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  Some said that if Yolen ever finally tapped into his mastyr calling he’d be equal to Ethan who ruled all of Bergisson Realm because of the level of his power. She knew that when a vampire accepted his mastyr calling and embraced the new mantle, the Sidhe Council measured his ability in order to determine if he should become the new ruler of his realm.

  Nine Realms law was simple: the most powerful vampire ruled.

  Brianna didn’t need Yolen to embrace his power, not if he didn’t want to, but she did need more from him. Although she supposed it was possible that the two concepts were somehow connected, though she truly hadn’t considered the idea before. Did Yolen’s unwillingness to become a mastyr vampire have something to do with how much he held back in his relationship with her?

  Keynes met her gaze and narrowed his sharp, hawkish gray eyes as he watched her. She couldn’t look away. She didn’t even want to.

  He whispered something to his wingman, who nodded, glanced at Brianna with a knowing smile, then headed toward the bar.

  Keynes drew close. “You’re the artist, Brianna, right?” He had a resonant voice, though not as deep as Yolen’s.

  “I am. And you’re Mastyr Keynes.”

  He nodded. “You go out with that tall detective who works one of the eastern districts, if I’m not mistaken.”

  She still couldn’t drag her gaze away from Keynes as she gestured with a toss of her hand the opposite direction. “Yolen’s at the bar.”

  Keynes smiled. “That’s it. Detective Yolen. But why would he leave you alone for even a second? He seems to be taking some pretty serious risks with you.”

  She turned toward him a little more, still surprised by his sudden appeal. “He’s getting us a couple of beers. Would you care to join us?” Okay, this was way off the grid, inviting another man to join in her date with Yolen. Somewhere deep inside her brain warning bells started going off.

  His gaze drifted down the front of her shirt, dwelling for a long moment on her cleavage. She’d worn the deep-cut blouse for Yolen, yet right now, she didn’t mind Keynes looking. Sure enough, another warning bell sounded. What the hell was going on with her? Maybe she was more intent on ending things with Yolen than she’d realized.

  His gaze drifted up her throat and his nostrils flared. “By all the elf lords,” he murmured on what sounded like a pained whisper, “you smell incredible.”

  He breathed in again, closing his eyes this time, then leaning close. When he opened them once more, the hunger she saw there aroused her something fierce. Sweet Goddess, what the hell was happening?

  But what she said next, startled her, as though she’d completely lost her moral compass. “See anything you want?” Then she slowly slid her hair away from her throat. Was this her? Why was she doing this? She didn’t understand. But a sudden need to feed the vampire rolled through her in a steady, hot wave.

  “You smell like ancient seas rich with life, with a kind of sweet flower underneath. I don’t think I’ve ever known anything like it.”

  Slowly, he settled a hand on her shoulder, moving in tight to sniff all along her cheek.

  His touch ignited a fire that stunned Brianna and she almost asked him to take her out of there, to take her home, even to take her to bed.

  But she couldn’t do that to Yolen. She tried to draw back, but his hand was clamped on her shoulder and a terrible part of her didn’t want him to let go. And she really didn’t understand why her heart pounded so heavily in her chest, crying out to satisfy what she could sense was the vampire’s terrible craving for her blood.

  * * * * * * * * *

  Yolen tucked his wallet into the back pocket of his jeans and was about to pick up the two pints he’d just bought, when an odd vibration in the air started pummeling him.

  Leaving the beers where they were, he turned slowly in Brianna’s direction. Both biceps flexed all over again, but for a different reason. This time, he smelled Brianna’s desire on the air, his woman’s unique scent, a faint whiff of jasmine combined with sea air, a scent he’d come to love and to savor.

  A scent meant only for him.

  But a man leaned over her, way too close.

  Mastyr Keynes.

  He appeared to be nuzzling Brianna’s neck, his hand caressing her shoulder.

  Worse, Brianna was into him.

  Yolen had only been gone a couple of minutes and not only had another man put the moves on his woman, but Brianna liked what he was doing.

  He heard a strange rushing sound in his ears, blood through his veins. Power rose in a terrifying geyser, a familiar surge attached to his mastyr calling, and he roared.

  He launched himself in levitated flight across the room, well above the crowd. He nicked some of the hanging lights at the same time, which sent people ducking and screaming.

  Keynes, in slow motion, pivoted in his direction, and smiled, his eyes darkening. Then he launched at Yolen.

  At the same moment, he saw Brianna’s eyes widen. She grabbed her shawl and her satchel and moved to the far wall.

  Good. She was safe.

  Then it was game on as he caught the bastard midair and brought him hard to the floor, banging into chairs. Things crashed around him as he pounded Keynes’s face, that smug look of mastyr self-importance.

  Something struck at his own chin and cheek a couple of times, but he wasn’t feeling anything except the need to connect his fist with any part of Keynes’s body.

  But Keynes was damn strong and jumped his feet. Yolen followed and got in a hard hit. Keynes’s head jerked back, just enough for Yolen to watch as Brianna slung her shawl over her shoulders and, with her satchel tucked beneath her arm, left the bar.

  His woman was leaving. He didn’t want her to leave. He couldn’t let her leave.

  When she opened the door, he even felt a cool breeze blow through the space or maybe it was the wind caused by Keynes’s fist as he hit Yolen square on his unguarded jaw.

  Stars followed, as well as an odd view of the bar’s ceiling and swinging overhead lights.

  Yolen drifted to the floor, then everything went dark.

  ***

  Chapter Two

  Shaking something awful, Brianna caught a taxi and rode home, her shawl once more pulled tight around her shoulders.

  She’d never seen Yolen like that, his face ruddy with rage, his body almost parallel to the floor as he flew at Mastyr Keynes.

  And she’d caused this fight.

  She’d never behaved so badly in her entire life. She hadn’t just flirted with Mastyr Keynes, she’d all but thrown herself at him, inviting him to look at her throat. For a vampire, fewer things could be more seductive, and he’d been into her. He’d even mentioned that she smelled of the ocean and something floral. When Yolen drank from her, he said the same thing, only he said she smelled like jasmine.

  A couple minutes more and she had no doubt that if Keynes had said the word, she would have left the bar with him.

  She just didn’t understand.

  Her hands wouldn’t stop shaking so she thrust them beneath her arms and clamped down hard. Pressure helped.

  She squeezed her eyes shut and forced air into her lungs. The trouble was, the moment Keynes had touched her, she’d felt an overwhelming desire to open a vein for him. But now that she was away from him, and had some perspective, she couldn’t believe how she’d pushed her hair away from her throat like that, an equivalent gesture to rubbing her hand on his thigh in order to give a hint that she wanted sex.

  And that was another thing, her entire body had started to warm to the man the longer she felt the weight of his hand on her skin. Did Keynes have some kind of strange, fae-like enthrallment power that had made her desire him?

  The whole experience had left her horribly unsettled and feeling bad about herself. She might have intended to break up with Yolen, but why on earth had she gone after Keynes, when things still weren’t settled between her and Yolen? This was not who she was.

  And she didn’t even l
ike Keynes, or at least she never used to. The whole thing was a mystery she couldn’t make out.

  The taxi arrived at her home and as usual, she tipped the driver well, asking him to stay until she got inside her home. She lived in a two story house with a tall, pitched roof, three bedrooms and a studio that overlooked her backyard. The quiet, shady street rarely saw Invictus activity, but once she’d started dating Yolen, he’d insisted she take extra precautions because of what had happened to Mastyr Alec.

  As she walked up the front pathway, she kept her head moving from side-to-side, checking out the lights and shadows of all her neighbors’ yards and watching the dark night skies for the signs of anyone in flight. She saw nothing untoward and as she crossed her threshold, she waved to the cabby, then locked the door behind her.

  Setting her satchel on the long, wood table by the front door, she pulled out her phone, half expecting a call from Yolen. But her cell just stared at her with that blank look it could get, especially where Yolen was concerned. In the year she’d been dating him, she’d spoken with him on the phone maybe once a week, very briefly, and usually just to confirm their Friday night date.

  Yep, Yolen and his boxes.

  She pressed a hand to her chest. Her heart felt supremely laden now, more so than usual, as though she’d been building up a supply for Yolen all week. She honestly felt as though she had too much blood circulating in her veins, something she didn’t exactly think was possible.

  Certain thoughts flowed suddenly through her mind, how right now, by this time of the evening, she’d be very naked and locked in Yolen’s powerful arms. He’d be feasting at her throat, groaning in that way of his, pathing straight to her mind how much he loved her and how much he savored the way her blood tasted.

  She forgot for a moment that she’d meant to break up with him. Instead, all she could think about was that she’d give just about anything to have Yolen walk through her front door, pick her up, sling her over one of his massive shoulders, then take her straight to bed.

  As it was, her cat rubbed around her ankles and meowed. She wasn’t fooled. Her fat tabby just wanted a treat, or some catnip, or maybe his ears rubbed.

  She leaned down and petted him. “Sorry. But you really aren’t much of a substitute for that vampire.”

  Rising up, she frowned, wondering if she should call Yolen. She might not have liked that he’d gotten into a bar fight with another vampire, but she had to admit that her aberrant behavior had provoked him badly.

  Yet, as she glanced at her phone, she held back. In truth, what difference would it make if she apologized? Would it change anything between them?

  Not likely.

  * * * * * * * * *

  Yolen woke up some time later, lying on a bench and staring at an entire row of iron bars that ran floor to ceiling.

  Where the hell was he?

  His face hurt and he could only see from one eye. Keynes had gotten in a few, powerful hits, the last one taking Yolen out.

  But something else had happened, something that was even now preventing him from doing his quick vampire healing.

  He covered his face with his hands. That’s right. He’d had a surge. Damnit, his jealousy over seeing Keynes’s nose buried against Brianna’s neck had forced his mastyr calling to rise up and threaten to bust wide open. But because he hadn’t actually embraced his calling in that moment, he was left in a debilitated state.

  And his head was killing him, which meant he’d be useless for a few hours more.

  Glancing around, he knew where he was. The Cameron city jail, though usually he worked the other side of the bars.

  He needed to get out of this place and he really needed to talk to Brianna, to warn her that Keynes wasn’t the kind of man she should ever get close to. He had a bad reputation of using women. There were even rumors that more than one of his dates had disappeared from Bergisson Realm altogether. Nothing provable, of course, but as a detective he always went with the smoke-and-fire theory of events.

  The clearing of a throat turned his attention a full one-eighty, to the space behind him, but on the other side of yet another long length of iron bars.

  He opened his one good eye wide and blinked away as much of his blurred vision as he could. What came into view was a vampire he knew well, taller than Yolen, though not necessarily more muscled.

  “Ethan? What the fuck are you doing here?”

  Normally, Mastyr Ethan, who bore Bergisson’s problems squarely on his shoulders, would be out patrolling with his vampire Guard at this hour, hunting for Invictus signs.

  Ethan grinned. “What am I doing? Getting your ass out of jail, that’s what.”

  “But how did you know I was even here?” He swiveled and sat up to face the ruler of the realm. He couldn’t believe anyone at the station would have called him.

  “Actually, my better-half told me to come. Samantha had a vision that you were in some kind of trouble. She’s a fan of yours, you know. Hell, we both are.”

  Yolen clutched his head and grimaced.

  Ethan frowned. “You had another mastyr surge, didn’t you, and that’s why you’re not healing. Am I right?”

  Yolen once more thought back to the moment in the bar when he’d launched at Keynes. “Yeah, I guess I did.”

  “So, what happened?”

  Yolen gave him the upshot, but hated talking about Brianna in the context of welcoming another man’s advances. “I think the sudden rage I felt that Keynes would dare to touch her, brought the surge on.”

  “Fuck, Yolen. You can’t hold out forever. The surges will kill you if you keep this up.”

  “I can manage them.”

  “Like you did tonight?”

  He glared at his friend. “Tonight was different, completely unexpected.”

  “You were out of control and you need to ask yourself why. I’ve got this feeling there’s more going on here than simple jealousy.”

  “Maybe. I don’t know.” But his gaze fell to the cement floor.

  “She walked out, didn’t she?”

  Yolen’s turn to nod. “I think she was breaking up with me, or intended to. I went to get some beers then I smelled her scent, all the way across the bar. I turned to look in her direction and Keynes had his hand on her.”

  Ethan shook his head, frowning. He wore his long curly hair in the traditional Guardsman clasp. “On the best of days, Keynes can be a real dick. But what do you mean you could smell her scent?”

  “It’s nothing. Sort of like she’s wearing a perfume but it’s just her and I don’t know, I just smelled it all the way across the bar.”

  “Huh.”

  “And what does that mean?”

  “I’m not sure, but Samantha has a scent as well.”

  Yolen shook his head. “Hey, the two of you are in this other league. You’ve got that whole blood rose thing going on and you’re a mastyr vampire. Brianna and I don’t fit the bill.”

  “Maybe, but things are changing in the Nine Realms. Just be open to what’s happening between you and Brianna. This has some kind of realm phenomenon written all over it.”

  “You really think so?”

  He held his hands wide. “I’m here. That’s at least one indication something’s going on.”

  The guard unlocked the door and Yolen stepped out, Ethan leading the way.

  Because the surge kept him in a weakened state, he wasn’t fit to fly. Ethan, good friend that he was, called him a cab, then took off into the night.

  Yolen climbed into the car and gave his directions.

  He leaned his head against the seat, watching the come-and-go of the street lamps. They were made of old-fashioned glass, which put him in the newly renovated downtown district. He loved the city of Cameron and had a house across the river so that on any given night he had a view of the skyline all lit up, as well as the tree-studded hills beyond.

  He knew every street, alley, pothole, traffic signal, and coffee shop. He could name the streets the prostitutes t
rolled, and the ones where the wealthy lived with manicured lawns and plenty of green belts. He’d shaken hands with every elven, troll, shifter, fae, and vampire businessman that kept industry humming. And he knew the users and the sellers and spent every waking hour mostly dealing with drug-related homicides.

  He worked steadily to try to break the back of the latest drug-ring, the one that had sent two Invictus pairs straight to Alec’s house the day after he’d embraced his mastyr calling. Alone, Alec might have survived, but he’d thrown himself in front of his wife in an attempt to save her and the two of them had died together.

  The horror of seeing them entwined in death had cemented his belief that he had to keep his work and his personal life in two very separate, secure boxes.

  His city had reached a crisis state, but like hell he would place Brianna in jeopardy by rising to mastyr status. He knew the moment he did, he’d have Invictus on his ass and worse, Brianna could die because of it.

  He just didn’t know who the leader of this most recent drug traffic takeover was. No one seemed to know. The kingpin was clever as hell and had serious ties to the States.

  Arriving home, Yolen went inside. At the sight of the stage he’d set, the one that wouldn’t get used, his shoulders sank.

  His housekeeper had outdone herself. Red rose petals littered the light gray carpet, just as he’d ordered, and a fine condensation coated the outside of the silver champagne bucket, the ice now melted. About two dozen candles, some burnt out and others barely flickering, had probably set the room in one helluva glow.

  He’d envisioned sinking himself into Brianna in front of the fire, watching the flames flicker over her beautiful naked body.

  Yep, he’d had a plan for the evening. Now all he had was a fat lip and a swollen eye, all the elf-lords be-damned.

  He had to make an effort, damnit. Maybe he could give Brianna some kind of concession, let her know how much she meant to him.

  At the same time, he had to help her understand that he wasn’t being small and withholding, that a serious bad guy had designs on their city. He always tried to downplay the danger of his work, but maybe if she knew more about what was going on in the Cameron drug world right now, she’d have more patience with him.