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CHAPTER 1
The late-April night was unseasonably warm, so I’d left the window open a couple inches. Just enough for a breath of fresh air to pass through. From the bed, I gazed up at the moon, which glittered a quarter past full. A low bank of clouds—illuminated silhouettes against the sky—rolled through, streaking the moon with their long fingers of ink. I slid out from between the sheets and silently crossed to the window, padding softly over the braided rug that Iris had recently found in a little vintage store.
Lifting the window just enough so I could lean my head out, I peered into the shadows of the backyard. My sister Camille was out for the night. She was staying with her husbands, Morio and Smoky—a fox demon and a dragon, respectively—in the woods near Smoky’s barrow. They were casting yet another spell to bring home one of our own. Trillian, Camille’s alpha lover, was still missing. We knew he was alive, but that’s all we knew. He’d disappeared, and from all accounts, a goblin contingent nabbed him back in Otherworld, which spelled potential disaster . . . for both Trillian and for us.
Menolly, my other sister, should be just getting home from work. She ran the Wayfarer Bar & Grill. The driveway wasn’t visible from my window, so I couldn’t see whether her Jag was parked there.
I turned back to the bed. Chase had decided to stay the night, and he was sprawled out across the mattress, sound asleep, cover thrown to the side. The man was hot-blooded, which made him very amenable during the nights when I yanked all the blankets away and curled up in them, leaving him naked. Speaking of naked, I thought. Chase was obviously enjoying whatever dream he was having. Either that or he was dreaming he was a sundial. I licked my lips. Time to wake him up in a very special way. If I was careful . . .
I slowly climbed back on the bed and leaned down to cautiously trace my tongue along the length of his erection.
“Erika?” he muttered.
I frowned and paused, tongue still poised against his skin. Who the hell was Erika?
“Delilah, come quick!”
The door slammed open. I lurched, Chase jumped, and my fangs scratched an inch-long razor-thin gash, leaving a delicate red line as a few drops of blood oozed out. Oh shit!
“What the fuck are you doing?” Chase yelled, his voice unnaturally high as he scrambled away. The expression on his face was not the one I’d been going for, that was for sure.
“Chase! I’m sorry—”
“Oh, Christ!” His foot got caught in the quilt, and he went tumbling over the side of the bed. He hit the floor with a thud, swearing a blue streak.
I rushed to his side as Menolly snorted from where she stood by the door, wreathed in light from the hallway. Blood burbled out of her nose and dripped down to her lips.
“Can you maybe remember to knock next time?” I stared at her, shaking my head. “I take it you just had dinner?”
She coughed, and I caught the glint in her eye. It went against every instinct I had, but I managed to repress my own laughter. I felt bad for Chase—especially since I’d been the one to inflict pain on him—but I felt like Lucy Ricardo caught in the middle of one of her harebrained schemes.
I didn’t dare let him see me smile, though. My detective had been going through a rough spot the past few days, and his sense of humor had taken a hike. His job—or rather, jobs—were driving him nuts.
Not to mention that Zachary Lyonnesse—a werepuma with whom I’d slept one time and who was constantly trying to woo me away—had been hanging around the house more. His visits had increased since he got wind that, for the past month or so, Chase had been too busy to drop over most nights. Zachary hadn’t put any pressure on me, but I could sense the tension that still ran between us. We tried to pretend it wasn’t there—or at least I did—but it was hard to ignore the chemistry, even though Chase was the one who held my heart.
Chase had been irritated, that much I knew, but he’d been smart enough to steer clear of pushing an ultimatum on me. And that was a good thing, because I genuinely liked Zach, and we had to work together as we formed the foundation for the growing Supe Community.
I reminded Chase time and again that I loved him and wouldn’t stray without talking to him first. But the fact that we’d only managed to have sex four times in the past six weeks didn’t help. We were both pent-up, frustrated, and feeling out of sync.
Menolly delicately stepped over the pile of clothes that had grown in the middle of the room. I wasn’t much on laundry baskets, even though Iris kept bitching at me. I know, I know, being a werecat, I should be fastidious and tidy, but it just wasn’t going to happen. I always meant to do better, but the truth was that I was a slob, and no matter how hard I tried, I’d always be one.
As she plucked a tissue from the box on my dresser and patted her nose, Menolly’s gaze flickered back to us. Her pale blue eyes—almost gray, really—grew luminous in the dim light as she stared unabashedly at Chase. The tip of her tongue reach out to trace her lips.
I was about to give her a good what for when I realized it wasn’t his nether regions she was focused on. Nope. She could smell his blood. Menolly was a vampire, and while she did a good job of keeping herself in check, when she was startled, her steel-clad grip on her emotions could slip a little.
Chase noticed her intensified scrutiny at the same time I did. “Stop right where you are!” He hurried to pull the sheet over his groin. “If you think you’re sticking your fangs in my . . . anywhere in me, you’ve got another think coming!”
She reined herself in. “Sorry, didn’t mean to stare. Just . . .”
“Menolly . . . remember where you are,” I said, slowly standing.
She glanced at me, then back at Chase, and shook her head. “Really, I didn’t intend to be rude. You okay, Chase?” Without waiting for an answer, she whirled back to me, and a goofy grin spread across her face. “You need to come downstairs, or you’ll miss everything!”
“Miss what?” I scrambled for my sleep shirt and dragged it over my head. “What’s going on? Do I need to get dressed? Are there demons in the yard? A goblin brigade marching through our kitchen? Another unicorn visit?” Knowing our luck, it could be multiple choice: Take your pick, any and all. Or something worse.
“No, no brawls tonight.” She clapped her hands. “I just got home. Iris is up. Maggie said her first words, and she’s awake and babbling up a storm. Most of it’s nonsense still, but she really can say a few things! Iris is recording it on the camcorder. So hurry up and get your ass downstairs.”
As she shut the door, Chase pushed himself to his feet. He fumbled for a moment, then sat on the edge of the bed, staring at his penis. The blood had stopped, but the thin red wheal left a reminder of where my left fang had lacerated him.
