Nina shrugged. “Why does Bliss do anything?”

I’d like to find out.

“Wait.” I needed to talk to Nina, too. My brain felt like cotton.

“Why are you cringing?” Nina asked, as I prepared to draw my powers out once again.

My head felt like it was going to split in half. I rubbed at my temples as I used all of my strength to draw a line between us.

“Mmm,” she said, bringing the fruity wine to her lips. “That tickles.”

At least her mind was open. It felt like walking through a soap bubble.

Even so, I knew I wouldn’t last long. I hadn’t even found a private place to question her. “Francine said Sunny was blackmailing you.”

“I’ll say. She was taking me for five thousand dollars a month.”

No way would I get deep enough to ask if she was the killer. I was surprised I’d gotten into her mind in the first place.

“Why was Sunny blackmailing you?”

Nina took a sip of wine, holding her glass to the side with two fingers. “She caught me giving my personal chef a bonus.”

“That doesn’t seem so bad.”

“On the dining room table.”

My brain was fuzzy, yet another side effect. “Well, he is a chef.”

“We weren’t eating, babe.”

Oy. I didn’t need that mental picture.

She noticed my discomfort and answered it with a sultry smile. “Oh, don’t be a prude. My husband doesn’t eat. I don’t eat. Our personal chef has to do something.”

“Just shoot me now.” These people were all nuts.

She tilted her head and studied me. “No. If I was going to kill you, I’d maul you.” She grinned. “Or just smack you with a chandelier, right?”

“What?” I demanded. But it was no use. The connection fizzled out. I had nothing left. Nina didn’t even notice.

She bent closer. “You don’t look so good.” She shook her wine goblet, the half-melted ice at the bottom sloshing from side to side. “You’d better lay off the hooch.”

I stumbled backward. I’d never questioned two people in one night and now I knew why. There wouldn’t be a third, that much was certain.

“I gotta go,” I said to no one in particular as I made my way back toward the house. The cool slap of air-conditioning hit me as I slid the glass door open. It felt good in a way, like laying my head on the cool porcelain of a toilet seat after I got sick questioning that Harley-riding witch back in Las Vegas.

She’d been a stubborn cuss.

But at least the biker witch wasn’t evil. I had a feeling there was more to Sunny’s murder than one desperate werewife gone off the deep end.

Francine and her dodgy answers.

Nina and her talk about chandeliers.

A large hand closed around my shoulder and I shouted.

“Heather,” he hissed in my ear.

“Lucien.” I about fell over with relief.

He wore no shirt, which was a total waste because at that moment I knew I wasn’t fully appreciating his fine vampire self. I also liked the concern I saw in his eyes. Sue me. It felt kind of good that someone cared whether or not I passed out next to the fake tiki hut.

“It’s done,” I murmured as he wrapped his arms around me. “I’m wiped.”

Wait. I thought about resisting as he pulled me close against his chest, but then again—I wasn’t crazy.

I supposed I should have been trying to keep my distance from him, but at that moment, I didn’t give a rip.

My cheek rested against Lucien’s chest and something warm pooled inside me.

“Okay, let’s get you out of here,” he said as he drew away and helped me down the hall.

He didn’t ask me any questions. He didn’t push me. He just walked with me. And as soon as we’d cleared the threshold of Francine’s house, he picked me up and carried me home.

“I can stand,” I insisted as Lucien kicked our front door closed.

“Leave it to me,” he said, as we headed for the stairs.

You’re not listening, I protested, or maybe I just thought it as he carried me up the steps like a child, all the way to his room.

His bed was an ornate cherry wood antique with bloodred sheets. “I’m not sleeping in your bed,” I groaned.

“Of course not,” he said, easing me into the soft mattress and stretching out next to me. “Advil?”

My head hurt too much to argue. “Better make it a double.”

He fetched me four pills and a chaser of water. I swallowed them down and wished he could just knock me out. “I feel like I got hit by a garbage truck.”

The bed dipped as he sat down next to me. “Is it always this bad?”

“No.” I’d pushed myself hard tonight. “Go away.” That’s what my pack did at this point. They cleared out and left me to my pain.

He stood. The lights dimmed and I thought that would be the end of him, but Lucien came back. “Where does it hurt?” he asked, the bed creaking under his weight.

“My head.”

His cool hands slid across my cheeks as if he were preparing to play a delicate instrument. His fingertips found my aching temples and lingered, rubbing hypnotic circles until I felt the tension loosen.

He kept on. Every thought I had focused on the way his hands soothed me. I shouldn’t have let him touch me like that. No one else did. Why should he be any different? He was vampire. Not pack.

He was dead. He was a Predator.

I swallowed and let him touch. To hell with it. I needed this.

His hands moved through my hair, over my aching head, sending tiny chills down my body.

“Not my neck,” I murmured.

“No worries.” I heard him grin as the palm of his hand slid down the back of my head to rest at the aching spot at the top of my spine.

He wasn’t going to bite me. I knew that somehow. And as soon as I decided, I tried to shove it out of my mind. I didn’t want to think of him any other way. I needed him to be a Predator. I was good at having enemies. The rest was too hard to figure out, especially right now.

His hands found my shoulders.

I rolled onto my stomach and let him dig his strong fingers into my aching muscles. Good lord, I hadn’t been petted in a long time. Ever, really. Damn, it felt good.

His hands found the edges of my silk top and I let him strip it off. The air felt wonderfully cool against my skin, his fingers soothing.

I floated above the pain, focusing only on Lucien’s touch. He worked the muscles along my spine, easing away the tension.

He found the back of my bra. “Take it off,” I ordered. My voice betrayed none of the shakiness I felt.

It was no big deal to be naked around pack. But it was different with Lucien. I knew that now.

Still, I needed his skin against mine. It was a werewolf thing. It had nothing to do with the way he was touching me.

The pain had eased somewhat, replaced by ... what—comfort? No, it was more than that.

I had the sudden, maddening urge to touch him back.

Gah. I shoved both hands under my pillow. “Take it off,” I said, voice muffled by the pillow. I wanted to feel his hands and nothing else.

“Heather,” he said, his voice husky.

“Please,” I said, before I could change my mind.

I closed my eyes as his hands slid up either side of my chest, skimming the outer edges of my breasts. Awareness pricked me as his fingertips lingered above my nipples. It was everything I could do not to press forward against his hands.

He wanted to touch me. I knew he did.

I wanted it, too. But it would change everything.

Lucien was too much of a gentleman to press me. Damn it. I let him slip my bra off.

I didn’t even care about my lucky boot knife.

Right now that didn’t matter. Nothing did.

I was facedown, half-naked under a vampire and I didn’t care.

Scratch that.

I wanted him.

It would be so easy to roll over and let him run his hands over my breasts, my stomach, and every other part of me that ached for him.

“Lucien.” I felt the weight of him on the backs of my thighs as I turned over on the bed.

I couldn’t help smiling at his hunger.

“Watch it, werewolf.” He stroked a finger down my cheek, over the pulse of my neck and down to my breast. My breath caught as he found my nipple.

Our eyes met.

His faltered.

“Not like this,” he whispered, pulling the covers over my body.

The crisp white sheets felt smothering. “What do you mean?” I started to sit up until the pounding in my head returned, or maybe it had never stopped and I just hadn’t noticed.

“You’re hurt,” he said, as if that would keep me from wanting to see him naked.

“I’m going to be more hurt in a minute.” My body was screaming with frustration.

He made it worse by pressing a kiss to my forehead, and then to the soft spot in front of my ear.

I sighed. “You like to torture me, don’t you?”

“More than you’ll ever know.” He settled in next to me. “Sleep.” He pressed against my back until he was spooning me in the most delicious way. It was warm, protective. It felt like the pack I’d never had.