Kiss of Shadows [Claiming Series, #4]

- 3 -

He'd almost had her. He was sure of it. Very few could resist the Voice or the seduction when a vampire put his mind to it. But this one had. Somehow. And she'd gone at him in a way that had made him make the biggest mistake possible: he'd jumped away too fast.

God, where had his mind gone? Of course, he knew. It had gone to that sweetest and most demanding of places where the object of his Hunger had overruled him. He had been near the brink of madness with desire.

But after all these centuries it was embarrassing to have to question himself. Had Hunger truly pushed him into the stupidest thing he could have done?

Evidently so. And now he had to think fast because she was a question he should not truthfully answer, and because he'd embarrassed Asher. If this woman talked to her detected friend about this, Asher would be furious and have a lot of explaining to do.

It was not very courteous of him as a guest to have put Asher in his position. He had to fix this and fix it fast to that Asher wouldn't have to leave town to protect his identity, so that his wife, Julie, who was medical examiner, wouldn't be forced to give up her job...

The import of what he had just done crashed through him like a tsunami, to be followed by waves of desperation nearly as strong. The Hunger and lust that had driven him now took a definite backseat to damage control.

He straightened, clearing his throat, and tried to evade the question as his mind raced over how to handle this. Unfortunately, after what had just happened, he didn't he was going to be able to make her forget it.

But he tried anyway because there was no mistaking that, for at least a very brief time, she'd responded to his control. "Forget," he said in the Voice that most humans had to obey. "Forget this happened."

"I'm not about to forget this," she retorted hotly. "Just who do you think you are? You're supposed to be a private detective, you pervert!"

Pervert? That was entirely possible, and he didn't exactly object to the word either. Perversion was, after all, largely in the eye of the beholder. He wouldn't mind binding her with silken ropes and getting her to admit she wanted him, too. And she did. He smelled her arousal around her as clearly as he could see her right now.

However, this was not solving the problem either. She was mad and needed to be soothed, the quicker the better.

"I was overcome by your charms," he said, which at least was true. She, however, astonished him by not believing it.

"Yeah. Really. As if you're a sixteen-year-old who thinks with your groin. You were out of line. Way out of line."

"I apologize."

But clearly that wasn't going to satisfy her either. Concern for Asher hung over him like a dark cloud.

He wasn't at all concerned for himself. Staring down the barrel of her gun might make her feel better, but for him it meant nothing. He was certain that, like most cops, she was trained to shoot at center mass. Any wound she could give him would not kill him unless she hit him in the head, the last place a cop was trained to aim for.

Regardless, he could move so fast the instant he saw her trigger finger tighten that she didn't have a hope of hitting him anywhere at all.

But of course he was not going to illuminate her. He'd already illuminated her far too much.

Amusement might have gripped him except for his concern about Asher. Never, not once in Iain's countless years, had a woman ever denied him. Now that one had, he realized he was in quicksand of his own making. How maddening. But for himself he didn't care. He could be gone faster than she could be able to see. No, other concerns pinned his feet to the floor, forcing him to battle his natural urges and ignore his own abilities.