Damien immediately thought of several ways he’d enjoy being coerced, and just as quickly had to shove them aside. This was so far from the time and place…

“Even in my line of work, cutting is toward the more extreme end of coercion.” He shifted purposely, then sucked in a breath and winced when the blade cut just a little deeper. Just as he’d expected. The sensation wasn’t pleasant, but the look on Ariane’s face made the momentary pain worth it.

The hand on the hilt of the blade finally quivered.

“I—”

She didn’t get another word out. In a series of motions Damien could execute as easily as breathing, he twisted her wrist so she dropped the sword. As it fell to the floor with a muffled thump, he lunged for her, pulling her against him and dropping both of them to the ground before she could pull out any other sharp objects she might have on her person. He pinned Ariane beneath him, gripping her wrists at either side of her head. She was completely at his mercy now.

That was, if he could get over how it felt to have every inch of her pressed against him. His eyes wanted to roll back in his head as every nerve ending began to sing something suspiciously like the “Hallelujah Chorus.” He distracted himself the only way he knew how.

“Ariane,” he scolded her. “Pity is charming, but in my case, ill advised. You should never trust a Shade.”

Her fangs flashed at him. “Bastard!”

Damien chuckled. “Ooh, another naughty word. Are you being tutored?”

Ariane gave a sharp, infuriated yelp. But though he felt her muscles tense, he knew she couldn’t move. She might be powerful—hell, what he’d seen left him thinking she was uncomfortably close to Lily in that department—but size and weight had their advantages.

“Let me go!” she demanded.

Damien barked out a laugh. “Are you joking? You just had a sword at my throat! I’d like to keep my head tonight, thanks. And you deserve to suffer a bit. My shirt is ruined.”

“I hate you.” She hissed the words, words he’d heard thousands of times before, including from his own brothers on numerous occasions. They’d ceased to bother him centuries ago—both the words and the brothers, who were long ago dust and bones—but from Ariane’s lips, they sounded harsh, wrong. She didn’t seem a creature made for hate, even with a deadly weapon in her hand.

“No,” he said quietly, hardly knowing why he spoke. “You don’t hate me.”

Despite the frustration still pouring from Ariane in waves, Damien quickly became aware of the way her curves fitted perfectly against him, the way her heart pulsed against his chest. Her skin warmed beneath his hands, and her breath fanned his face, cool and sweet.

His cock hardened immediately. Damien knew she would be able to feel it, rigid and unmistakable along her thigh. He didn’t give a damn about that. All he was going to get was a raging case of blue balls that he deserved anyway for doing such a piss-poor job handling things tonight.

He didn’t expect to feel her hips shift beneath him as she tried, one last time, to throw him off. In an instant, he found himself nestled directly, and very firmly, between her thighs. Damien’s breath left him in a stunned rush as Ariane’s cheeks flushed a deep, embarrassed pink.

“Maybe you do hate me,” he gritted out.

“Let me up,” she said, sounding more than a little breathless. “I’ve decided not to kill you.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “Lucky me.”

Ariane frowned up at him. “You’re wasting time with this! I want to know what the other man might have heard. Don’t you? I think we can at least agree on that, unless you’re going to try and find a way to keep me from talking to him too. Where is he?”

Damien sighed. “For the last time, I did not take Manon’s head off. And the fledgling can’t have gone far. I can still hear him blubbering back in the offices somewhere. Can’t you?”

She was still for a moment, listening, and then nodded slowly. He should have let her up then. Damien knew she was right, that they both had a vested interest in cornering Manon’s unfortunate associate and gleaning what information they could before the man went completely off the deep end. But something kept him in place, whether it was the surprisingly right feeling of her body nestled against him, or the look in her eyes as they stayed locked with his, anger slowly shifting to confusion and… something very like desire, tentative, but there just the same.

That was all it took to send every rational thought from his mind.

Damien felt the purr welling up in his throat again, just as it had the night he’d met her. It was already clear he would have to be very careful where she was concerned. He really ought to turn her in and get her out of the way.

And yet…

“You’re going to make trouble for me, aren’t you, kitten?” he murmured.

“No more than you’ve already made for me,” she replied.

He felt a rare, genuine grin curve his mouth. “Ah, but you’re interfering with my livelihood, whereas you’re just on an altruistic little adventure. And, as you’ve already mentioned a few times, I’m a Shade. My scruples run from questionable to nonexistent. If our paths keep crossing, I’m going to start taking liberties to punish you for getting in my way.” His grin widened as her flush grew deeper.

“Get in my way again and more than just your shirt will get ruined.”

Damien chuckled, amused that she thought she could intimidate him when she looked and sounded so charmingly disgruntled. “Really, kitten. Give me a little credit. I believe I’m going to take a liberty just for the insult to my considerable skill.”

“Don’t.” She wiggled a little in protest, which did nothing but create delicious friction between the two of them. He saw the bright shock of it stamped clearly on her face as she abruptly stilled. Oh, she would be an adventure to educate, if he had the time.

When he had time. He’d make some, just as soon as he figured out where she was staying so he could drop in. Preferably through a window, directly onto her bed.

It was a struggle to talk around that damned vibration that wanted to rumble up from the depths of his throat, but he just managed.

Don’t purr, don’t purr, do not purr…

“Don’t what?” he asked, his eyes growing heavy-lidded in anticipation. “Something like this?” Damien lowered his head to Ariane’s neck, barely letting his nose graze her skin as he inhaled, deeply, breathing in the scent of an English rose garden. Longing, far more powerful than he’d anticipated, rushed over him in a wave.

He heard Ariane’s shuddering breath, could smell the wild, sweet scent of her arousal mingling with the roses. It provoked him, more than he could contain.

“Or perhaps I shouldn’t do this,” he said, lowering his head farther. As he did, the purr finally rumbled up, the sound rippling from his throat while he licked a long, hot trail up the side of Ariane’s neck, ending at her earlobe, which he gave a flick with his tongue, then a nip.

The sound she made as she rose up against him was like music, and Damien forgot where they were, forgot himself, forgot everything but the promise of what Ariane could, and would, give him as they lay here…

Glass shattered, viciously tearing him away from the warm cocoon of fantasy. Ariane went rigid. Damien’s blood ran ice cold. He whipped his head up and cursed. He could still taste Ariane like honey on his lips, and yet once again, some stupid vamp had decided to suck all the pleasure out of his evening.

He was on his feet in a heartbeat, pointedly ignoring the sight of Ariane sprawled invitingly on the plush Oriental rug. He had the sick feeling that he always got in the pit of his stomach when things began to go horribly wrong. And as they hadn’t really gone right yet, it could only be the harbinger of nothing good.

Passing darkened offices, Damien sprinted down the hallway toward the single light. The pitiful moaning of the terrified young vampire had stopped, a bad sign. And when he arrived at the doorway of the lit office, it got much worse. Glass littered the floor, letting in the sultry heat of this late summer night. There was a great deal of blood.

And no sign of the fledgling.

He felt Ariane at his side, staring at the scene. Damien couldn’t decide whether he was angrier at her for being so obstinate about pursuing a job he was being paid to do, or at himself for not being able to concentrate properly when she was around. In the end, it was easier to choose both.

“I told you I didn’t kill Manon,” Damien snapped, crunching through the glass on the floor to look out into the night. As high as they were, fifteen floors up, he wasn’t sure how the other vampire had been taken—but where supernatural powers were concerned, he knew that where there was a will, there tended to be a way. A look into the night revealed nothing, neither in the sky nor on the ground below. The fledgling vampire and the attacker who had come back to finish what he or she had started were gone.

As was his sole lead.

He rounded on Ariane, who was looking out with a strange expression on her face.

“I hope you’re happy,” Damien growled. The anger was a welcome change from the confusion that seemed to descend over him every time he got too close to the woman. “Now I’ve got nothing to go on. If you hadn’t wasted so much time chasing me around with that ridiculous sword, I’d have gotten what I needed.”

It took a moment, but Ariane finally turned to him. Still, he felt like he had only half of her attention at best. She seemed troubled. And not at all intimidated by his snap of temper.

“We’ve both made a mistake, I think. It isn’t safe here.”

Damien snorted. “What gave you that impression?”

Again, she ignored his sharp tongue, frowning as she turned to look at the spray of blood that screamed “slit throat” to Damien. Wherever the fledgling had gone, he doubted that the vampire’s weak constitution was a problem any longer. And unfortunately, tonight confirmed that tracking down this Grigori was going to be a lot stickier than he’d hoped. Really, he should have figured. Why else would he have been hired if the work wasn’t going to be difficult and dirty?