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Going below, Erik followed the vampire's scent into a stateroom where he found the two O'Donnell men lying on the floor, bound and apparently under some kind of supernatural enchantment. He was moving toward them when he realized he was no longer alone.

Erik whirled around, fangs extended, and came face-to-face with one of his kind. Clad in a pair of black trousers and a loose-fitting white shirt, the vampire was tall and lean and looked to be in his late twenties, though his aura was much older.

"What are you doing here?" the vampire asked. His voice was mild, though his eyes blazed red.

"I know these two," Erik said, gesturing at Daisy's father and brother. "They're not to be harmed."

The other vampire lifted one brow. "Indeed?"

Erik nodded.

"They violated my lair. They tried to destroy me. I am within my rights to do with them as it pleases me. And it pleases me to kill them."

"I'm afraid I can't allow you to do that."

"No? Who are you?"

"Erik Delacourt."

"Ah."

"You know me?" Erik asked.

"I have heard of you. It is said you are a close friend of Costain's."

Erik nodded, wondering if that was good or bad. "Who the hell are you?"

"Tomas Villagrande."

Erik swore under his breath. Villagrande was the Master of the East Coast vampires, and was even older than Rhys. It was rumored among the ranks of the Undead that Villagrande was one of the first of their kind, that it was Villagrande who had bequeathed the Dark Gift to Dracula himself. Erik didn't know if that was true, but Villagrande's preternatural power was unmistakable.

Villagrande folded his arms over his chest. "Why do you care if these two live or die?"

"They're related to someone I hold dear."

"That does change things, does it not?" Villagrande mused aloud. "And yet the fact remains that they are mine."

Tension thrummed through Erik as he summoned his power. If the other vampire wanted a fight, so be it, although pitting his strength against that of a much older vampire seemed like suicide.

"This someone you hold dear, is it a woman?"

"Yes."

"Ah. And is she young and beautiful beyond compare?"

Erik nodded even as he wondered what game Villagrande was playing.

"You are in love with her?"

"Yes."

"An overrated emotion to be sure," Villagrande remarked, his voice melancholy. "Yet I confess that I, too, have been caught in that snare from time to time. Tell me, are you willing to challenge me in combat to save these two?"

Erik swore inwardly. He had hoped it wouldn't come to that, but he couldn't go back to Daisy and tell her he had failed. Better not to return at all. "If I have to."

Villagrande stroked his chin as he contemplated Erik's decision. "She means that much to you, this woman?"

"And more."

Villagrande laughed softly. "I do not wish to kill you. You have trouble enough. Take them and go."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that." Villagrande smiled, showing a hint of fang. "Never let it be said that Tomas Villagrande stood in the way of true love. As for your inept friends here, I am surprised they have survived as long as they have. They should wake in half an hour or so. You might tell them to be more careful in the future," he said, and with a wave of his hand, he vanished.

Erik stood there a moment, his senses searching for some trace of Villagrande. It was then that he realized he might have made a fatal mistake in giving Villagrande his name. A word from the East Coast Master of the City and Rhys would know where to find Erik, which would lead him to Alex. And Daisy.

Cursing his stupidity, Erik untied Daisy's father and Alex. Hefting a man over each shoulder, he transported himself to the shore. A thought carried him to Daisy's front porch.

She answered before he knocked, making him think she had been looking out the window, waiting for his return.

Her eyes widened when she saw her dad and brother. "Are they...?"

"No, just unconscious."

"Thank the Lord!" She had been terrified that Erik had found them too late. And then she frowned. "What's wrong with them?"

"Nothing. They'll come around in a few minutes."

"How do you know?"

"The vampire they found told me so."

"Oh?" There was a wealth of curiosity in that single word.

Erik lowered Noah O'Donnell onto one end of the sofa and Alex onto the other. "I don't know how we're going to explain this," he muttered.

"Alex has a GPS on his phone. I'll say I called the police and they tracked it, and then I called you.... No, that won't work. The police would have taken them to the hospital and doctors would have kept them there until they regained consciousness. What are we going to do? How are we going to explain how they got home?"

"Beats the hell out of me."

Daisy frowned thoughtfully as she glanced at her dad and Alex. "Why didn't the vampire kill them?"

"He was going to." Erik had no doubt that, had he arrived a few minutes later, he would have found Villagrande dining on his captives.

"But he didn't. Why?"

Erik shrugged. "I told him they were important to someone who's important to me." He grinned inwardly. Never in a thousand years would he have figured Tomas Villagrande for a romantic.

"And that made a difference?"

With a nod, Erik took her by the hand and led her out of the living room, through the kitchen door, and out into the backyard.

"What are we doing out here?" Daisy asked.

"Nothing. I just wanted to be alone with you."

"Oh." Anticipation spread through her as he drew her into his embrace. "Thank you for saving Alex and my dad."

"You're welcome." Erik's gaze moved over her face. He traced the outline of her lips with his finger, then lowered his head and kissed her.

Heat unfurled in the pit of Daisy's stomach and spread outward as he deepened the kiss, his tongue stroking hers, his hands moving lightly up and down her spine, drawing her closer, closer, so that their bodies were pressed intimately together, leaving no doubt in her mind that he wanted her.

His lips moved to her brow, the curve of her cheek, her chin, the pulse throbbing in the hollow of her throat. The beat of her heart was faster now, warming her blood. She smelled of musk and desire and woman, of flesh and blood, and he wanted her, needed her.

She stirred in his embrace, inflaming him still more. So easy to take her here, now. So easy...

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