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  “I’m glad you have that now,” she went on.

  Abel captured her eyes and whispered, “You know I’ve always loved you. From the moment you were placed in my arms, tian xin, I’ve loved you. And you know, no matter how long I have on this earth, that will never die.”

  Her smile was sad when she replied, “I know. As you loved and mourned my mother. And my grandmother. I know, Abel.”

  It had to be said, sometimes immortality sucked. In fact, immortality pretty much always sucked. It was just that some times were worse than others.

  This was one of those times.

  “I need to go help the boys,” he told her in order to move them both out of the sadness.

  She nodded again. “My phone is on the desk.”

  He went that way, snagged it, and shoved it in his back pocket.

  Then he walked to her, bent low, and slid his temple along hers. “Go to bed,” he said in her ear. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  He pulled away but not far, just enough to catch her gaze as she said, “I will. Be safe. Take care of my sons.”

  “Always.”

  She gave him another soft smile.

  He lifted a finger and touched it to her chin. Her eyes went tender but forlorn. They always did these days when he touched her that way. When she was younger, a toddler, a little girl, a teen, they lit with pleasure.

  But now, knowing she was lost to him, had always been lost to him, then Ming was lost to her, and now that Abel was finally found, the melancholy was difficult to behold.

  Nevertheless, he couldn’t stop himself from doing it. That was hers, but more, he knew from experience it made it worse to try and take it away.

  “Rest well, tian xin,” he murmured.

  “I will.”

  He smiled into her eyes, straightened, and moved away.

  He was at his bike in the alley when Xun and Wei rode in.

  They stopped close to him and he saw they had no wolf.

  When their engines died, Xun announced, “We lost him. We need you to track.”

  He swung astride his bike as he replied, “Let’s go.”

  They started up their bikes again as Abel did the same and they took off, Abel leading.

  So he could catch the scent, they went back to the alley where the fight had happened, but he stopped well short of it, Xun and Wei stopping behind him.

  Cop cars with flashing lights were blocking the alley, yellow police tape cordoning it off. There was a flash, black SUV parked on the street close to the police vehicles as well as a black Porsche. There were also a meager number of onlookers, meager as it was late and this was a business district. And the fire Abel had lit to be certain the vampires were disposed of had been put out.

  They had no other choice but to drive by so he could catch the scent.

  Abel turned his head to his brothers, jerked up his chin, got two return gestures, then he gave his bike gas, gliding by the scene, Abel hoping that no one looked their way. The bloodstains on their dark clothes had dried and darkened, imperceptible in the night (unless you were vampire or wolf and could smell it), but he and his two brothers still had stains on their skin.

  He looked down the alley as he went by, seeing two dark-haired, well-dressed men who were not cops standing on the sidewalk outside the alley.

  One was speaking to a police officer.

  The other was on his phone.

  But his eyes followed Abel.

  Abel smelled them both and knew they were what he’d learned from their scent that night.

  Vampires.

  Since they were, they would no doubt smell him.

  And the blood he and his brothers had all over them.

  Fuck.

  He buried the urge to put on more gas until they were well away from the scene.

  But he’d picked up the scent and followed it, straight to the bay. They made it there without cop cars chasing them or gaining any company. He didn’t know what that meant, but he didn’t trust it and he didn’t let his guard down.

  He stopped his bike in the deserted parking lot by the rocky beach, swung off, and moved over the rocks toward the water, feeling Xun and Wei following him.

  He stopped at the edge where the gentle waves were lapping the shore, this also being where the scent died.

  “Gone swimming?” Wei asked.

  “Yep,” Abel answered.

  “So we lost him,” Xun stated, frustration in his tone.

  “Yep,” Abel repeated, also feeling frustration along with the disquiet gnawing at his throat.

  “You have any dreams, premonitions, or freaking anything about the shit that went down tonight?” Wei asked.

  This was a pertinent question.

  Abel dreamed. He did it every night and had done it for as long as he could remember.

  They were vivid dreams, most of them recurring. The last hundred years the majority of them were about Delilah, fucking her, eating her, her blowing him, him feeding as he finger fucked or banged her to orgasm, wild, unrestrained, like he sensed she was, like he sensed was how she lived her life.

  He’d also dreamed of her laughing, burying her face in his chest, her dark hair all around, her mirth vibrating through his skin, his flesh, straight into his heart. And he’d dreamed of her behind him on his bike, her tits pressed deep into his back, her hair flying around, whipping his face, her cheek resting on his shoulder blade. And of her sitting back, feet up on the table, ankles crossed, chopsticks in her hand, white carton held up before her, noodles dangling from her mouth as she grinned at him, his brothers, and Jian-Li.

  And last, he’d dream of watching her die on a street somewhere he did not know, drained by vampires and then torn apart by wolves.

  In his two hundred and five years, he’d never sensed or even smelled another being like him.

  But he’d dreamed of them. Dreamed of the danger they represented. Dreamed of them harming his family. Dreamed of them taking Delilah. Dreamed of them ripping her throat out, just like what had nearly happened that night.

  Now they were there.

  “Nope,” he answered.

  “Great,” Xun muttered.

  He turned to his brothers, who were once like his sons, who would become his fathers, the never-ending cycle of life that ended in sorrow. A cycle that went on without relief. Would go on without relief, but now would include Delilah.

  He would have her.

  He would love her.

  Then he would lose her.

  It takes time, but you come to terms with the fact that you were blessed, having once had it at all.

  He hoped like fuck Jian-Li was right.

  “I need to get back to Delilah,” he declared.

  Xun’s brows went up as did the corners of his lips. “Delilah?”

  “Don’t let her near a pair of scissors,” Wei advised, eyes to Abel’s overlong hair, lips also grinning.

  “Her namesake was not the one who used the shears,” Abel educated him.

  Wei looked to his brother, mumbling, “Whatever.”

  Abel took in two men he’d watched grow in their mother’s womb. He’d watched them learn to crawl, to walk, to speak. Men he’d started to train the minute they could coordinate their limbs. Men who showed him the blind devotion they showed their mother, tonight not the first time they’d demonstrated it, though it was the first time their lives were in peril when they did.

  And he knew his next play.

  He’d already known it. He’d known it for decades.

  He’d never liked it.

  But now that it was upon him, he fucking detested it.

  “There were vampires at the scene with the cops,” he told them.

  “Fantastic,” Xun said through a sigh.

  “Tell Chen and sleep with an eye open,” Abel ordered.

  He got nods before they turned back to their bikes, mounted them, and headed back to the city. But instead of going straight home, Abel led them to where he’d first picked up Delilah�
�s scent outside the Mad Helmet.

  He followed her fading scent, along with the now-dead creatures that had hunted her, and pulled over when he saw it on the sidewalk by some trash cans. Xun and Wei stopped with him and waited as he climbed off his bike, walked to the purse, and retrieved it.

  He swung the long strap of the black suede bag, with its minimal studs and maximum fringe, over his head, smiling for the first time that night.

  Delilah Johnson.

  Total biker bitch.

  Seeing as he bought his first Harley in 1922 and had never been without one since, he was getting the impression Delilah Johnson was made for him.

  He swung his leg over his bike, ignoring the grins he was getting from his brothers, and headed them toward home.

  They all parked in the alley, Wei moving directly to the back door of the restaurant where he’d find the stairs and go to the apartment above, where his mother lived.

  His brothers all lived elsewhere. Tonight, they’d see to their mother.

  And Abel.

  Xun followed Abel to the grate.

  Abel stopped and turned to him. “That bitch you’re bangin’ who works at The Chain?”

  Xun nodded.

  “Need you to connect with her. See if she can get into Delilah’s room, pack up her shit, and get it out, all without anyone who might be watching noticing. The maid’s cart or something. She needs incentive to do it right, there’s five hundred dollars in it for her.”

  Xun smiled. “Probably she’d take a different incentive.”

  Abel shook his head before replying, “Then give her that. I really don’t give a fuck what you give her. Just get Delilah’s shit. Last name’s Johnson. The sooner she gets it, the happier I’ll be.”

  “I’m on it.”

  Abel lifted his hand and Xun clasped it, then they thumped forearms and disconnected.

  Abel moved to the stairs and descended them. When his head cleared the top, Xun dropped the grate and rolled the Dumpster over it.

  Chen gave him shit for the precautions he took, city after city, everywhere they moved, doing it frequently so no one would notice the family getting older but Abel not.

  But Chen didn’t have his dreams.

  And probably, after that night, Chen’s shit about what he called Abel’s “dungeons” would end.

  He walked to the door, pulled it open, and moved into his room.

  The light by the chair was shining, the rest of the space dark.

  The first thing he did was move with human speed to the pile of her clothes on the floor by the bed. He moved slowly because he wanted to be quiet and not cause a breeze or give Delilah anything to sense that might wake her.

  He didn’t look at her as he gathered them up, went back to the door, opened it, and tossed them out. He stood in its frame, taking off his own bloodstained clothes and boots and tossing them out with Delilah’s.

  He closed the door, closing away the scent that gave him the near-irresistible urge to become wolf or bare his fangs and sink them into something with no intent to feed.

  That done, he went to the table and dumped her purse there. Then he moved to the sink and quietly cleaned the rest of the blood from his skin, going back to the door to toss the bloodstained washcloth with the clothes.

  Back inside, behind closed doors, he put on another tee and jeans and moved again to the bed.

  He stood beside it, looking down at Delilah Johnson.

  She was asleep on her side, hair still wet and spread across the pillow. One hand under her cheek, cheek in her palm. The other hand was curled into the covers, in her sleep, holding them tight to her chest as if protecting herself.

  Her milky-green eyes, with their fans of dark lashes, were closed, but even in the dark, with his preternatural vision, he could see the rose in her cheeks against the flawless pale of her skin.

  She was wearing his tee. Wearing his tee against that pale skin, using it to cover her abundant tits, the swells of her generous hips, that round ass.

  His cock started to harden.

  A century of her in his dreams, he would have assumed, finally having her, it would be difficult to move slowly with her.

  He would never have guessed that every moment in her presence where he couldn’t take her mouth, thrust his cock in her cunt, would be torture.

  One side of him—wolf, vampire, or possibly both—was urging him to connect with her, claim her, fuck her savagely and pour his seed inside her, then pull out and coat her with it. He could smell her laying there, sleeping. He could taste the wild tang of her he knew from his dreams. And he knew down to his balls that his cum and her juices mingled would be the most beautiful essence he’d ever smelled in his life—or ever would.

  He needed it. His body demanded it. The animal in him strained to it just as the monster in him craved her blood on his tongue.

  He moved to the armchair, folded into it, and reached out to turn off the light.

  He straightened his legs in front of him, crossing them at the ankles. He rested his hands loosely on his upper thighs. He dropped his head to rest against the back of the chair.

  And he forced his eyes to close.

  Chapter Three

  Cocky

  Delilah

  I was on my back in the leaves, the stars overhead, Abel’s hands curved around my ribs, yanking me down, his face between my legs.

  He was sucking, deep and hungry, at my clit.

  Glorious.

  He stopped and buried his tongue inside.

  My lips parted and my back arched. His fingers tightened and he drove me down harder on his mouth.

  Yes.

  His mouth opened on my clit again, tongue lapping, then came the suction.

  I dug my heels in his back, feeling it coming, knowing it was going to be sublime.

  He stopped, surged over me, his tongue bathing my neck, his cock ramming inside.

  I felt his teeth tear through, my blood surging into his mouth, and my climax was on me.

  “Abel, baby,” I moaned.

  * * * * *

  “What?”

  My eyes opened and I immediately blinked at the unknown pillowcase my head was resting on.

  “What?”

  The question came again. I looked beyond the pillowcase and saw him sitting back in the armchair, the light next to him on, his legs straight, ankles crossed, head up, eyes open and on me.

  And it hit my foggy mind for the first time that he was beautiful, every lean, scarred, amazing inch of him.

  “What?” I parroted sleepily.

  He lifted up and forward, bending his knees and putting his elbows to them, his gaze never leaving me.

  “You called my name,” he told me.

  “I did?” I asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “I was asleep.”

  He studied me with a look in my still-hazy-with-sleep mind that seemed a mingling of intent, amused and pained.

  But all he said was “Yeah.”

  I pushed up to a forearm, lifting my hand to pull the hair away from my face, watching him watch my hand do this and also seeing the pain intensify on his features.

  Weird.

  I dropped my hand and his eyes followed it before they moved back to my face.

  When they did, I asked, “I was talking in my sleep?”

  “You said, ‘Abel, baby.’”

  Oh shit.

  His head tipped to the side. “Good dream?”

  “I…I don’t remember.” And I didn’t, for which I was glad, but also kinda not.

  “Too bad,” he muttered, pushing to his feet and moving toward the bathroom area.

  I shifted up to a hand in the bed, pulling the covers to my chest as I did so even though I was in his shirt, which was way big on me and provided excellent coverage.

  In this position, I watched him go to the medicine cabinet, open it, and take something out, then turn and walk back to me, all the while talking.

  “Didn’t get the wolf. Lost his
scent at the bay. You talk to your dad this morning, got nothin’ else to give him.”

  “That’s not good news,” I replied.

  “No.” He stopped by the bed and tossed something on it. My eyes went to it as he finished, “It’s not.”

  But I was staring at the new toothbrush in its wrapping sitting on the bed, my mind blank of everything. Absolutely everything. Everything but that fucking toothbrush.

  “Givin’ you ten minutes,” he stated.

  My head snapped up, the talons suddenly gripping my throat from the inside strangling me as I watched him start to turn.

  Thus I had to force out my “A new toothbrush?”

  He stopped turning and looked back down at me.

  “Yeah, unless you wanna use mine, which I prefer you didn’t.”

  I snatched it up in a grip so tight, the plastic buckled in my palm.

  “A new toothbrush?” I demanded, my voice vibrating with extreme pissed-offedness.

  His expression cleared, but his attention increased as he slowly and cautiously said, “Uh…yeah.”

  It was then his words from the night before blasted through my head.

  Helped I was fuckin’ her at the time, but yeah, she did. Bitch begs me to bite her. Seein’ as I need the blood, it works for me.

  “You get a lot of company?” I asked in a way his only choice of answer was a firm, unwavering “Fuck no.”

  Unfortunately, he didn’t answer that way.

  I watched his body brace as I heard his lips say “Shit.”

  I threw the covers back and jumped out of bed, leaning toward him, shouting, “Wrong answer!”

  “Delilah—”

  I interrupted whatever he was going to say by raising my arm and throwing the toothbrush at him. It bounced off his chest and landed on the floor as I started yelling.

  “You fed from someone you fucked and you did that yesterday! The day you met me!” He lifted his hands like he was going to touch me, so I threw one of mine out, batting his away, shouting, “Don’t touch me!”

  “I didn’t know you yesterday,” he pointed out.

  “So?” I snapped.

  “Take a breath, Delilah,” he ordered.

  “Fuck that,” I retorted, then demanded, “Why do you have an extra toothbrush?”

  “You don’t want the answer to that,” he answered.