Caitlin took a long pause, but then felt reckless. “There’s a shapeshifter in town who says he’s been hired to track them.”

“How do you know he’s not blowing smoke up your ass?”

Caitlin flinched at the language, but this was Case; she should expect it by now.

“Don’t tell me you trust him,” he pressed her, his ice-blue eyes probing her face.

“Hardly,” Caitlin scoffed. “He’s a shifter, through and through. But I think he’s right about these things. I saw…” She shuddered, remembering. “I saw a man die tonight. There was something inside him, struggling to get out, and then…there wasn’t. And whatever it was, when it left, it left the body fried. It was awful.”

She realized she hadn’t had time to process the fact that a man had died right in front of her, a grotesque, horrific, painful end to an innocent human being who had wanted nothing more than a good time in her city. She found she was shaking, tears stinging her eyes. She turned away, fumbling for the arm of the sofa to sit down.

And then Case was striding toward her, pulling her into his arms, holding her. “I’m sorry,” he whispered into her hair. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”

Her instinct was to pull away, but to her vast surprise, he didn’t try to kiss her, didn’t make any moves, just stood holding her, his arms strong and sure around her, and suddenly she felt warm and comforted and not so alone.

Case was stroking her hair, and she found feelings stirring she wasn’t aware she still had. Attraction, for the first time in years. Confusing, conflicting…

As if feeling the change in her, Case tipped her head up to his and moved to kiss her, but she turned quickly, and he only caught her on the cheek.

“No,” she murmured, without pulling away.

“We’re alike, Caitlin. We understand each other.” He kissed her mouth this time, and in spite of a warning voice in her head, she felt herself starting to respond, her body moving against his.

He was so familiar. They’d known each other for years, after all.

He’d been her teacher, her companion, her lover….

She raised her hands weakly to push him away, and he took her wrists in a strong grip and pinned them behind her back as he moved against her, opening her mouth under his.

His shoulders were so broad…and his thighs were thick, roped with muscle….

Not Case…she realized. The body against hers was not Case.

She opened her eyes and looked into his and saw not blue, but green.

And at that moment she wrested her wrists away and shoved him savagely. “No.”

The air around him shimmered, shifted…and the illusion was gone. Ryder stood in front of her, his shirt half open, revealing a man’s body, not a boy’s.

“Liar. Cheat.” She practically snarled at him, fumbling to close her robe, still panting, her heart racing with desire—and fury.

For the first time he looked flustered himself. “I’m sorry. I didn’t intend… I was… I got caught up.”

Ryder was mortified. He’d intended only to get information from her, taking the form of the young shifter she obviously, foolishly, trusted enough that she was willing to spill any amount of information. But then she’d started to cry, and once he had her in his arms…

She was plainly furious, flushed with anger—and desire, he noted, her skin rosy with unmistakable arousal, and that made him harden again with the desire to finish what they’d started.

He moved toward her again, and she backed away from him.

“I want you out.”

“There’s one false word in that sentence,” he said, and caught her around the waist to kiss her roughly again, backing her against the wall and grinding himself slowly against her as he crushed her mouth under his…hearing her gasp and feeling her trembling under him, the fire racing through her body, meeting the fire in his.

Then he released her abruptly. He stared down at her where she stood flushed and shaking against the wall…felt his own heart racing….

“I think you knew that was me,” he told her. “And I think you know what you want.”

Then he turned and walked out of her house.

Caitlin slammed the door hard behind him. She was in a fever pitch of anger—and just plain fever. She refused to think of what he’d said to her or whether it was true. He’d used his Other skills to deceive and seduce. He was entirely in the wrong.

And yet her face burned, remembering his quiet accusation that she had known it was him making love to her…and she felt his body against hers again, his mouth crushing hers….

Stop it, she ordered herself. He’s a shifter. He tricked you. This is war.

Chapter 9

Four sleepless hours later, Caitlin dragged herself out of the shambles of the bed she’d done nothing but toss and turn in all through the last small hours of the morning. She cursed Ryder and his entire family.

Shuffling into the bathroom, she caught a glimpse of herself in the gilt-framed mirror and groaned. She looked more hungover than the most out-of-control tourist at Mardi Gras, and she hadn’t even had the pleasure of indulgence.

Oh, yes, you did, a traitorous voice whispered in the back of her head. There was pleasure all right. Your problem is you didn’t get indulged enough.

She silenced the voice with a murderous hiss and stumbled into the shower.

Dressed, aspirined and hidden behind oversized sunglasses, Caitlin emerged from her front doorway into a sadistically glaring sun. She was hoping to slip out of the compound for coffee, but as she hurried across the paving stones of the garden, she heard Fiona’s melodic voice calling down to her from the balcony.

“Caitlin!”

Caitlin groaned inwardly and turned. Fiona stood out on her balcony, blonde hair a halo of light, waving, beckoning her, then pointing down toward the first floor. Shauna was lounging against the door frame, drinking from a mega-mug of coffee.

The last thing Caitlin wanted or needed this morning was Fiona’s gentle intuitiveness and Shauna’s sharp eyes. But when sisters called…

She sighed and headed for Fiona’s wing of the house.

Caitlin walked through Fiona’s living room, following feminine voices and the smell of what was probably a cheese and sausage omelet from the kitchen, moving past antiques and eclectic art, including several large paintings of Rodrigue’s Blue Dog. On one wall was a huge red brick fireplace with a pink marble mantel, and Caitlin slowed, as always, to look at the photos of their parents, and herself and her sisters as children, that lined the mantel.

It’s not fair, she thought, finding herself teary. We had so little time with them. They were only trying to do something good.

She angrily brushed tears from behind her sunglasses and forced the thoughts away. She was so emotional today; she had to get a grip.

As she reached the kitchen, she saw Fiona at the stove, standing over, yes, an omelet pan. Shauna sat sprawled at the kitchen table in front of an artfully arranged plate of pastries and strawberries.

“Very Gaga,” Shauna said, through a mouthful of beignet, waving the remainder of the pastry vaguely toward Caitlin’s sunglasses. “You turning vamp on us or something? Oops, sorry, Jag, no offense,” she apologized breezily.

“None taken,” said the vampire, from where he leaned, long-legged, against the sink.

Great, Jagger, too. That’s all I need. Caitlin reluctantly removed the sunglasses, revealing her ravaged face.

“Ooh, girl. Tie one on last night, did we?” Shauna gloated.

Fiona said nothing, but Caitlin could feel her older sister’s eyes on her, probing.

“No, I didn’t,” she snapped. “I saw a man die last night, so I didn’t sleep much.”

“Oh, kiddo,” Fiona said, and moved to her quickly, folding her into a hug. “I’m so sorry.”

Caitlin’s instinct was to pull back, but in fact her sister’s embrace was so warm that Caitlin couldn’t help but feel comforted, and it was Fiona who finally released her.

“Jagger’s been telling us about it.” Fiona glanced toward her man. “It sounds horrifying.”

“Who the hell ever heard of a walk-in?” Shauna demanded, unfolding her long legs and crossing to the stove to dig into Fiona’s omelet, as usual not bothering with a plate.

“Well, we need to find out as much as possible. I think Jagger’s right. We need to meet with this Ryder Mallory,” Fiona said.

Jagger straightened from the sink. “I’ll be on my way,” he said casually. “You three will want to talk it over.”

He wasn’t a Keeper, and he didn’t belong at any powwow of theirs, but Caitlin had to admit that it was tactful of him to leave them alone. Those damn sensitive vampires.

Caitlin watched from the kitchen doorway as Fiona walked him to the front door, and of course he pulled her into a kiss, and of course, it was tender and lingering and everything a kiss should be….

Caitlin turned her head away and stalked over to the kitchen counter, where she poured herself an oversize cup of coffee.

“The eggs are great,” Shauna enthused, forking more into her mouth. “You should have some. You’re wasting away.”

Caitlin, who couldn’t process a thought before coffee, much less face food, ignored her.

“So this Ryder Mallory person,” Shauna continued, not missing a beat. “Is he hot or what? ’Cause a super natural bounty hunter—that sure sounds hot.”

“He’s not a person,” Caitlin snapped, and gulped coffee. Oh, lifesaving. She drank more, feeling the caffeine rush into all the deprived parts of her body. When she finally raised her head from the cup, she realized her sister was studying her speculatively.

“Wait a minute, wait a minute…is that why you look like death warmed over this mornin’? You slept with him?”

“Of course I didn’t,” Caitlin answered back, in a fury. “Would you have sex with a werewolf?” she snapped out at Shauna, before she realized that Fiona had stepped back into the doorway. Caitlin felt terrible, seeing her sister flinch, knowing she’d delivered the blow.