He stopped breathing and closed his eyes.

From one moment to the next, she stared at him, her heart in her throat, and then she was winding her arms around his neck and her legs around his taut waist.

He pushed his c.o.c.k inside her and murmured in her ear, "I love you, Darcy!" He backed her hard against the wall and ground his c.o.c.k into her, lifting her up, then withdrawing to let her slide down the wall, then up again.

Darcy held him tight. "Joe!" She splintered into a thousand pieces.

His face pressed into her shoulder, m.u.f.fling his cry of release. They slid to the floor in each other's arms.

"Sshhh. It's okay. I have you," he crooned.

Darcy realized she was shaking, and she turned her face into his shoulder and cried.

"Shhh. Please don't cry." He laid her on the floor and blanketed her with his warmth. He framed her face with his hands and kissed her. "I never wanted to hurt you."

His sweet entreaty and undemanding kiss contrasted sharply with his burgeoning arousal. He trembled, and she wrapped her arms around him. "It's not enough, Da.r.s.e. I'm sorry," he whispered. "I have to have you, again."

Impossibly, she felt her body respond. Although she ached from use, she allowed him to push her thighs upward until her ankles hugged his neck.

He pushed up on his arms, angled his hips for maximum penetration, and began to rock.

Darcy dug her fingers into the carpet and gasped with each strong, deep stroke.

His face reddened, the skin of his cheeks and jaw tightening as he increased his pace. He turned his face and kissed her ankles. "Da.r.s.e, tell me you don't want this as much I do."

"I can't. Please, faster," she whispered hoa.r.s.ely.

Those words were all the encouragement he needed. His thrusts grew shorter, faster, until their skin slapped and moist, sucking sounds emanated from her drenched v.a.g.i.n.a. His breath caught, and she felt the spurt of his c.u.m wash inside her, but still he kept moving, faster, harder-and then she fragmented, her cry echoing in the hall.

The SU team was once again a.s.sembled in her living room, reviewing what they'd learned the previous evening. Dressed in casual clothing, they prepared for another night's hunt.

Darcy was subdued, trying not to jump at every creak or bark of laughter. The sun had set an hour ago, and Quentin had yet to make an appearance. She wondered whether he'd noticed she never came back to bed. After making love with Joe, she'd opted for the couch, despite Joe's invitation to sleep with him. Darcy was starting to feel like salt water taffy, pulled in two different directions.

She'd taken a seat on the buff-colored sectional sofa on the far end, opposite Joe. She felt his gaze on her, knew he had questions and wanted to talk about what happened between them, but she wasn't ready to acknowledge how she felt.

Logically, there wasn't any real choice. Quentin was here only as long as the operation lasted. Joe was here for the long haul. Quentin wasn't human. Joe was definitely all man. She risked her reputation and her place on the team by consorting with a vampire-however helpful his expertise was turning out to be. A relationship with Joe wouldn't be without its implications to the team, but wouldn't prove divisive either.

Quentin was a charming, but conceited, a.s.s. Joe was a considerate, straight-arrow kind of guy. So, why was she torn? Why couldn't she just turn her back on Quentin and mark the whole misadventure as just an aberration? A s.e.xual experiment?

Her bedroom door opened, and the group fell silent. Quentin's steps drew near, and the hair on the back of her neck rose. He was coming straight for her. Darcy stiffened and darted a glance at Joe.

His face remained impa.s.sive, but his fists clenched.

Quentin's hand fell on her shoulder. "Missed you when I woke up, love."

Darcy closed her eyes. She didn't need to see the faces of the men she worked with to know their reaction to his little bombsh.e.l.l.

"That's enough." Joe's voice cut through the silence like a knife.

Quentin walked around the sofa and took a seat beside her.

Did he not know how close he was to being dusted? Darcy willed him to shut up.

Instead, Quentin stretched his arm along the back of the sofa and tugged on her hair. "What's for supper?" he asked, his expression guileless.

"Phil's wife, Bets, made enchiladas. I'll check the oven," Max said quietly and left the room.

"I better help." Darcy rose to follow him out.

Quentin's hand fell to the small of her back. "This isn't finished."

She didn't reply and headed for the kitchen. As soon as the door swung closed behind her, she let out a deep breath.

Max's angry gaze sliced her to the bone. Normally easy-going with her, he stared, his expression hard-eyed and accusing. "What the h.e.l.l were you thinking, Da.r.s.e? If you needed nailing, why didn't you turn to Joe? He's been in love with you for years."

Hearing Max's disappointment made Darcy feel about a foot tall. "I didn't know how Joe felt. I didn't see it."

"Is it just about the s.e.x?"

She felt shame wash over her cheeks. What would he say if he knew she'd screwed both of them-within only minutes? "Maybe, at first."

Max raked a hand through his dark brown hair. "It's none of my business, but we're like family. This isn't gonna sit well with the rest of the guys. You do what you have to, but just remember-interspecies relationships don't work." He hit the swinging door with his knuckles and left the room.

Darcy busied herself, removing the pan of enchiladas from the oven and the salad Phil had brought from the fridge. Although her back was to the door, she knew who stepped into the kitchen next. The rumble of voices in the living room grew louder.

"I hope you have something other than that mess in the pan to feed me," Quentin said.

She opened a utensil drawer and extracted a spatula, then slammed the drawer shut. "There are a couple steaks, nice and b.l.o.o.d.y, in the fridge. Help yourself." She turned to face him. "Are you trying to get yourself exterminated?"

"I warned you." His voice radiated quiet fury. "You've bathed, but his scent is still all over you."

"It won't work between us, Quentin," she said quietly.

"Because the guys are mad as h.e.l.l at me?"

"No. Because there's no future for us."

Quentin crossed his arms over his chest. "As long as you remain human, there certainly isn't."

Her eyes widened. "Are you saying what I think you are?"

His blue gaze bored into hers. "I can give you eternity."

"To spend it with you?" she asked, incredulous. "How arrogant you sound. Do you think all humans aspire to immortality?"

"Don't you? And don't tell me you haven't ever considered it." His eyes narrowed. "I won't believe you."

Darcy stopped herself from denying it. What he said was true, especially since she'd met him. "That wouldn't change how I feel. Would it?"

"It's a risky process, I admit. More humans die than make the change. And some aren't the same after they turn. Some lose their souls."

"Doesn't sound like much of a choice." She didn't know why, but she felt close to tears. His argument only strengthened her belief their relationship wasn't meant to be. She turned and opened a drawer to pull out the silverware.

Quentin's arms circled her waist and pulled her close to his body. "I'll make you want me more than him."

Darcy fought the urge to surrender to his embrace.

"You can't deny your attraction to me, and the dark and dirty things I do to you. Did he make you scream?" He grabbed her a.s.s and squeezed. "Did you wriggle your little a.s.s for him because you wanted it so bad you felt like you'd die of desire?"

Darcy's breath grew ragged, but she refused to answer him. Her body was doing all the talking. Her b.r.e.a.s.t.s grew heavy and pointed, and her p.u.s.s.y was damp with her desire.

"Well, darling, you begged for my touch. Think about it tonight. Remember what I can make you feel. You'll crave my hands and my c.o.c.k. Before too many more suns rise, you'll be mine."

Chapter Six.

Two nights later, the team hit pay dirt.

The weather had turned stormy. High winds from the Atlantic whipped up six-foot whitecaps that had the most devout surfers heading north to Cocoa Beach to catch the waves, despite the chilly air.

Just after dusk, Phil radioed in that a group of young vamps were trashing a nightclub along the boardwalk.

Joe drove, with Darcy in the front seat. If Quentin was chafing at the distance Darcy had kept since the team discovered their dalliance, at least he had the satisfaction of knowing Joe hadn't enjoyed the woman's favors either. They'd both been shut out in the cold.

No matter how hard he'd tried to break through the icy barrier she'd erected, he'd failed. Darcy had repelled every advance. She slept alone on the sofa, even though he'd offered to return the use of her bed. He was secretly glad when she refused. Although he was tortured, surrounded by her scent, he wanted her to imagine him there-sleeping on her pink pillows, stretched across the mattress where they'd shared wicked delights. He hoped like h.e.l.l she got as little sleep as he did.

They barely spoke except to discuss the evening's business. Something had to give soon, and Quentin planned to be the nearest man when Darcy broke.

Joe, Darcy, and Quentin arrived outside the bar just as a man exploded through the plate gla.s.s window.

Quentin didn't have to look closely to know the man had been drained dry first. "Perhaps I should go in by myself," he said, his hand on Darcy's arm.

Her scowl was fierce. "Do you think we haven't faced a real rave before?"

Quentin bristled. Those were the most words she'd spoken directly to him all evening. "You want information, don't you? If you go in with your bows c.o.c.ked, you'll turn them mute. No one will be in the mood to talk."

A scream rent the air, and Quentin stepped ahead of Joe and Darcy to cut them off. The rest of the team was arriving for cleanup. He had to be quick. He tucked a stake into his sleeve. Then, letting his fangs slide into place, he entered the bar.

Four young vamps were inside, their T-shirts with Ron Jon surfer logos looking incongruous with their armored faces. They'd paired off and were dining on their newest victims. The bodies strewn between the tables were evidence of their rampaging bloodl.u.s.t.

Quentin lifted his head and snarled, his deep growl alerting the vamps of his presence.

One of them, a lean, blond-haired teenager, lifted his head from the gaping wound of a woman who looked more dead than alive. "You're on our turf. Move out," he growled.

"You're attracting undue attention, children. Did your sire not mentor you in the need for discretion?" Quentin said, with a disdainful sniff. "You lack finesse."

The young vamp's lips lifted in a snarl. "Don't need it. This is a lot more fun. Now, move out, old man."

Quentin raised an eyebrow. "I'll let you live for another minute or two if you answer one question."

The others raised their heads from their meals, their deep thirst forgotten in the challenge he had issued.

The blond, who must have been their leader, dropped the woman and stalked forward. When he was half a dozen paces away, he launched himself at Quentin in a single impressive leap.

Quentin sidestepped the boy, who landed against a table, overturning it and several chairs. Watching the youngster attempt to untangle himself, Quentin reached down and staked the arrogant vamp through the chest. He disintegrated into dust, leaving only his rumpled jeans, T-shirt, and tennis shoes. Quentin turned back to the remaining three. "Now, about that question..."

The trio looked at each other and raised their hands.

"What the h.e.l.l do you want to know?" another sun-bleached youth asked.

"Where can I find your sire?"

"The Master?"

Quentin snorted. Nicky really was reaching. "Nicky. Where do I find him? We're old friends." He took a step toward them.

As a unit, they backed away. "He has his own place, now. If you're a friend, how come you don't know?"

"I just arrived in town." Displeased with their lack of candor, Quentin let his armor reform his face to indicate his impatience.

"All right, man. He's got a place near here. In South Beach Park." The vamp's face morphed. He couldn't be more than sixteen, and beardless. "You aren't gonna tell him we left a mess, are you?"

"I'm wondering how you propose to rectify this situation."

"Huh?"

"I'm sorry to say you won't be leaving this place, except in a dustbin."

Darcy and Joe stepped through the door, moving forward. More of the SU team members peered through the window, crossbows and spear guns aimed at the three.

"s.h.i.t!"

"Keep one alive," Quentin said over his shoulder.

In an instant, two sets of clothing crumpled to the floor.