THE BLOOD KISS.

SHILOH WALKER.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS.

Thank you, Cindy Hw.a.n.g for making that call and Lora and AK for making sure Cindy and I connected.

Pam, thanks for always believing in me.

Thanks to my family, especially my mom. You always seemed to know I'd do this some day.

And last, but definitly not least, my own little family, my kids and my husband, Jerry. I love all of you more than I can possibly say. You're the reason I get up in the morning, my reason for living, and I thank G.o.d every day for giving the three of you to me.

Chapter One.

Roman Montgomery was p.i.s.sed. Staring at the woman in front of him, he throttled down the rage and hoped the amba.s.sador wasn't very familiar with his kind. Behind the dark shades he wore, his blue eyes were glowing and spinning with the heat of his anger.

"The clan has done nothing to provoke this. Have your people forgotten the old law?"

The tall, slim blonde smiled, an icy smile that could freeze the blood of a lesser man, as she crossed one silk-clad leg over the other. The filmy ivory silk did little to hide their length or shape, and the dark circles of her nipples pressed tauntingly against the matching blouse.

It was just like her kind. Most likely she was testing him, the new An Ri Mac Tire, the wolf king of Wolfclan Montgomery, testing his strength, his control... and his patience as well, although he kept that hidden.

"Master," she said mockingly. "The young wolf was fool enough to dare to enter our lands. Wolfclan Montgomery has obeyed the law... but he has not. The House of Capiet has obeyed the law. We gave him warning; he did not leave. Now we have the right to do as we see fit with the puppy."

"Wolfclan leaves the House of Capiet alone. We have not bothered your family in ages," he rasped as his rage started to leak through.

"I believe the whelp was making too many of the cousins nervous. He didn't leave as ordered. As the old law allows, we protected our territory."

"Isabeta, you know as well as I do, a nineteen-year-old boy is no threat to the House of Capiet. Release him. Now." Roman wasn't going to leave one of his at the mercy of the Capiet. Even the thought made his lip curl.

"Nineteen-year-old boys can be very dangerous-they are entirely too tempting to our youth and the newly changed, especially the bloodkin of the new wolf king." Her lids lowered... until only the smallest sliver of her pale amber eyes showed, gleaming richly in the darkness of the room. "Many would risk much to have but one taste of blood as rich as his must be. Brother to the An Ri Mac Tire, I imagine his blood is potent indeed."

Roman bared his teeth at her and whispered, "You will not be finding out, Isabeta. None of you will. Release him."

He didn't even blink as her skin started to glow and the rich scent of her skin, her blood, and her s.e.x grew heavy in the air. "He was too reckless, a danger to himself, so flagrantly entering our land-challenging us. Lord Eduard has done you a favor. The boy will be alive at the end of his sentence. Be thankful."

"You freely admit he was not committing any ill in your territory-that he even helped two young women, in fact. He has done no hunting, has broken no laws other than this archaic territorial bulls.h.i.t. Yet you intend to lock him up for twenty years."

Isabeta smiled sweetly. "You are an intelligent man. For a dog."

Roman smiled back, a chilly one that brought a look of mild apprehension across her lovely features before she smoothed it away. "Master. I hope you recall the laws as well as your father did. Steven broke the Law. We will see our sentence through."

Roman c.o.c.ked a brow at her and said, "I remember the elder laws. I know them well. Let us see how well the House remembers-of course the elders are likely to have forgotten. Senility can settle in after a few centuries."

Isabeta sneered at him. "Foolish dog." Rising, she threw her arms out, a cool smile on her red mouth and an evil look in her eyes. Wind tore the room, and her figure went misty until the vamp magic totally hid her from view.

When it cleared, a gray owl stood where Isabeta had been. She screeched at Roman, laughing, and then leaped into the air, winging past Roman, her broad wings caressing the air beside his rigid face and blowing his tousled golden hair into his eyes.

When the owl was out of hearing range, Roman turned toward his mother standing rigidly beside him. "Everything will be fine, Mama. I swear."

She shook her head. "They have my baby," she said, tears of rage, of fear filling her crystalline blue eyes.

Now that the vampb.i.t.c.h was gone he could actually release some of his own personal feelings. Not those of the leader, but of the brother.

Oh, he had no doubt Steve went to Louisiana to cause trouble. But he was a kid.

He certainly was no threat to the House of Capiet. One lone werewolf not even in his prime could only do so much damage. And the trouble Steven had gone searching for had been of the carnal variety. The kid had been looking to get laid. Hard and often.

h.e.l.l. It was New Orleans.

The majority of the tourists there were looking to get laid, get drunk, or both.

"I'll get him back, Mama."

She threw her head back, her eyes blazing. "But will he be whole? Sane? You know the damage a vampire can do. Do you really believe they will just let him sit? No, they will torture him, try to drive him mad."

Roman took a deep breath, trying to still the growing rage that brewed inside. "He is brother to the An Ri Mac Tire. Thousands of wolves bow down to me, obey my every command. That alone is enough to be sure the vampires are polite to me. They do not wish to risk an insult that will have my wolves flooding their streets, bringing about a possible war."

"You are too much like your father," she spat. "Being the wolf king didn't protect him from death, did it? It doesn't fix everything, being master."

"It kept Steve alive-they had the sense to let us know where he was, sent a very formal messenger to us, letting us know he was alive and safe. 'Safe' in their eyes, of course. But he is alive. Capiet has been known to kill trespa.s.sers. But he wouldn't dare harm my brother," Roman said levelly.

Then he turned on his heel and walked out, away from the sobbing woman, before she drove him mad with fear-hers and his as well.

Chapter Two.

They'd been in New Orleans less than six hours. Right now, the only thing Roman was doing was sitting in a bar. The inactivity was driving him insane, but stealth and subtlety weren't his strong suits.

So he'd left that part up to somebody better suited to it. But that meant he was stuck here, waiting, while he slowly went out of his mind with anger and fear. What in the h.e.l.l had they done to Steven?

Closing his eyes, he breathed in slowly, trying to still the rage inside him. As he filled his lungs with the scents of beer, life, and humanity, he forced his emotions under control. He had to stay calm if he wanted to help Steven.

Running a hand through his hair, he brooded, cupping his hand around the half-empty gla.s.s before him. The amber liquid sloshed as he started to swirl it around in his hand.

Why did you come here, Steven? He'd been asking himself that question ever since the emissary from Eduard's House had entered Ins home with her master's message.

The bourbon didn't hold any answers for him, and with a scowl, he drank the rest of it down and gestured to the bartender for another.

Turning around, he skimmed his gaze over the occupants of the bar. It was the middle of the week, but the bar was fairly busy, with enough people milling around the small s.p.a.ce to make him feel too confined, too hot.

After the bartender had returned with a fresh drink, Roman tossed down a couple bills on the bar before rising. Moving through the smoke-hazed air, he headed for the open-air porch that spanned the front of the building. There, he sucked in the fresher air, and with it, he caught a sweet, light, tantalizing scent.

Warm and female... his gaze ran over the women around him, searching for the source of that sweet scent. A breeze drifted by, bringing the scent closer. Sliding his eyes to the street beyond the waist-high rail, he found her.

A young couple vacated a table, and still keeping his eyes on her, he moved toward it, sliding into the wicker seat. As one of the waitresses cleared the table, he continued to study her.

New Orleans was full of street artists. Some of them sang, some danced, some played the blues with enough heart in it to make his throat ache. This woman was a painter.

From his vantage point on the porch, he could see the woman painting in the dim twilight. A streetlight poured over her bare shoulder, giving her more light to work by. She smiled occasionally at the boy who sat in front of her, teasing him into grinning and then moving with quick, talented hands to capture that mischievous grin before it faded and she had to coax it out again.

d.a.m.n, she was lovely.

Beyond lovely.

Her hair was a gleaming ma.s.s of black silk, yards of it hanging around her like a cape, the ends of her hair nearly to her tight, round little bottom. The skinny straps of her tank top left her shoulders and much of her back bare. Her eyes were almond shaped, blue as the Pacific, and twinkling as she smiled down at the child she was sketching.

Her hands were graceful, long, slim, and pale. And naked. No ring on her fingers, no bracelets, nothing.

As Roman's c.o.c.k twitched, reminding him how long it had been since he'd taken the time to seek out a woman, she lifted her head, looking around as though she had seen or heard something. Her gaze pa.s.sed right over him, a soft frown turning down the corners of her mouth.

Then she shrugged and went back to work, finishing up the sketch and rolling it up, tying it with ribbon before turning to the mother and exchanging it for the $10 bill the mother had fished out of her purse.

An innocent little fairy, wandering the Big Easy.

The monsters would have her for breakfast one of these days.

The soft, erotic scent of her body teased his senses, and he breathed it in, feeling a long-resting hunger stir within him. Now isn't the time, he told himself.

But maybe, once Steven was found, he'd have time to hunt her down for some playing.

As she started to gather her supplies, Roman felt a silent presence move up behind him. With a sigh, he glanced over his shoulder at the man standing there quietly, his hands linked together behind him. Jenner was the only name Roman knew him by, and he'd been around since Roman was a pup, first as his father's friend, then as his second after the Beta who had served in his position died in the pack challenge to the encroaching vampires.

They had pushed them back and protected their lands, but it had cost them dearly.

However, Roman knew it had cost the vampires of the Capiet family even more. Two-thirds of their number died in the battles lour decades ago. Less than half of Wolfclan Montgomery suffered the same fate. And wolves bred so much easier than vampires.

Yes, the vampires had paid the price for their foolishness.

Murmuring into his gla.s.s, he said, "You'd think they'd learn." But here he was, because the vampires had shown their unbelievable '; arrogance. Again.

Jenner smiled, a tiny curve of his lips that for others might well be a sidesplitting guffaw. "Talking to yourself, sir?"

Roman had convinced Jenner to drop the Master he had used for months after his father's death. But the sir . . . that persisted, and he doubted it would change any time soon.

c.o.c.king a brow, Roman said dryly, "This trip may well prove] that I'm insane, but I'm not talking to myself... yet."

Gesturing to the seat, he waited. It took the added, "Jenner, it looks weird with you standing at my shoulder like a freaking valet. Blend, will you?"

"I am a valet," Jenner replied levelly. "Or just about. Our purposes are the same." But he lowered himself onto the chair opposite Roman and jabbed a thumb at Roman's empty bourbon gla.s.s as one] of the waitresses approached.

"So what did you find out?" Roman asked quietly, keeping his] voice at a pitch too low for humans to hear. He had already skimmed the occupants, and not one of them was anything morel than human. At least not yet... he had seen one or two walking blood banks, or vestals, as he knew the vampires called them.

They had given of their blood to a vamp and tasted it in return. Sooner or later, they'd take in enough that they had a chance to become completely vampire upon their death. They had better hope that death happened while they were young and healthy; otherwise, well, eternity was a long time to spend, and old and wrinkly] wouldn't draw too many lovers.

Very few vestals crossed through the change alive, though. To often the changed vamps were weak, and unless their creator was there to guide them through, they usually died from the blood fever that tore through their bodies in the first weeks, draining them starving them, killing them while they slept.

That's probably why the vamps took so many vestals, to keep their numbers strong. Capiet wouldn't risk coming as close to eradication as they once had, when their house had all but died out in the battles.

Of course, the children of the vampire male and vestal female, that was the true vampire child, and they were even rarer. Good thing they had another way of making more vampires besides relying on Mother Nature. Their numbers would have died out long ago if they relied solely on breeding their female vestals.

"He's unharmed, for the moment," Jenner replied. "I had to... persuade some stupid blood bank to talk. Turns out Eduard is a little preoccupied at the moment. Once I finished talking with him, we decided he needed a break-he's en route to Colorado, via the baggage compartment of a Greyhound. And he's nice and unconscious, so they ought to have a long, pleasant, quiet trip before he's discovered. The bus driver was telling everybody to be ready for a long drive before they stopped."

"Find out anything else?" Roman asked, fighting the urge to gnash his teeth. Jenner was so d.a.m.ned... Jenner. Obnoxious and annoying as h.e.l.l sometimes.

But he was as loyal and trustworthy as a saint.

So Roman tolerated the bulls.h.i.t.

"Yes. He's being held at the Capiet plantation outside of town. And there's a rather large party going on there tonight, a costume party for Eduard's blood child. That's why he is so preoccupied right now. That's all the vamps are talking about now. Steven doesn't even seem to be an issue at the moment."

Roman scowled, reaching up to rub at the tension gathering at the base of his neck. "His blood child? Not just another vampire that's been brought over?"

Jenner shook his head. "No. She's rather... important. Truly his offspring, from what I can tell. She's twenty-five today, and for some reason, they consider that a big deal."

"She's old enough to vote with their elders and decide their laws," Roman murmured. "The men can vote at eighteen, but they make the daughters wait until twenty-five. Even those brought over have to be a vampire for twenty-five years before they are allowed a voice with their people. Or eighteen for the men."

Sending him an appraising glance, Jenner said, "You know far too much about them sometimes."

"It's the job of a leader to know the enemy," Roman said quietly, not hearing the bitterness in his voice.

It was a job. And he did it.

He would have hated it if he knew Jenner was aware of how tired Roman was of the ongoing hatred between the clans.

But Jenner... well, he was Jenner. And it was his job to know these things.

And he did his job supremely well.

Every bit as well as Roman did his.