"I will have you," he added softly.
Why was the question that surged my lips, but I didn't give it voice because I very much suspected I already knew the answer.
It was the challenge I represented. Nothing more, nothing less.
Which meant that maybe my best option would be to give in to this heat and hope that once he'd gotten what he wanted, he'd leave me in peace.
Of course, giving in might just cause additional problems, and I didn't really need that right now.
"You may get me physically. I certainly can't deny the burn is there." I studied him for a moment, noting the lazy half smile teasing his lips, the determined glint in his eyes. And I suddenly realized the challenge I represented went even deeper than I'd realized.
"But you don't just want my body, do you, Kye?" I added slowly. "You want the complete package. You want what I'm giving Quinn."
He didn't say anything, but I knew I'd guessed right. I gave him a smile that held a nasty edge. "I'm telling you now, no matter what you do, you won't ever have that. You may have my soul, but that's all you'll ever get."
Anger flared briefly in his eyes, but was just as quickly gone. Control was this man's forte, and he wasn't about to lose it over a well aimed barb. He pushed away from the mantle and strolled over to the table. I shifted as he sat, crossing my legs and pointing them away from him so that there was no danger of our knees meeting. I wasn't sure my hormones could stand such a touch, however light or accidental.
But he was close enough that his delicious scent and the heat of his body swirled around me, teasing my senses and making my pulse race. I took a large gulp of the wine. It didn't do anything to help lessen the fires.
"I thought you might be hungry after your efforts outside Dante's this morning, so I've already ordered lunch," he said conversationally. "I do hope you like roast lamb."
I leaned back in my chair and wondered who he'd been talking to. Two of my favorite things appearing on the menu was one coincidence too many. "Why were you at Dante's this morning?"
He gave me a smile that was all sharkish charm. "Following a lead."
"Yeah, and tomorrow armies across the world will throw down their arms and live in peace."
"Let's hope not. If everyone lived in peace, I'd be out of a job."
"So what is your job this time?"
"Causing problems for you." He glanced around as the door opened and a waiter entered. "Ah, excellent timing. Thank you, Joseph."
Obviously he came here a lot if he was one first name terms with the waiters, because they certainly weren't wearing name tags. "You didn't answer the question."
"Yes, I did."
Frustration swirled through me, but I bit back my retort and gave the waiter a smile as he placed a plate in front of me. The rich smell of lamb wafted upwards, and despite my annoyance, my mouth watered.
I picked up my knife and fork and hopped into it. I might not want to be here, but I sure as hell wasn't going to waste a delicious meal. Especially when I wasn't paying for it.
Not with money, anyway.
The silence stretched between us. The only sound stirring the air was soft music and the clink of cutlery against fine china. But while we may not have been talking, I was all too aware of his every move. Of the way his gaze rested on me as he ate. Of my own heart racing and the deepening ache in my body.
Eventually I finished and slid the plate away with a sigh that was part pleasure and part regret. The meal was finished. That just left the rest of it.
"Okay," I said, picking up my wine and filling the glass again. "What is it you really want, Kye?"
He smiled and leaned back in his chair. "Have you got any leads on the beheadings?"
I countered his question by repeating one of my own. "Why were you at Dante's this morning?"
He raised an eyebrow, his gaze briefly sweeping me, coming to rest of my crossed legs. He reached out and snagged one foot before I could react, then slid off the shoe and tossed it to one side. His quick, clever fingers began to knead my instep and tremors of delight shot up my leg. I licked my lips, torn between the desire to enjoy and the knowledge that that would only lead to complications I'd been fighting to avoid.
"I've been employed by a desperate husband," he said softly, his gaze on mine as he continued to rub and stroke my foot. "His wife is a blood whore and it is endangering his reputation. He's hired me to track her down and take care of her."
"By take care, you mean kill."
"Not directly, as that would do as much damage to his reputation as having a whore for a wife. So I shall arrange an accident that she will not survive."
He said it so flatly, so casually—and I don't know why I was surprised, but I was. Maybe something deep inside—the stupid dark part of me that wanted this man so badly it ached—kept blindly hoping that there was some spark of humanity in him. It would have made this thing between us seem a little more palatable.
But I might as well pray for snow in the middle of a desert.
I ripped my foot from his grasp and shifted my legs further away from him. Amusement glinted in his eyes. So did determination.
"You've just admitted to planning a murder. It happens, and your ass will be in jail quicker than I could say 'thank God'."
He chuckled. It was a rich, mellow sound that ran across my skin. "There are, at last count, at least a dozen rich young things attending that club of Dante's. I know of eight that are married and cuckolding their husbands, and three of those drink so much they are accidents waiting to happen. You'll never know my target from a real accident."
Which wouldn't stop me from trying if there was a sudden run of accidents amongst the upper class. "Technically, they're not cuckolding their husbands. Blood whores get off on vampires taking their blood. The clubs cater to that, not sex."
"Most clubs do adhere to the rules. Some, like Dante's, do not. Half the upstairs is given over to private rooms, and the whores pay a hefty price to be fully serviced."
"And that's how you're hoping to catch your client's wife? You have the rooms bugged and are recording events?" It also explained why he was so horny. Voyeurism was a part of the wolf culture—and a huge turn-on for most of us.
"Yes, but she hasn't been there for a few days, hence my hanging about catching all your activities."
"So you were there on stake-out when Grant Haven was beheaded?"
"You already know I was. I reported—or got that woman to report—the crime."
"And yet you claim you didn't see anything."
He picked up his empty wine glass and toyed with it idly, twirling it around his fingers like he had the knife in the warehouse. "You've never actually asked me what I saw that night."
Fucking hell… "Kye," I said, acerbically, "What the hell did you see that night?"
He was silent for a moment, continuing to toy with his glass. I watched the movements, the quickness of his fingers, and wondered what those fingers could do if they played across my flesh.
"Perhaps," he said softly. "It's not so much a matter of what I saw, but what I know."
"What I know is I'm barely resisting the urge to haul your ass downtown, find some nasty murder to pin on you, and throw your smart mouth in jail."
He merely smiled. "Grant Haven was a member of the Melbourne vamp council. The rumor is that the vampire who was beheaded and incinerated the day before Haven was also a council member."
"And Henry Gateway?"
"I haven't been able to find confirmation one way or another, but I suspect he might have been, too."