Her mouth twisted. "That's the story of his life."

"You know how sensitive we are to humans. Some of us can tell a human's emotional state by shifts in their natural scent. Since he came back from Ireland, John's has changed." Cyprien looked into her eyes. "I fear he is becoming unstable. Alex."

"I'll pack the Armani suits and the bagged blood." She headed for the door. "You have Phillipe warm up the Learjet."

* * *

Chapter 4

Liling was used to people smiling at her, but it did seem odd that the entire staff of the Lighthouse seemed pleased to see her that afternoon. Several nodded and congratulated her, and one young nurse gave her a heartfelt hug.

"It's so wonderful," the nurse gushed. "You must be over the moon." Before Liling could ask what was wonderful, she hurried off to answer a patient's call button.

Confused. Liling retreated to the gardens, where she weeded the primroses and bluebell beds, and replaced the fading snowdrops with a number of bleeding heart plants she had picked up at the garden center.

Next year, she decided, she would plant some clusters of purple iris around the moss-covered rocks she had arranged in between the flower beds. The irises looked bold and beautiful against the feathery green moss, and as they matured she could pot them for some of the patients' rooms.

Then Liling remembered she wouldn't be working here next year, and sighed. One year in one place, and then she had to move on; that was the rule she had lived by since leaving San Francisco. Still, it would be difficult to leave this job. Especially when it meant never again seeing Luisa and her fascinating friend.

Valentin Jaus. Now his name seemed to make her heart beat a little faster.

Liling knew she was being ridiculous, fantasizing about a man like Jaus, who until last night had barely noticed her existence. That was what had made him safe. Like a movie star or a famous musician, he was beyond her, completely and utterly unattainable. And what a woman couldn't have, she could daydream about.

Only, the daydreams had taken an unexpected turn, and now Liling was actually dreaming about Jaus. After meeting him at the Navy Pier, she'd gone to sleep last night and found him waiting for her in one of her fantasy tableaux. She'd found herself in a medieval castle, chained naked to the foot of the lord's bed, where she huddled until he came into the room.

She took in a quick breath, remembering what had happened next.

"Stand up, girl."

She cowered at the sound of his voice, and then cried out as he dragged her to her feet.

"You're a lovely wench." He walked around her, pushing his cloak from his shoulders. It fell in a heap of indigo-dyed wool to the floor. "Why have you not served me before tonight? "

"I w-w-work in the g-g-garden, m-my lord."

"Not anymore." He stopped and leaned so close that the tips of her breasts brushed the cold surface of his iron hauberk. "What are you called?" He ran his hard, calloused hand over her buttocks, the leather of his glove rasping over her delicate flesh, and then slapped her sharply. "Give me your name, girl."

She couldn't open her mouth or make her tongue move.

Jaus sat down on the bed and used the chain hooked to her slave collar to tug her over to him. "Bend yourself over my thighs."

She shook her head, too frightened to move, and he used the chain again to pull her across his lap, His thigh muscles felt like stone against her belly, and she hung there, her long hair spilling over her face.

His hand slapped her bottom hard enough to sting. "I am your lord," he said. "You will answer me when I speak to you." He swatted her bottom again, but not quite as hard as before. "What is your name?"

"L-L-Lili."

He brought his hand down a third time, softer still, and let it rest against the plump lips of her little mound. "What is this?"

The touch of leather made her body slicken and open.

"If you are afraid of me, why are you making my glove damp?" he asked, nibbing his leather-covered palm against her with slow, deliberate pressure.

"I don't kn-know."

He slapped her again, but it was hardly more than a tap before he slid the glove between her legs. "Very damp." He pulled his hand away and removed the glove, tossing it to the floor.

She saw the faint spot on the palm and closed her eyes. "Forgive me."

"'Master.'" His hand caressed her bottom before he slapped her once more. " 'Forgive me, master.'"

The feel of his bare hand on her skin made her moan the words he wanted to hear, and then she stiffened as his fingers went where his glove had been.

"You are wet for me."

She shook her head, crying out as he spanked her again, and then his fingers probed, pushing into her. "Please, master."

"You please me." He lifted her and turned her, holding her on his lap as he slowly fondled her breasts. "Pretty." His head bent and he suckled one nipple, pulling on it until she arched against him and his hand moved clown her belly…

It still disturbed her how real the dream had seemed. So real that she had woken up as aroused and needy as if Jaus had been in bed with her, making love to her while she slept. She'd put her hand down between her legs, shocked to feel the wetness, and had further stunned herself by climaxing against her own fingers.

You can't have sex with a fantasy.

Liling didn't practice promiscuity, and she could never risk staying in a relationship longer than a few weeks, but she was practical about her own needs. Jaus was completely out of her league, and the sole reason she had dreamed about him was because he was the only man besides the people she worked with whom she saw on a regular basis.

That was it. She hadn't dated anyone since coming to Chicago; what she needed to do was to find a nice, normal man to bring to bed. Someone who didn't want love forever, but would be amenable to fun for right now.

Finding a boyfriend wouldn't be that difficult; there were always plenty of available men in the city. She never dated people she worked with, but Martha or Nancy might know a single man who wouldn't expect a blind date to look like Scarlett Johansson or act like a nymphomaniac who had just been rescued from a deserted island.

She never imagined any man would ever fulfill her private fantasies. Sharing that level of intimacy with someone she intended to see only for a month or two seemed unlikely.

Even if she tried, men were so politically correct these days that none would know how to play a bedroom game like master and slave girl.

Except Valentin Jaus. He had exquisite manners, and he was the kindest man she'd met in Chicago. There wasn't a single complaint she could make about his demeanor or how he spoke to women. But he would not bother with being politically correct in his bedroom, she sensed, or anywhere else. Jaus would take what he wanted.

Liling felt herself go wet between her legs, and she stood up, stripping off her weeding gloves as she silently cursed her wandering thoughts. She had to stop thinking about Jaus like this, or she'd never be able to look at the man again without cringing.

Martha was actually waiting for her in the staff lounge when she took her dinner break. "There you are, you rock star, you. I brought a copy for you to autograph for me."

"Rock star?" Liling echoed, bewildered.

"You know," Martha said, nudging her shoulder playfully. When Liling shook her head, her smile became a gape. "Oh, my God. You don't know, do you? Nancy said you never breathed a word about it, but we all know how quiet you are."

"Martha," Liling said, "please tell me what 'it' is."

The nurse took a folded newspaper from her tote bag and spread it out on the table. "See? That's you, right there. They wrote a lovely piece about the facility, and how much you've improved the gardens. Well, they don't name you specifically, but we all know whose hard work it is."

Liling stared at the photo. It showed her from the back as she trimmed the yew hedges surrounding the foxglove beds. The dramatic pale pink, rose, and purple spires of flowers all around her made the image particularly striking. So did the fact that she had taken off her jacket, exposing her shoulders. It had been so warm that day that she had taken off her staff polo and worked in the cooler, more comfortable T-back shirt she wore instead of a bra.

The shirt that plainly showed the red swan tattoo on her shoulder.

She picked up the paper with a trembling hand. "Who did this?"

"It says, 'Photo by B. Kinney.' He's one of those photographers who were nosing around here after Mr. Lindquist the other day, I guess. But it's such a lovely shot that I thought for sure you had posed for it." Martha touched her hand. "Lili, honey, you're shaking like a leaf."

"I'm surprised." No, I'm dead. She licked her dry lips. "Is this today's paper?"

"The morning edition. Lili, it doesn't show your face. If you're worried about being deported…" Martha grimaced. "I'm sorry. I know it's none of my business, and with all the hatred being directed at you people these days it must seem terrifying. But, honey, I'm sure administration will help you get a green card or whatever you need to stay in the country."

Martha thought she was an illegal immigrant. If it hadn't been so tragic, Liling might have laughed.

"I am an American citizen, Martha." She straightened her shoulders. She was an American, even if her birth records and papers had been falsified to make her appear Chinese-born. She had rights that were protected by their laws. If they tried to take her or hurt her again, she could go to the authorities. And then they would want to know why she was being hunted, and she would have to tell them. The government would protect her. They would…

This way, General.

Once, at the facility, the priests had brought a man in a military uniform to watch her during testing. He had said nothing, but his eyes had never left her. After the tests were over she was led from the room. That was when she heard the general talking to one of the doctors.