Next to him, Ursula jerked awake, a scared gasp coming from her lips.

“Can’t you knock?” Oliver growled at his sire.

“Damn it, Oliver, did you not listen to anything I said last night?”

“I haven’t done anything!”

Quinn looked him up and down. “Oh, stop lying!”

Outraged at Quinn’s wrong interpretation of the situation, Oliver grabbed one edge of the blanket, wanting to get out of bed, but Quinn lifted his hand in protest.

“Spare me the sight of your naked body!” Then he turned.

“But I’m not—” Naked, he’d wanted to say, but Quinn slammed the door.

From the corridor, he issued one last command. “Get dressed! Samson wants to see you. Now!”

Then his footsteps were swallowed by the rug in the hallway.

Oliver shoved a hand through his messy hair. “Ah, shit!” He looked at Ursula.

Her eyes were wide open in shock and embarrassment. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked you to stay.”

He smiled at her and stroked his knuckles over her cheek. “Don’t be silly. He’ll calm down. He’s just not used to me having a girl over.”

Oliver dished up the explanation even though he knew it wasn’t true. Quinn was worried about what he would do to Ursula if his hunger for blood became too much. He’d made his concerns clear earlier. But that still didn’t excuse him busting into the room without knocking. Something else must have gotten Quinn all riled up.

“You don’t have many girls stay over?”

He bent to her and pressed a kiss on her cheek. “No. You’re the first.” Then he straightened. “And as much as I would love to stay with you right now, I’d better see what my boss wants.”

A frightened look crossed her features. “You’re leaving me alone with them?”

“You have nothing to fear. They won’t harm you.” In fact, she would be much safer with Quinn, Rose, and Blake than with him. At least, none of those three was tempted by her blood. But he kept his thoughts to himself.

With another reassuring look at her, he swung himself out of bed, snatched his shirt from the floor and left her room. He went to his room, and ten minutes later he was ready to face his boss. It wasn’t unusual that Samson wanted to see him. Samson often called him to his private residence to check in with him and see how he was doing. After working as his personal assistant for over three years, Oliver still had an especially close relationship with his boss, even though he was now assigned to other duties.

Unfortunately, this meeting with Samson was damn inconvenient. Oliver had wanted to stop by headquarters to see if he could find out more about what had gone down with those crazy vampires at the nightclub.

Quinn was in the foyer when Oliver descended the stairs. His sire gave him an odd look. Still annoyed about his rude intrusion—which was so unlike Quinn’s impeccable manners—he lifted his chin and glared at him.

“Next time get your facts straight: I wasn’t naked!”

Then he sailed past him and slammed the door, realizing too late that he had parked the car in the garage. “Damn it!”

But he was too proud to turn around and go back inside. Samson’s Victorian house was only a stone’s throw away in neighboring Nob Hill. He would just have to walk there.

Delilah, Samson’s wife opened the door for him when he arrived. She looked lovely as ever and had completely regained her figure after the birth of her daughter Isabelle only six months earlier.

“Hi Oliver, how are you?”

He smiled at her and entered the house, pulling the door shut behind him. “Nice to see you, Delilah. How’s Isabelle? Is she sleeping?”

Delilah sighed, motioning him to follow her into the living room. “I wish! But I’m afraid she’s keeping her father’s hours!”

“Samson wanted to see me.”

Delilah crouched down to the floor where a large blanket had been spread out. “He’s still on the phone. Why don’t you keep me company in the meantime?”

She tossed a little ball in Isabelle’s direction, and the girl reached for it, but a Labrador puppy suddenly jumped onto it and snatched it.

“Coco!” she chided the dog. “You don’t give her a chance.”

But the toddler didn’t seem to mind having been bested by her pet. Isabelle laughed, and it sounded more like a gurgle, but her eyes beamed when she smiled up at Oliver, flashing tiny fangs at him.

“God, she gets bigger every week.” He bent down and stretched his arms out to her. “Do you want to come to Uncle Oliver?”