J laughed a cold, hard laugh. "So, who did you betray? Which vampires were you sending to their death?"

I shot J a furious look. "Shut up. You hated us too. Maybe you still do." I looked at Darius, bound and beaten. "Darius..."

His words came hard through his swollen mouth. "I did not betray you. Or anyone. Believe me."

"Or believe me," J said, amused. "He's lied before. He's lying now. I know it. Your mother knows it. Only you don't know it, Agent Urban."

"I'm telling you the truth," Darius said.

I heard yelling, then footsteps outside the room. The alarm would be spread by now. More men were coming. I had to choose.

"Release him, J."

J picked up a key off his desk and threw it to me. I caught it and quickly undid the handcuffs, then tore the rope from Darius's body.

"This way," I said, and hurried back to the window. I turned and took Darius in my arms, holding him tight against my body as I threw myself through the broken gla.s.s and into the empty air. Pulled down by Darius's weight, we dropped like a stone. I spread my great wings wide, arched them, and slowed the fall. Then, pulling hard to counteract gravity and flapping my bat wings with all my strength, I lowered us safely to the ground.

No one had stolen the Harley. I transformed in an instant, a monster one second, a woman naked, standing on the sidewalk, the next.

I grabbed the key to the padlock from its hiding place under the seat. I didn't take the time to dress but jumped on the bike.

"Get behind me," I said.

Darius did. I hit the starter. The engine caught I gunned it. The bike responded like a racehorse out of the starting gate. We went h.e.l.l-bent for leather across Fifth Avenue, careened onto Twenty-third Street, and raced away.

"I knew you would find me. And I knew you were there," Darius said hoa.r.s.ely in my ear.

"How did you know I was there?" I called back to him, not turning my head.

"I smelled your perfume," he said. "The one you always wear."

After zigzagging through the cross streets until I felt confident we weren't being pursued, I pulled the Harley over to the curb, grabbed my clothes, ran into a doorway, and quickly dressed. I didn't need New York's finest spotting me riding au natural and pulling me over for indecent exposure.

When we reached my building, Darius pushed my Harley into the lobby. I figured I'd do what Rogue did, at least for now, and keep my bike in the living room.

Once we were inside Mickey took off his hat and scratched his head. "Now, where do you think you're going with that?" he asked.

"I'm going to keep it upstairs until I can rent a spot in a garage," I said.

"Won't fit in the elevator."

I looked at the elevator standing open. I looked at my bike. "You're right. Now what?"

"You go on up. I'll take it around the side of the building and bring it up the service elevator."

Darius's mouth was swollen; his cheek was turning purple. But he said clearly enough, "Hold on. This machine must weigh six hundred pounds. I'll help. Daphne, go on up; we'll be there in a couple of minutes."

Mickey started muttering, "I ain't that old, G.o.d d.a.m.n it."

I cut in. "Mickey, I just got this motorcycle. I'd feel better if you both went. That way you can make sure Darius doesn't scratch it up on me."

His hurt feelings salved, Mickey nodded as if that were a good idea. He took a good long look at Darius. "You need some ice for your face?" I heard him ask.

I stepped into the lobby elevator and pressed the b.u.t.ton. The door slid closed. A moment later I reached my apartment, went in, and took off my jacket. Suddenly my adrenaline drained away. Fatigue washed over me. I felt like a balloon after the air went out of it. I'd be glad to sit down and relax for a while. I promised Jade her dinner and walked back to the front door, figuring Mickey and Darius should be getting off the service elevator any minute.

I waited. I waited. I poked my head out into the hall. I waited another minute. Then I walked down the hall to the service elevator. I was beginning to feel uneasy. I was standing in front of the closed elevators doors when I heard the sharp crack of gunshots, the sound traveling up the elevator shaft from a floor somewhere below.

I threw myself through the door to the fire stairs next to the elevator. Taking the steps two and three at a time, I ran down the ten flights as fast as I could. Halfway down I heard another round of gunshots. At the ground floor I was about to go crashing out the door when caution stopped me.

I crouched down and slowly slid the door open just a crack. I was about five feet from Mickey and Darius. They were stooped down behind my bike, their backs to the elevator door. Mickey had his gun out, the one he had been carrying in his pants. He was steadying it on the seat of my bike.

"Hey," I called in a whisper. Darius looked over and gestured for me to stay down. Beyond the bike I could see a rivulet of blood spreading across the floor, and two feet, toes pointing toward the ceiling.

"I hit 'em both," Mickey turned his head and said to me. "One of them got away. That Orangeman"-he motioned with his head toward the feet on the floor-"he ain't going nowhere."

"I think it's safe," Darius said, and slowly stood, checking things out. Then he nodded. "Yeah, this one's dead. The other guy's gone. There's blood on the door where he pushed through it. You hit him, all right."

Mickey stood up, his hands on his creaking knees, the gun with its long barrel still in his hand. "I'm old, G.o.d d.a.m.n it, but I still know how to shoot."

He looked over at me. "Ferking Brits were laying for us. Ran at us with clubs as we were coming in the back door;"

Darius nodded. "The hunters must have been watching the building."

"You going to call the cops, Mickey?" I asked.

"You want me to, Miss Urban?" he asked.

"Not particularly, but what are we going to do with him?" I looked toward the dead vampire hunter on the floor.

"Garbage truck comes tomorrow morning. If your boyfriend will give me a hand, we'll make sure this piece of trash is in it."

I went back upstairs. I didn't want to know how they planned to handle the body's disposal. I tried not to think too much about it either.

About an hour later Darius knocked on the door. I opened it, and he pushed my bike into the apartment and set it on the side of the foyer.

"I need a shower," he said. His clothes looked wet and stiff. He looked down at them. "'Yet who would have thought the old man to have had so much blood in him?' Speaking of 'Out, d.a.m.ned spot,' can I throw my clothes in the washer?" he added.

"Give them to me," I said. He peeled off his b.l.o.o.d.y jeans and shirt. I gently took them from him as he walked toward the bathroom. I watched his naked body as he moved. I couldn't help myself.

A few minutes later he came out of the bathroom with a white towel around his waist and another in his hands. He began rubbing it over his head, drying off his short hair.

With his arms raised I could see the defined muscles of his chest. A line of blond hair, darkened by the water, extended downward along his belly. He looked like the Greeks' Apollo, carved from stone.

"Hope it's okay that I skipped the pink bathrobe tonight," he said with a grin.

He could have said anything and I would have smiled back at him. But I knew I had to get serious. Despite how I enjoyed looking at him, we needed to talk. I told him that.

He nodded. I led the way into the living room and sat on the sofa.

"Tell me what's going on," I said. "I need to know. Why were you at Opus Dei?"

"You still don't trust me, do you?" he asked.

"How can you say that?" I replied, instantly annoyed. "If I didn't trust you, you wouldn't be here now."

But in truth there was a small part of me that didn't trust him, a part of me that wanted so desperately to trust him, but still doubted.

"But I need to know. My mother doesn't trust you. J doesn't trust you. I think you owe me an explanation. What were you doing there?"

He sat down on the arm of the chair next to where I sat. "I can't tell you," he said soberly. "And it wouldn't help you to know. It has nothing to do with you or any vampire. You need to take my word for it."

I gave him a hard look. "n.o.body else takes your word for it. How can I?"

"Because I don't love anybody else," he said. "I don't care what they think."

"Not caring what they think nearly got you killed tonight," I said, my voice rising. I stood up and walked in front of him. "If you do love me, stop the secrets, Darius. They might destroy you, but they're sure to destroy us."

My chest got tight, my voice strained. I pulled my hair back from my face with my fingers. He was impossible. I was losing my control and was heading toward an argument.

"Don't you get it?" I said, too loud. "Don't you get what I did tonight? I defied my commanding officer tonight. I defied my mother. I basically f.u.c.ked myself every which way to Sunday. You owe me the truth."

Instead of yelling back, Darius put his arm around my waist and drew me down on his lap. He sighed and put his hand behind my neck and brought my face to his until we were inches apart. I felt his breath on my skin. His jaw was tight, the muscles twitching. Sadness filled his eyes. "Okay, you need the truth. Here's the truth. I was at Opus Dei tonight. I went to see someone there. I had to talk to him. I needed to know if he had brought the hunters. If he did, I was going to try to get him to call them off."

"I don't understand," I said, more questions tumbling into my brain. "Who was this person? Why would he listen to you?"

Darius's eyes searched my face. He seemed to struggle with himself before he answered. "The person is the prelature of Opus Dei. His name is Thomas. Brother Thomas of the Cross. But he used to be Tommy della Chiesa. He's my brother."

"Whoa. Holy s.h.i.t," I said. No wonder my mother didn't want me with Darius. He must have gone to their headquarters before. She must know that. No wonder she didn't trust him.

"Yeah. That's about what I figured you'd say."

I grasped Darius's shoulders. "So what happened? What did he say?"

Darius broke eye contact and looked away when he answered me. "Nothing. He said nothing. I didn't see him. He wasn't there. I had just left the building when J and two other guys grabbed me from behind. I got lucky, in a way. If they had been vampire hunters I'd be dead now.

"They threw me in the backseat of a car. One of the men asked J where to drive. He said, 'To the Flatiron Building.' I got off that text message to you before they searched me and took my phone. You know the rest."

"So why didn't you tell them why you went there? They think you're still a vampire hunter. They believe you're working with Opus Dei."

"And if I did tell them, what then? It would probably confirm their suspicions. They'd figure I'd been feeding information about other vampires to my brother.

"If they did believe that I wasn't betraying anyone, it would be worse. They'd use me against Thomas. Blackmail him by threatening to expose that his own brother is a vampire. It would give them access to the order."

He shook his head. "I wouldn't blame them. It would be a tremendous break, give them incredible leverage."

Then his grip tightened on my neck. He turned my head toward his. He held my face between his hands. His eyes were burning with intensity. "Daphne, you can't ever tell them. Tell anyone. Thomas is my brother. He loves me. He doesn't know I'm a vampire. It would kill him if he found out what I was."

I wouldn't tell. I wouldn't betray him. I told him so. I had made my choice tonight. I chose Darius over my own mother. I didn't have to prove anything to him after that.

Arm in arm we went into the bedroom and to bed. Before dawn crept into the world we made love in the dark, our movements long and slow. I felt naughty and mischievous. I told him I had an idea, that we should work our way, one by one, through the sixty-four positions of The Kama Sutra The Kama Sutra.

He laughed and called me a wild woman. But there is a position in The Kama Sutra The Kama Sutra called the Deep One, a means of total penetration. And so in that ancient pose, my legs drawn up against my chest, my feet across his shoulders, he moved his body over me and lowered his shaft into me. called the Deep One, a means of total penetration. And so in that ancient pose, my legs drawn up against my chest, my feet across his shoulders, he moved his body over me and lowered his shaft into me.

Then I cried out, the sound coming from deep within my belly, low and animal, as I received him. And together, endlessly rocking, we joined more completely than we had ever joined before.

Later, the light of the day blocked by the heavy curtains, I lay in his arms, relaxed, content, almost happy for a while. Too soon, however, troubled thoughts began to overtake me.

Not long ago, on the eve of our wedding, Fitz had had to run for his life because of my mother. He was somewhere far away now, unable to come home, always watching the shadows because of her. And Mar-Mar had liked liked Fitz. His only crime was that I hadn't transformed him into a vampire. I hadn't made him one of us, and with him knowing all he knew about me and my friends, my mother considered him too dangerous to us to live. Fitz. His only crime was that I hadn't transformed him into a vampire. I hadn't made him one of us, and with him knowing all he knew about me and my friends, my mother considered him too dangerous to us to live.

But my mother hated hated Darius. Although he was a vampire, although he was one of us, his change had been a bitter one. He had become filled with self-hatred. He loathed the monster my bite had created. He had lost his ident.i.ty as a man and become the very thing he hated. In his pain and anger, acting out, taking chances, he had led the vampire hunters to himself-and to me. Darius. Although he was a vampire, although he was one of us, his change had been a bitter one. He had become filled with self-hatred. He loathed the monster my bite had created. He had lost his ident.i.ty as a man and become the very thing he hated. In his pain and anger, acting out, taking chances, he had led the vampire hunters to himself-and to me.

My mother had never forgiven him for that. She probably never would. But I loved this man. I was so tired of fighting her. I wanted to live my own life without her interference. Would she ever let me go?

A whimper escaped my lips before I could stop it.

"What's wrong, my love?" Darius asked, and stroked my cheek.

I reached up and took his hand, my fingers tightening around it. "My mother will not let this go. Our being together. What are we going to do?"

"I don't know. Take it a step at a time. Try to talk to her. Fight her if we have to. I won't let her drive us apart I'll never let her do that," he said, and kissed my forehead.

They were the right words to say. But I knew with a sinking feeling, because I had heard it before, never to say never, because never was a very long time.

Chapter 19.

"Of arms and the man I sing."-Virgil, The Aeneid The Aeneid

Day slipped away into the gray mantle of dusk. I had spent the hours of light in my beloved's arms, and I did not want the sweet interlude to end. Spooned against Darius and contented as we lay amid the tangled sheets, I said, "Recite something to me."

Darius had told me once, during the weeks when we first met, that he had been taken captive by the Chinese when he was a Navy SEAL. He kept his sanity during the long months in prison by committing verse to memory. I didn't know if the story was true. I hoped it was; he did know lots of poems.

And I? I had been smitten by poets many times. Tormented creative geniuses were a weakness for me. Pretty words captured my heart time after time. Darius himself had used them to win me.