curling around hers, making her return the kiss. He would pull back to trace her lips with small, light brushes of his, and then coax them open to come inside to taste her again. She felt his fangs brush her lips more than once, but he was so careful that he never drew blood, even when he kissed her so deeply that she couldn't tell where his mouth ended and hers began.

It couldn't last forever, even when she thought it might. Her breasts heaved as she felt herself tighten from her toes to the back of her neck, and something gave way inside her, making her clench and gush around him at the same time. As her orgasm shimmered through her, as bright and silent as sunrise on the ocean, Lucan buried himself in the center of it, lifting his head and watching her eyes as he released his semen in slow, heavy pulses.

When it was over, he kissed her again, then shifted to his side, staying inside her as he held her against his heart.

They lay together until Samantha was almost asleep, and then she felt him rise and leave her. He came back dressed, and used a damp washcloth between her legs before he dressed her in panties and an old T-shirt. He disappeared again before bringing a large glass of water and two of her granola bars, which he set on the night table beside her.

"I'm okay." She looked at the empty bucket he'd also put by the side of the bed. Did he think she was going to be sick? "I'm going to pass out. I don't need anything."

"You will." He took her right hand in his. He'd put on another pair of gloves, she noted absently; of course he would carry spares. The way she wore a backup piece. "You'll never forgive me for this, but I am sorry, Samantha." He bent down and put his mouth on hers, kissing her as though starved for her, as if he'd never touched her once the entire night.

Sam didn't resist until she felt cold metal on her wrist, and heard a familiar snick. But by the time she rolled, he'd already handcuffed her to the headboard.

"When it's over tomorrow night, Burke will come and release you." He stepped back, took one long, last look at her, and left.

Michael Cyprien tracked Faryl Paviere for fourteen hours before the sun and exhaustion forced him and Gard to take cover for the day in an empty, abandoned boathouse. He felt uneasy being away from Alexandra for so long, so he called a halt to the search. A pair of passing fishermen willingly provided nourishment and transportation back to where they had left their vehicle.

"I do not understand why he does not fashion a permanent lair for himself," Gard said as they drove back into the city. "It is as if he moves nightly. But why? Why has he not given himself to Lucan?"

"I cannot say, but we will find him." Michael felt as weary and defeated as Gard, but he could not air his own suspicions. If Faryl had lost the last of his humanity, then he would be living as an animal, attacking humans without discretion or restraint. He could not tell Gard that his brother would have to be executed the moment they found him.

Michael wished he could extend some mercy to Faryl, and permit Alexandra a chance to try to help him, but there was more at stake than the life of a Kyn gone mad. In the past, the American Darkyn had been able to manipulate detection of such changelings to make them seem like things of myth or hoaxes, which had resulted in such human legends as Sasquatch, the manitou, and the New Jersey Devil.

Times had changed, and humans had become more technologically advanced. In this age nearly everyone sported some form of digital recording device. Photos of Faryl in his changeling state could be taken with something as innocuous as a mobile phone.

Then there were the human authorities, who had become far more sophisticated in their quest to control crime. Compared to the devices available to private citizens, their surveillance equipment was the stuff of science fiction. Faryl would have to be caught and killed by whatever means were necessary, or the Darkyn risked exposure.

Michael's brooding thoughts shifted as he saw his seneschal running down the drive toward the car. There was only one thing that could have made Phillipe carry as many weapons as he did, or look so fearful.

"Alexandra. No." Michael slammed on the brakes and jumped out of the car. "He has taken her?"Phillipe stopped and nodded. "Last night. They shot the guards with tranquilizer darts. There was no warning."

Michael knew he should not have left her. Not after the way he had seen Lucan look at her. "Recall the men. Have you sent word to Orlando, Atlanta, New Orleans?"

His seneschal nodded. "Byrne is here and his men are prepared to fight. Locksley, his men, and ours are en route. Other jardins are standing by awaiting your summons. As we are, we will be fully assembled in three hours."

"We cannot march down the streets of Fort Lauderdale." Had they been in New Orleans, they might have used the underground tunnel system they had successfully built and concealed from the world for three centuries.

"Byrne came by sea, and has staged his men here." Phillipe gestured toward the marina across the street, every sloop of which was occupied by large, powerful boats. "He suggests the inland waterway, at midnight."

"There is to be a concert for the humans tonight." He remembered the posters advertising it plastered on the outside walls of the nightclub. "That should provide additional cover. Bring Byrne to me." He started to walk toward the house.

"Master, there is something else you must know." Phillipe caught up to him. "eliane contacted me this morning. The high lord is here in South Florida. He is to attend this conceit tonight."

"Good." Michael didn't slow his stride. "Then he can watch me kill his bastard son."