Jamie stared at her like she was crazy. I so am. She knew her own weakness. Fury was boiling inside of her right then, and she was going to let that fury out. Jamie needed to be away from her when the rage broke free. I should have been the one to kill Brian.

“Get back into the car, and just drive away,” she told Jamie, fighting to keep her voice steady. Iona figured he deserved the warning to get the hell away from her.

Jamie’s jaw clenched even as his hand dropped. “We’ve been over this. You need—”

“I don’t need anyone or anything.” She stepped back. Glanced down at Brian’s body. He certainly looked dead.

But then, according to Jamie, she’d appeared dead, too.

Let’s make sure.

“Don’t worry about Latham,” Iona told him as she tossed a quick glance back at Jamie’s tense face. “He’s next on my list.” Latham wouldn’t escape their battle alive. “So consider whatever little war that you had with him, well, consider it over.”

Jamie shook his head. “This isn’t…”

She lifted her hands. “There’s something you should know. I’m not just a vampire.” If she had been, then Brian would have never been able to bind her. Kill her, yes, but a binding wasn’t the type of magic that would normally work on vampires.

Binding. That was what he’d done. Not just a curse or a spell. He’d performed a ritual binding on her. One witch…

To another.

Flames began to flicker above her palms. Not touching her skin, never that, but spinning, burning, right above her flesh. “You need to leave now,” she told Jamie.

This time, he backed the hell up.

Smart man.

She stood near Brian’s body. Her father had known what she was so long ago. That was why he had tried to burn her. If you wanted to destroy a witch, truly destroy her, then you had to use fire.

Iona drew back her hand and sent flames rushing right at Brian’s body. “Burn,” she whispered as the fire greedily leapt onto his flesh. “Burn.”

One down. One to go.

***

She was everything he’d hoped that she would be…and so much fucking more.

Jamie stalked behind Iona, being careful to keep a safe distance between them. He was downwind of her, but with her enhanced vampire senses, he was still worried she’d catch his scent.

He didn’t want her aware of him, not yet.

She’d stirred fire.

Vampires didn’t control fire. As a rule, they were just bloodsuckers. Sure, they could be super strong, they could live for freaking ever—provided they didn’t get staked or lose their heads to a werewolf’s claws—but they didn’t stir fire from nothing.

Only witches could do that.

The stories had been right about that point, too. Iona wasn’t just a Born Vampire. She was a very, very powerful witch.

No wonder she’d been locked up. Caged near the water so the energy from the ocean would work to reinforce the spell. She might just be the most dangerous woman he’d ever met.

That fact only made him want her more.

Perfect. In so many ways. And Jamie wasn’t about to let her go. Not when he’d risked so much to find her.

Not when he’d had to make his own deal with the devil to claim her.

So now…yeah, okay, probably not his finest moment, but he was following her through the dark. Keeping his gaze on her as she slipped through the shadows.

Of course, Jamie knew what she was doing. Hunting. Going for another taste of blood.

Not gonna work, baby. You’re stuck with me. Did he feel guilty about that? No. These days, he couldn’t afford to feel guilty about anything and—

And she was gone.

Jamie hurried forward as his heart raced in his chest. It had only been a moment and—

He was tossed against the side of a dumpster.

“Following me? Really? What must I do?” Iona demanded as she put her hands on her hips. “Rip off your head in order to make you stop?”

Taking his time, he stood back up. She’d tossed him about ten feet. Jamie made a show of brushing dirt off his jeans and shirt. Mostly to give himself time to think, then he replied, “You’re afraid to rip off my head. Part of you already knows that I’ve told you the truth.” He headed toward her, not trying to keep his footsteps quiet any longer as his feet crunched over the gravel. “And if you kill me, you know that you’ll be killing yourself.”

It sounded like she hissed at him. He almost smiled but then—then he blinked and Iona was in front of him. She’d closed the distance herself, effortlessly. A distance of ten feet, in less than a second’s time. “Let’s get one thing straight.” She pushed up on her toes. Stabbed a finger into his chest. “I’m not afraid of anything. Or anyone.”

Right. She probably wasn’t.

And, damn, she was sexy. His gaze dropped to her mouth. Her lips had been the softest that he’d ever felt. He could still taste her on his tongue. The sweetness had been a surprise. From her, he’d expected spice.

“Why…why are you looking at me like that?” Iona asked as her gaze searched his.

He could tell her the truth. “Because I want to kiss you.”

Her poking finger jerked back as if she’d been burned. “You mean that you want to take more of my blood. So you can get stronger and so you can—”

He caught her shoulders and pulled her close. Her body brushed against his. Soft. He loved the way she felt. “I mean I want your lips beneath mine. I want to taste you. I want to savor you.”

She swallowed. “Your brogue is…thicker.”

“Yeah, it gets that way when I’m turned on.”

Her lips parted.

“I want your mouth,” he said again, no longer willing to fight the desire he felt for her. Why bother? They were locked together, even if she didn’t realize it.

He was more than ready to start enjoying the perks of the deal.

For an instant, Jamie was sure he saw the flicker of an answering desire in her golden gaze. But then her chin rose as she said, “And I want blood.”

The implied not yours was clear as she pulled away from him. As he watched her, Iona turned on her heel and headed toward the faint sound of music that drifted in the air.

Yes, she was heading toward big, bad bar number two in the town of Shade. So predictable.

In fact, her move was so incredibly predictable that he’d already told Sean they’d be coming that way. When Jamie had gone hunting for Iona earlier that night, he and Sean had separated. One bar for each man.

Jamie had gotten lucky. He’d found Iona at the Shore Tavern.

But when he’d talked to Sean on the phone, he’d told the other wolf that he’d be coming to meet him. I knew she’d want to try tasting someone else.

He knew, but he didn’t like it. In fact, it made him feel…jealous?

Impossible.

It should have been impossible. Yet Jamie found himself hurrying to keep pace with her. And, moments later, when Iona pushed open the door to the bar, when the bouncer gave her a welcoming smile, and all eyes seemed to greedily stroke her body, Jamie’s beast gave a growl.

Back the hell off.

The music was pumping. Loud and—

“The music has changed.” Iona tilted her head as she listened to the pounding beat. “I think…I like it better now.”

He kept forgetting she’d missed so much in the last fifteen years.

Her hips began to sway. The men began to close in.

Hell. He put his arm around her shoulders.

Those men backed up. Damn straight. If they’d come closer, he might have even flashed fang.

“It will be harder to find good prey with you at my side.” Her voice was low and husky and her hips were still rocking.

“Too bad. I don’t plan on backing off.” She didn’t seem to realize the gigantic threat that hung over her. Latham could attack, at any time. Yes, she was strong. But so was Latham. And if he caught her off-guard… “I don’t want Latham putting you under again.”

Her hips stopped rocking. She glanced at him. Anger had melted the gold in her eyes so that her gaze just burned. “He won’t.” Then, with a toss of her head, so queen-like that Jamie had to smile—he’d started to rather like that touch of haughtiness—she sauntered across the bar.

It took him about ten seconds too long to realize that she’d already picked her out prey.

By then, Iona had her hand on the chest of her would-be victim. A familiar victim. The bar was behind Sean, trapping the guy as he stood right in front of Iona.

She chose my first-in-command? Fuck. Jamie stalked toward them. He’d just closed in when he heard—

“I think this could be fun,” Iona murmured as she leaned toward Sean.

Sean’s shocked gaze darted to Jamie.

“You aren’t doing this,” Jamie snapped. He grabbed her arm. For some reason, he didn’t want her touching the other werewolf. He glared down at Iona. “I already told you, it isn’t going to work. You can’t take anyone else’s blood.”

“And I told you…I don’t believe you.”

She was making him want to howl. And making him want to toss her over his shoulder and carry her away from Sean. Away from all the other men there.

Her head turned as she studied Sean. “Maybe one werewolf will be as good as another, and at least with him, I’ll be sure he isn’t on drugs.” Her gaze slid back to Jamie. “I’m betting you run a tight ship when it comes to that.”

He did. Drugs would make his wolves weak. He didn’t allow for weakness. Weakness would just get them killed.

“This way, I don’t have to kill any humans…yet.” She offered first Jamie, then Sean a smile that flashed her sharp little teeth. Then her focus centered on Sean as she said, “So point me toward a private room, and let’s just see how you taste, wolf.”

Women liked Sean, they sure fell into his bed easily enough. Maybe it was because Sean appeared easy-going, and often…normal. A big bonus for a guy who was actually paranormal. Sean was a perfect chameleon. He could fit in with just about anyone, anywhere. Unlike Jamie, he’d dropped his Irish years ago, and, in fact, he could fake other accents—depending on where he was and who he wanted to fool—almost instantly.

Jamie fisted his hands and fought to hold on to his control.

Iona appeared determined. And a little too satisfied with her drinking scheme.

The woman wasn’t stopping. Not until she’d tried to drink from someone else. He could fight her, but he knew Iona wouldn’t give up. “One sip,” Jamie said, his voice clipped. Just one. That would be all she’d need to find out if the blood worked for her.

And if it does work? He couldn’t think about that possibility right then. The witch had been adamant. The wolf that woke her would be the wolf that controlled her.

He didn’t think Brian had been lying, but since the witch was dead, it wasn’t like he could find out for certain.

And I have to make sure she doesn’t find out about my deal with Brian. Because if she did…

“There’s a room in the back.” Sean inclined his head toward a dark, narrow hallway. “Right through there.”

Wasn’t that just fantastic.

“Lead the way,” Iona invited him with a wave of her hand.

But Sean wasn’t an idiot. He glanced at Jamie, waiting to see what his alpha wanted.

“Keep your hands off her,” Jamie ordered him, voice lethal. “She gets one taste—one.”

Sean gave a nod. As a rule, werewolves weren’t up for being vamp prey. Only this wasn’t a typical situation.

Iona wasn’t your average vamp.

Sean headed down the hallway. Iona didn’t move, and Jamie was far too conscious of her body near his. Her eyes narrowed as she studied him, then Iona crooked her finger, inviting him closer. His head bent toward her, the move automatic. She rose onto her toes. Her lips brushed against his ear as she said, “I don’t need your permission to feed from prey.”

He turned his head. Made sure their eyes met. “In order to touch you, he needs my permission.” Because, dammit, Jamie had already started to think of her as—

Mine.

“Werewolves…always the same.” Iona sighed as she eased away from him. “You think that you can control everyone and everything around you.” She sauntered toward that dark hallway.

“No.” The growl slipped from him.

Iona looked back at Jamie.

“I can’t control everything. If I could, there’d be more than six members of my pack still alive.” He stalked to her, aggressive, deliberately so. “If I could control everything, my family would be alive. I wouldn’t have come home to find my mother and father dead, their bodies savaged. Latham wouldn’t have killed them.” His parents had come to this country because they’d wanted a fresh start. They’d brought their pack over with them. Everyone had been so hopeful, at first.

What could have been sympathy or maybe even pity flashed in her stare. That faint emotion just stirred up his anger even more. Pity was the last thing he wanted from her.

His body brushed against hers. “And if I could control everything,” his voice was for her alone, “then I’d already have gotten you, naked, under me, and I wouldn’t be so wild with lust that I want to rip apart my own best friend…because you’re about to put your mouth on him.”

The words surprised him with their brutal truth. The lust he felt for her…it was just growing. Stronger and stronger. Almost like he was under some kind of spell.