“He’s done horrible things.” The hairs stood up on her arms at the memory. “I can’t tell if it’s in the present or an echo of his past, but we need to check him out.”

“His name is Khalil, and I know he has darker appetites.” A hard edge to his tone. “I’ll put a discreet watch on him. For now, he appears occupied with a blonde barely into her womanhood, so we may go and speak to Louis.”

The two of them closed the distance to the bouncer.

“Sorry for the wait.” Janvier’s insouciant smile invited the other man to laugh and he did.

“Some things take priority. Especially when the priority is so very beautiful.”

“I like you, Louis.” Ashwini tried to keep her tone playful, despite the fact that she felt scraped raw on the inside.

“If you ever decide against this no-good swamp rat, you know where you can find me.” Louis slid his eyes a whisper to the right. “Brown sugar in the sequined green mini-jumpsuit thing, blonde fantasy twins, and the built guy shaved to within an inch of his life. Regular donors here. Tight foursome. High chance they would’ve crossed paths with your girl.”

Ashwini covertly checked out the group, caught them giving Janvier a greedy appraisal. Unsurprising. He might not be dressed in leather or lace or velvet, nor have the honed beauty of the oldest vampires, but Janvier was six feet three inches of pure indulgent sex. He wasn’t even trying to project that at this instant—his sexual attractiveness was innate, created by his confidence, the lithe strength of his body, the lazy smile that said he knew every sin and had invented a few new ones.

“Janvier,” she said, stepping away from him, the loss of contact bruising, “we’re about to have a fight. I’ll be storming off with Louis.”

A raised eyebrow. “Will it be a passionate fight?”

“I could slap you, but I think I’ll settle for calling you a cheating bastard after Louis lets slip the news of your philandering ways.”

Sighing, Janvier said, “All four?”

“They think you’re delicious.” She tried not to find his less than enthusiastic expression adorable and failed. “I’m the impediment.”

“Rescue me in fifteen?”

“We’ll see.”

Louis obligingly said something right then, and she turned on Janvier. “I can’t believe you did that!” She shoved at his chest, the warm muscle beneath flexing under her touch. “You cheating piece of vampire slime! I hate you!”

“Bébé.” Janvier spread his arms, voice cajoling. “It was nothing, a taste onl—”

“That’s it!” She inserted an infuriated high-drama scream in lieu of throwing a drink in his face. “We’re done! Go taste someone else, you bastard!”

•   •   •

Janvier watched Ashwini stride away, her hips moving provocatively beneath the snug fit of her jeans. “Take care of her,” he said quietly to his friend. “She is my eternity, Louis.”

“As you pointed out, she can take care of herself,” the other man replied, “but I’ll keep an eye on her in case she needs backup.” Grabbing Ash’s jacket after Janvier slid his eyes to it, Louis went after her.

Turning to the bar, Janvier found the barkeep giving him a sympathetic look. “Women,” the younger male said with a shrug. “She was seriously hot, though. The dangerous kind of hot.”

Yes, his Ashblade was dangerous.

The dark-haired woman sidling over to him, her body clad in a sparkly green jumpsuit that ended barely south of her ass, was a mewling kitten in comparison.

Pretending not to see her, he nursed his drink. It was a single-malt whiskey, a good one, the flavor rich and textured.

It stood no chance against the intoxicating wildness that was the taste of his hunter.

Her kiss earlier had staggered him, enslaved him. He wasn’t surprised at his body’s response—he’d known for a long time that Ash owned him and always would. He just had to convince her to claim him, brand him. A public kiss? Hell, yes, he’d take that as a first step.

“Hi.”

Taking his time to respond to the soft greeting, he found himself looking into a pair of uptilted brown eyes made up with glittering green and black kohl, her cheekbones sharp under glowing brown skin and her hair a sheet of ebony. “Hi.” He kept his tone deliberately cool, reading her like he would an open book—the kitten, it seemed, wanted to play with a wolf.

Sinking her teeth into her plump lower lip, the gloss she wore a sheen of wet, she slid her hand down his biceps. “I saw your girlfriend leave.”

When he didn’t shake her off, she stepped close enough that her breasts pressed into his body, her fingers curving around his upper arm at the same time. “She didn’t treat you right.”

“She’s passionate.” A woman who loved and fought with her heart and her soul, unrestrained and furiously honest.

“I can be passionate.” A husky invitation. “And I have friends.”

Shifting to face the group toward which she’d nodded, the three others ensconced in an intimate seating area, he found enticing smiles pointed in his direction. “Are your friends accommodating?” He leaned back with his elbows braced on the bar.

“Oh, yes.” The kitten brushed her fingers over the pulse in her neck. “Very.”

Janvier found her attempts at manipulation amusing; she clearly had no idea of exactly how big a wolf she’d approached. “I don’t move on the claimed.”