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He looked up at her, silently asking for permission.

With a beautiful blush, she nodded, leaned back, and spread her legs even further.

He buried his face in her core.

She gasped when he licked at her moist slit, flattening his tongue to get at all the best parts. She groaned when he sucked on her clit, humming against the hardened pearl to increase her pleasure. She screamed when he penetrated her with one finger, hooking it until he found that spongy patch of nerves she probably didn’t even know existed.

And she came when he added another finger to the mix.

He didn’t let up, though. Instead, he continued to play with her, prolonging her release until she was pulling at his hair and begging him to stop. He growled, not wanting to obey, but he finally raised his head. That’s when he felt his fangs unsheathe.

Her eyes widened with fear.

“No,” he said. “Don’t be afraid. This is me, just wanting you.”

For a moment, she remained silent, then said, “You want my blood?”

“I want all of you,” he answered the only way he could. Honestly.

To his shock, she opened her arms wide and said, “Then take it. Take me now.” She arched her back and offered her throat to him. Part of him wondered if this was some kind of trick.

So be it.

In a second, he was on her, his fangs piercing the delicate
skin at her throat, taking everything that she’d offered him. Her body tensed, not with pain or fear but because she was about to find release again, and this time, before she could, he plunged his aching cock inside her. He thrust. He hammered. He let the animal take control of him as he took her blood. It felt so good to be with her. In her. It felt unreal.

Somewhere, an engine backfired and someone shouted. The sounds pulled him out of his daydream with stunning brutality.

His eyes popped open.

That’s when he realized none of it had been real.

He was standing in his flat, with the image of Ana on the surveillance monitor in front of him. She was still touching herself, still writhing as she struggled to find the release he so badly wanted to give her. In that moment, it didn’t matter what was real and what wasn’t. She was caught in the manacles of pleasure, the same pleasure that had taken hold of him. He squeezed his cock tighter and felt the tingling at the base of his spine as his orgasm came barreling down on him. His balls tightened. The tension within him gathered and grew until every minuscule space within him was filled by his desire for her.

Oh, Jesus, he thought. It’s never been this good. I’m going to die from the pleasure.

In her bedroom, Ana moaned again, longer and louder than ever.

Only she didn’t just moan.

She moaned
his name
.

And when she did, he shouted, coming in violent spasms while she did the same.

CHAPTER
NINE

Ana’s orgasm jolted her out of her dream so suddenly she
could still hear the faint echo of her cries around her. Chest heaving with her effort to catch her breath, she desperately tried to ground herself in reality. Instead, all her mind could do was play back images in shocking detail.

Had she really just dreamed about sex with Ty? More important, had she dreamed about him having fangs and drinking her blood and making her come so hard as a result that she’d just about blacked out? She wasn’t into weird, kinky fantasies like that. She didn’t even like sex. And she’d never liked reading books or watching movies or, hell, even talking about vampires. Lord knew Bobbie Hernandez was fascinated enough with the subject, always bringing it up when he visited the coffee shop.

Maybe it was just her mind’s way of warning her that Ty was dangerous. That he was going to use her. Take from her. But deep inside she didn’t believe that. No, she’d been thinking of Ty last night. Thinking of joining Belladonna and him falling in love with her. More likely the dream was just her mind’s way of telling her to stay real. To trust him, but not too much. Not
that
much.

Ten minutes later, still reeling from the entire experience—the inescapable knowledge that her body
could actually find pleasure through a sexual connection, let alone one that involved the exchange of blood—she could still do nothing but lie there and stare at the ceiling. Eventually, she realized the sheet beneath her was drenched with sweat and clinging to her skin.

Wincing, she forced herself to her feet, stripped the bed, and tossed the linens into the washing machine. Then she took a shower, occasionally bracing a palm against the tiled wall because her knees trembled. As she washed, she was alternately hesitant to touch herself and tempted to linger at those special places that still tingled with the memory of Ty’s attention.

Why? What in the world had made her dream about Ty? Not the real Ty she’d sparred with, but one far more relaxed. Sensual. Sexual. More important, why had dreaming about him gotten her off so fast and so hard? Why did she want to close her eyes and fall asleep so she could dream of him once more? So she could come again. Why did the thought of never feeling his cock or his imaginary fangs inside her leave her with a feeling of utter despair?

Finally, she was pissed off enough by her continuing desire for him that she wrenched the temperature of the shower to cold. The blast of freezing water on her skin made her jump and screech, but she gritted her teeth and forced herself to stay where she was. Only after she was sufficiently cooled down and the last vestiges of her arousal vanished did she turn off the water, towel dry, and get dressed.

Her physical languor had worn off. So had her mental cloudiness.

She wouldn’t be able to go into work and pretend nothing had happened. The memory of Ty’s visit and the memory of her dream wouldn’t leave her alone. As much as she wanted to hide from both, she couldn’t.

She booted up her computer and proceeded to run
several searches for Gloria. She used every search term she could think of, but like always, she came up empty. For some reason, her failure to find any trace of Gloria this time didn’t leave her sad as much as angry.

It was just weird to think about how Gloria had totally abandoned her. Ana had been willing to let the gang beat her up, for God’s sake, just to give Gloria a fresh start in life.

Despite her determination to see her sister again and convince her how wrong she’d been to abandon her, Ana always circled back to the cold, hard truth. Her sister must not give a damn. So why did she continue to bother?

With a frustrated cry, she grabbed her wireless keyboard and threw it against the wall. Several keys popped off and the keyboard bounced before landing on the floor. Covering her face with her hands, Ana dropped to her knees and struggled not to cry.

No tears, she told herself. No tears.

They won’t change anything.

They won’t bring Gloria back.

Besides, now that Ty knew about her, her life here was over. Ana Martin was no more. Whether she ended up signing on to work with Belladonna or not, she could never return to Seattle, taking the chance they wouldn’t leave her alone but would continue to ask more and more from her. Sooner or later, they’d stop asking and figure out a way to make her do what they wanted.

After several minutes of deep breathing, Ana finally calmed. Slowly, she got to her feet, picked up the keyboard, and retrieved the scattered keys. Then she headed straight for the garage and the flattened moving boxes she kept there. One by one, she rebuilt them, then started to pack.

By 8 a.m., she was done.

She owned very little that was important to her. Some
photographs. Clothes she simply didn’t want to have to buy again. And some dolls she and Gloria had played with as children …

Dolls she’d put in storage during her stint in prison.

With a small smile, she picked up the baby doll with yellow yarn braids and a faded gingham dress. It had once been Gloria’s prized possession, mostly because it had been a gift from their mother, who’d for once remembered one of her daughters’ birthdays and had made some effort to celebrate the occasion. By evening, they’d been alone again, but they’d had the doll and the leftover cake and each other. They’d spent the entire night taking care of their “new baby.”

Ana still remembered how eight-year-old Gloria had crooned to the doll, promising that her life would be wonderful. Vowing that she would never let anything happen to her. Promising to protect her the way eleven-year-old Ana protected Gloria.

Months later, when Gloria’s grandparents had arrived to give her a better life, Gloria had given the doll to Ana, blinking back tears, saying, “So you won’t be lonely. So you can protect each other while I’m away.”

And years later? After fifteen-year-old Gloria had returned from her grandparents, quiet and broken?

She hadn’t wanted the doll anymore. In fact, she’d threatened to burn it, only Ana hadn’t let that happen. She’d kept the doll hidden, because it reminded her of a rare moment when their mother had been something like sober. And she’d held on to it since then because she had needed a reminder of her sister, whatever it was worth.

Ty Duncan had promised to give her information about Gloria … 
if
she came to work for Belladonna. Despite her despair and loss of control earlier, there’d never been any question of what she was going to do—if
there was any chance of her finding Gloria, she’d do what it took to make sure that happened.

Ana placed the doll into a box and taped the lid shut.

She’d have to go into work and start packing there, too. Put her business up for sale and have the funds transferred into a secure account. Maybe—

A knock on her door made her jump. She immediately thought of Ty. Annoyance or anger should have been her first response. Instead, she felt a jolt of excited anticipation.

Warily, she approached the front door. “Who is it?”

“Seattle PD, ma’am.”

“What do you want?”

“If you open the door, we can talk about it.”

“What’s your name? Your badge number?”

“Officer Southcott.” He recited his badge number and rattled off the number of his station.

With a quick phone call to Seattle PD, she confirmed his visit to her house as official. Only then did she open the door and allow him to cross the threshold. But she didn’t ask him to sit down. He could say what he’d come to say standing up.

“Ms. Martin.” He gave her a curt nod. “I’m here to ask whether you know Téa Montgomery.”

Téa? Why was he—? A feeling of dread hit her and she automatically thought … Ty Duncan. He’d said he’d spoken to Téa about her. Had he hurt her?

He couldn’t have. She was far more suspicious of this cop than Ty. “Téa’s my parole officer, but I’m sure you already know that. What’s this about?”

“Ms. Montgomery is dead,” he said baldly, holding nothing back. “She passed away almost a week ago.”

Shock punched Ana in the stomach and was followed swiftly by grief. Even so, she deliberately kept her face blank and her breathing steady.

But, God, how it hurt.

Téa hadn’t just been her parole officer, she’d been a friend, at least as much of a friend as Ana had allowed herself. Téa had cared about her. Encouraged her. Told her she was more than her past. Now she was dead.

Something was wrong, really wrong. It was possible that Ty Duncan had killed her. Ana had no real reason to trust him at all.

Seated in front of the surveillance monitors, Ty cursed when he saw Officer Southcott—the same bastard who’d driven a bullet between his eyes—stroll up Ana’s front walkway to knock on her door. Last night, he’d assumed the cop had been sent to the warehouse to go after him by someone wanting to protect Ana. How wrong he’d been. Now Southcott was going to kill Ana before Ty could do anything to stop him.

Shooting to his feet, he was about to run over there when he realized it was broad daylight. Sure he could withstand the sun for a short time, but he’d be seen. Identified. Maybe even questioned. Southcott had parked his patrol car in front of her house, which didn’t exactly scream nefarious intent, so he paused. Waited. Heard Southcott give Ana the phone number of his station house. On another screen, he watched Ana pick up the phone and confirm the officer was actually supposed to be there. Further proof that Southcott wasn’t going to harm her.

Still tense but no longer panicked, Ty sat back down.

So why was Southcott there?

He watched and listened, then cursed.

He’d already known Téa Montgomery was dead before Ana had confronted him in that alley. He’d also known it was only a matter of time before Ana learned the truth. But now? After everything he’d put her
through? After the way she’d thrown that keyboard, then slowly and methodically packed up her things?

The expression on Ana’s face when she heard the news made Ty wince. She hid her grief so damn well. Too well.

Ty had guessed why she’d packed her stuff. And why she’d thrown that keyboard. Even worse, he knew things were only going to get harder for her.

“How—how did she die?” Ana asked the cop.

Southcott was watching her carefully, as if he thought she was going to break down and weep. He seemed somewhat surprised when she didn’t.

“A car accident.”

What a mundane way for such a vibrant woman to lose her life. Téa’s family—her parents, the sister she often talked about—had to be shattered.
Madre de Dios
 …

“That’s terrible,” Ana said, because he clearly expected her to say something.

He held out a piece of paper. “This is a transcription of a text on Téa’s phone. Just a draft, never sent. I don’t know if the accident is the reason she never finished it, but …” The police officer shrugged.

Ana took the paper and read Téa’s incomplete text:
Ana. Stay away from Belladonna. Too dangerous. Gloria—

It stopped there.

Téa had truly been her friend to the end. She’d tried to warn Ana to stay away from Belladonna because she’d wanted to protect her. Yet the text confirmed what Ty had already told her—that Belladonna and Gloria were somehow linked.