Chapter 1
Daire Dunne swung his leg over his Harley, disembarking and biting back a growl. Music and boisterous voices spilled out the open doorway to the club’s main bar area, and the stench of beer permeated the center concrete courtyard.
Another bloody party at Titans of Fire Motorcycle Club.
He’d spent most of the evening at the Grizzly MC headquarters, quietly drinking aged whiskey and playing poker with several friends, who were supposed to be his enemies. He’d had enough of the potent brew to be feeling nicely mellow, but with his metabolism, the feeling wouldn’t last long. Especially since he’d had to return to Fire, pretending to be a full member.
Enough of this undercover shit.
He rolled his neck and erased his normal pissed-off expression, stalking inside the room heated with too many bodies and alcohol fumes. Maybe he could get a couple of Fire members to finally loosen up and give him the Intel he needed. Spilled booze squished beneath his size fourteen boots, and he felt the scowl forming on his face again.
He scoured the disorganized array of bar tables, stools, and drunks, his gaze hitching on a woman across the room, moving on, and then zooming back in.
Fucking stunning. Long, nearly white-blond hair, deep blue eyes, bone structure masterfully crafted by the gods on a seriously good day. She sat on a stool across a round wooden table, a low-cut black T-shirt revealing high breasts—pushed up and surprisingly full from what could only be described as a petite bone structure.
Her gaze met his and traveled from his head to his boots . . . and then back again. Her pink lips twitched and spread into a smile.
It was the smile that did it. Sweet and filled with challenge, which was a combination he’d never been able to ignore.
He didn’t need to deal with a human female right now, especially one who appeared to be in her mid-twenties, while he’d lived for more than three centuries. Even so, his boots kicked into motion and he moved through the crush of bodies toward her.
A couple of club members greeted him, and more than one scantily clad female tried to halt his progress, but he arrived at her table soon enough.
Young and typically angry, a new club prospect sat across from her, generously pouring tequila into lined-up shot glasses and spilling onto the knife-scratched table. The kid’s name was Grad, because supposedly he’d graduated from college the year before. He stiffened when Daire walked up.
“Move,” Daire said, his gaze on the woman.
The kid faltered and then moved on with a sigh of disappointment. Yeah, it sucked to be just a prospect and not a full club member.
Daire straddled the now unoccupied fifties-style stool. “Daire Dunne,” he said.
The woman lifted an eyebrow in a curiously confident way. “Cee Cee,” she said, her voice a husky whisper.
That tone licked down his skin and planted hard in his balls. Jesus. He leaned back and studied her. Enhanced. Definite tingles cascaded from her, not too strong, but with enough force to show she was probably an enhanced human female. Either an empath or a psychic, probably.
Which explained the instant attraction.
He nudged a tequila shot glass toward her and picked one up, waiting until she’d clanked hers with his. Her fingers were small and graceful with natural nails and no frills.
They tipped back the drink, and she kept his gaze, swallowing the brew without a hitch in her breath.
Most enhanced humans either didn’t realize they had special abilities, or ignored them, so he focused elsewhere. “How old are ya, Cee Cee?” he asked, pushing a second glass her way.
Amusement curved her lower lip. “Old enough. You?”
“Too old,” he answered honestly. He’d been undercover at the club for nearly two months, and so far, he hadn’t learned shit about the elusive drug he was tracking, a drug that harmed humans as well as his people. While he usually avoided the parties, he still kept an eye on participants. “I haven’t seen you here before.”
She nodded. “It’s my first time. I came with a friend.” She craned her neck, all grace, to look around the loud party. “I don’t see her, though.”
“A lot of the, ah, women who attend the parties end up in the back rooms,” he said quietly. The correct term was bitch, honeybun, or even skank, but his mama had taught him better.
She smiled. “That’s quite an accent you have there.”
“I’m from Dublin,” he said, quite enjoying her smile. “Our club merged with Titans of Fire, and I’m here for a bit.” As soon as he got all the information he could from the club leader, he was getting back home.
A fight broke out on the other side of the room, drunken members arguing about bike pipes, and Daire shifted his weight to put himself between the woman and danger.
She smiled, no concern entering her stunning eyes, even as the guys threw a series of punches until one careened over the stained bar to disappear on the other side. “Your patch says you’re an enforcer.”
“Aye.”
“Of what?” She leaned toward him, revealing more creamy cleavage.
His groin hardened instantly. Something about her, something graceful and out of place in the smoke-filled bar, kept his interest from where it should be—on his investigation for the witch nation. “Internal laws for Titans of Fire MC and whatever else needs to be enforced.”
She breathed out. “You believe that ends justify means?”
“Yes.” Unfortunately, in his line of work, he had to draw a line before any gray area. His words probably alarmed her, but he had to know more about her before she took off, as any smart woman would do. Intelligence shimmered in her eyes, so no doubt the lady had a brain. “What were you doing with the prospect?”
Her gaze dropped to the several full tequila shot glasses. “Drinking and arguing the merits of the United Nations.”
Daire lifted an eyebrow. “Your opinion?”
She twirled a full shot glass with delicate fingers. “Great in theory but with no bite. A governing authority needs teeth.”
Her emphasis on bite rioted more fire throughout him. “You like bite?”
Her eyelids lowered just enough to be unbelievably sexy. “Right place and right time, absolutely.” Without moving, she glanced around at the gyrating bodies on the dance floor, despite the lack of decent music. “Not here, however.”
Yeah. A woman like her didn’t belong in a place like this. “Wanna get out of here?”
She sat back, studying him.
He didn’t smile or try to cajole, almost fascinated by the play of expressions across her finely crafted features. When she opened her mouth to speak, he fully expected a refusal.
“You sure you’re safe with me?” she asked, that throaty voice scratching under his skin.
He grinned. Not in flirtation, and not in reassurance, but in pure amusement. He was a three-centuries-old witch, an enforcer for his people, and one of the most dangerous beings on the planet. “I’ll take my chances.”
“Remember those words,” she whispered, sliding from the stool.
He pushed back and stood, struck by her size. Even wearing spectacular black boots with three-inch spike heels, she barely reached his chest. It was a colossal mistake to spend the night with a human woman, and he was surely ignoring his duties, but for once, he didn’t give a damn.
His two younger brothers, both enforcers, were out of the country on jobs, while the two prospects, who weren’t quite prospects, were out clubbing in Seattle, looking for the elusive drug they were all trying to stop. None of them required babysitting for the evening. In fact, nobody needed his assistance right now, and with a woman like Cee Cee sending out unmistakable signals, he was taking a fucking night for himself. Yet he paused. “This is one night.”
She threw back all of that glorious hair and laughed, deep and throaty. “I’m not looking for a ring, Enforcer. This is an adventure for one night, and then it’s back to reality.”
He had the oddest urge to discover her reality, but he shook it off. “Fair enough.” Sliding a hand around her bicep, he propelled her through the crowd to the door, ignoring the hangdog expression on Grad’s face. The kid hadn’t had a chance and apparently was too dumb to know it.
They reached outside, a cool Seattle night, and he escorted her to the Harley. “You have a car here?”
“No. I came with my friend.” She eyed the supercharged bike with bright eyes. “She’s beautiful.”
His chest lifted. Yeah, she was. “Thanks. You ever ride a bike before?”
Her pretty lips turned down. “You know, oddly enough, I have not.”
The way she talked, every once in a while, bespoke an Ivy League education and hard-won experience. Just who was Cee Cee? “What’s your last name, darlin’?”
“Jones.” She shivered in the night air and zipped up a designer leather jacket.
Daire would bet his last coin that his cousin, clothes aficionado Simone Brightston, would approve of the coat. “You’re a mystery, Cee Cee Jones.”
She stepped into him, bringing the scent of wild hyacinth. “I’m just a good girl out for one wild time before getting back to real life. You going to give me that, Enforcer?”
Aye. Aye, he was. He threw a leg over the bike and held back an arm to assist her to sit behind him. She straddled the bike like she’d been born for it, and he shoved down a groan at the mental image of her straddling him. Then she slid her hands around his waist, tucking them inside his jacket.
Swallowing deep, his body rioting like a teenager’s on a first date, he handed back the helmet. “Tiny blondes with big brains protect their heads,” he rumbled, his voice sounding like he’d swallowed shards of glass.
She shifted against him and slid on the helmet. “I’m ready.” Her voice emerged muffled.
Shit. He was more than ready. “Hold on, baby.” He paused before igniting the engine. “Your place or mine?” Damn, had he really just used that stupid line?
She laughed and leaned up and into him, the helmet smacking his cheek. “Your place.”
Fair enough. He had a flat across town in a high-rise building where they wouldn’t be disturbed. Igniting the engine, he pulled out of the lot and opened the throttle down the quiet road.
Cee Cee held on tighter, her laugh an energetic hum of pleasure.
He smiled and slowly took a turn. She plastered her body against his, relaxing into him, allowing him to control the bike without any resistance. The woman was a natural.
What else was she a natural at?
He made record time through the quiet Seattle streets, finally driving down and into a private parking garage.
She jumped off the bike before he could assist her, yanking the helmet free. Her hair spread out and tumbled down her shoulders, and delight pinkened her high cheeks. “That was lovely.”
Lovely. Not fucking great, awesome, or cool. But lovely. The little blonde had class and quite a few layers, now didn’t she? Daire swung his leg over the bike and towered over her again. Small. God, she was small. He hadn’t been with a human in decades. Was she too delicate?
As if reading him, she slipped her hand in his. “Stop being silly. Show me your flat in this beautiful building.”
He kept his hold gentle but couldn’t wait any longer. Leaning down and tugging her up on her toes, he took her mouth. Slow and sweet, he explored, shocked by the electricity ricocheting through him.
Fire. All fire and sparks.
She moaned and slid her hands over his shoulders, pressing against him, tilting her head back to take more of him. Giving as good as she got, she kissed him back, a soft, needy sigh emerging with her breath.
He leaned back, nostrils flaring, taking her in.
Surprise, almost shock, and sheer delight covered her face. Her lips pursed in a round O, and a feminine wonderment tilted her eyes.
Wonder.
Yeah, he felt it, too. So damn sweet, and he wanted more. He tightened his hold on her hand and all but dragged her toward the elevator. Slow. He had to slow down and make sure not to break her. Human. Definitely enhanced human who was already messing with his equilibrium.
And he fucking loved it.
How long had it been since a woman, any woman, had caught his attention for more than a few minutes?
Yet the surprise on her face, the innocence of the expression, still caught him off guard. “You okay?” he asked once the elevator door closed.
A delicate coral, stunning in its femininity, spread from her chest over the smooth bones in her face. She chuckled, all hoarse woman, and patted his arm. “I’m better than okay. It has just been a while, Enforcer.”
“Why tonight?” he asked, not really caring about the answer.
She faltered. “Why, ah, not tonight?”
Why not, indeed? If she didn’t want to tell him her story, she didn’t have to, considering this was a one-night thing to scratch an itch. “Fair enough,” he said, drawing her into his body. She fit. As small as she was, as fragile, she settled into his side like she belonged just there.
Unease swept through him.
As if sensing his mood, she flattened her palm over his abs and gave a slight purr. “I’m betting we’re looking at a six-pack here. Maybe a twelve-pack.” Drawing in air, steeling her shoulders as if for courage, she moved her hand down and over the obvious bulge in his jeans.
He stilled. A second later, his cock jumped with the force of forging steel. His balls drew up tight, and heat flushed down his torso.
If his family could see him now. The grouchy, always in control, demanding oldest brother now panting in an elevator from the touch of one tiny human.
He moved then, enjoying her sharp intake of breath, lifting her against the wall and forcing her legs around his hips. Her thighs tightened at his waist with impressive strength, and he pushed against her, seeking any sort of relief. Her core, hot as hell, caressed him through his jeans.
The elevator door opened, and he clamped his hands on her ass to keep her in place down the hallway and while he kicked open the door to his penthouse. Not wanting to wait another second, he took her lips, kissing her hard and taking her deep. A growl rose within him, a testament to his species, and he didn’t care.
He kissed her long and hard until neither one of them could breathe, and then, only then, did he lift his head.
A flush covered her face, and desire danced across her skin, the intensity of it palpable. Slowly, her chest moving as she panted, her legs released him, and she slid down his body. “You’re something, Daire Dunn,” she murmured, her hands going to her jacket.
He breathed in her scent, feeling it seep under his skin. “Take off your clothes.” They might as well get the parameters of the night straight now.
She smiled, a siren’s dare, and reached for her lapels. “I do like how you kiss.”
“Do as I say, and you’ll get kissed again.”
She gave a half nod. Regret twisted her lip.
He stiffened instinctively.
The tiniest flash of silver. She dodged forward, much faster than he would’ve thought, and stuck a needle in his arm, plunging instantly.
He roared and flew back, striking out. His knuckles impacted her chin, and she crashed toward the wall. Sizzling sparks shot through his veins. Gray covered his vision, and as hard as he tried to remain standing, gravity won. The last, bizarre thought he had before his face hit the cold marble floor was a hope that he hadn’t hurt her.
The world fuzzed. He lay on the ground, fighting to move, urging his brain to kick back alive. Sounds morphed in and out as he lay not feeling anything. Sounds, muffled and unclear, echoed back from other rooms.
Finally, spiked heels crossed his vision.
Cee Cee leaned down and brushed his forehead with soft lips. “I’m sorry.”
The touch awoke something in him, and his hand unfisted. He growled low, and she jumped back.
“You’ll be okay by tomorrow,” she whispered, turning on one of those deadly heels and leaving the apartment.
“This . . . isn’t . . . over,” he ground out. Then blackness covered his vision, and he passed out.
Chapter 2
The Seattle wind fought against Cee Cee as she rode along the nearly empty streets, passing silent storefront windows, each a reproachful mirror. Her reflection glimmered back at her, block by block, showing an unthinkable image of a wild and free woman. Something she’d never been.
Stealing the enforcer’s bike was probably a bad idea, but the Harley was a lot faster than the rental car she’d had stashed around the corner. Though she hadn’t lied to Daire about her lack of experience riding motorcycles, she might have left a few things out, such as her ability to figure out quickly how to drive the massive beast.
Daire Dunne. Sure, through the years, she’d heard stories about the deadly witch enforcer. But nobody had warned her about his kiss. Dark and dangerous, and for the smallest of moments, she’d forgotten her purpose.
A man like Daire could make her forget everything.
The green of his eyes hinted at the roaming hills of Ireland, a place she’d never visited. Roped muscles had made up his wide shoulders and masculine torso and had tempted her to play. With his jet black hair and fiercely cut features, a wildness had careened off him, one he apparently tamed daily by keeping a strictly organized environment. What would it take to make him lose such rigid control?
Everything in her, all feminine and real, had wanted to jump into his fire.
Yet she’d drugged him instead. She shivered. There’d be hell to pay, and hopefully she’d be the only one to pay it. But repercussions were for another day.
She’d kissed him. He’d kissed her. The thought was almost unthinkable. She’d once had a mate, and in the immortal world, mating was forever, even past death. If a mated being touched another, or was touched by anybody other than the mate, a terrible, life-threatening allergy normally occurred. Until a virus had been unleashed that ultimately broke the mating bond.
The cure, a mutation of the virus, had worked on her. Unbelievable. She’d lost her mate eons ago and had resigned herself to being alone for eternity. Yet now, after allowing the vampire queen to infect her with the mutation, Cee Cee could touch and be touched. Damn, she wished she could’ve stayed and touched every inch of Daire Dunne before turning him into her enemy.
If he was as meticulous in fighting his enemy as he was with organizing his apartment and business files, she was in deep trouble. What kind of wild male witch kept such a rigid control on his environment, anyway?
Right now, she was driving a Harley for the first time in her life. Rushing through the city to Seattle’s underbelly was an undeniable pleasure. Nice apartments sped by, and soon enough small houses with peeling paint and brown yards lined the street. Finally, when she arrived at the seedy motel on the outskirts of the rough end of town, she cut the engine and disembarked with genuine regret.
Puddles littered the broken concrete where three older vehicles had parked. A porch light flickered in the middle of the building; otherwise, the motel was dark. Not even an old television droned into the silence. Any strangers paying to stay in the dump had given up life for the night to sleep, while her men had better be awake.
A vampire, a young one, ran out of room thirteen. “Mission successful?”
“Yes.” She tossed him the keys. “Return the bike to a secured parking area and call Dunne with the location. Far away from here.” She paused and slid the backpack of perfectly organized papers off her shoulders. “Were the surveillance videos confiscated?”
The kid nodded, not meeting her eyes. She had a team of four soldiers, Jon, Jay, Sal, and Simon, and none of them ever met her gaze. Darn vampires.
Jon cleared his throat. “We got all videos from Dunne’s building and the surrounding areas, so you won’t be identified. Also, we confiscated two new videos of Apollo victims, ah, ma’am.”
She stiffened. Her chin went up. “Did you just call me ma’am?”
He blushed so hard and fast, her own cheeks hurt. “Sorry, ah, Cee Cee.” Without meeting her eyes, he jumped on the bike and ignited the engine, swiveling the machine around and taking off.
“You’re supposed to be a badass,” she yelled after him, happy she’d only given him her nickname. Imagine if he knew her entire name.
The door to thirteen opened, and Jay glanced out. “You’re screaming.”
She pinned the young vamp with a hard stare.
He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Well, you are.”
For Pete’s sake. She sighed and stepped over cracked concrete, careful not to scratch her boots. “You’re supposed to be a vigilante band of vampires too tough to align yourselves with the Realm,” she muttered, sweeping by the kid, who had to be around nineteen years old. “Which was a mistake.”
“I know.”
After the war, which had basically just ended a year ago, most vampires in the world had made peace with the Realm, which was a coalition of vamps, shifters, and witches headed by the Kayrs family. Her current followers had thought themselves too tough to align themselves with the Realm until a rogue band of shifters almost ate them for dinner. Of course, it was her good fortune to need a band of Merry Men right at that time.
Her nose twitched as she entered the stagnant hotel room. A dingy flowered bedspread sprawled over what appeared to be a lumpy mattress, and the orange shag carpet had turned to a dirty rust. Thank God she didn’t have a blacklight with her, because she truly didn’t want to see beneath the surface to the germs and bodily contaminants.
Two other vampires, both young and blond, fiddled with connecting a brand-new laptop to an ancient television set. “Let’s see the recording of the victims,” she ordered.
Jay shut the door behind her, smelling like French fries and pizza. “Our deal stands?”
She barely kept from rolling her eyes. “Yes. You helped me with the mission, and now I’ll make sure the king lets you into the Realm.” By all that was holy. If the kids just showed up at King Dage Kayrs’s house, he’d feed them dinner and provide lodging for them, making sure they were trained. Hell, knowing Dage, he’d adopt the young warriors into his own vampire family. They didn’t need her introduction.
Good thing they didn’t know that. They’d been invaluable in scoping out Titans of Fire, the Dunnes, and the Apollo drug. After she sent them to Dage, she should probably let him know some of the outliers didn’t realize he welcomed all vampires into the fold.
Something to worry about another day, and only if she survived double-crossing Daire Dunne, which seemed to be a bit impossible after meeting the guy. It was too bad the only kiss she’d had in eons had come from a witch who no doubt was about to put a bounty on her head and then collect it himself.
It wasn’t like she could blame him, because man, had she worked him. Who would’ve thought, her biggest curse and greatest regret would be an advantage in subterfuge? She might be damaged, and she might be weak, but this time, she was going to win. Finally.
It was odd how life worked out.
Hers was no doubt reaching its expiration date, but she had one job to do before she could rest, and Daire Dunne or no, she was going to do it.
The old television sprang to life, and a grainy video took shape of a couple of twenty-year-old girls dressed in shimmering tops and high heels hanging out in the private lounge area of Tod’s Bar in lower Seattle. They smiled and flirted with men in suits, and the shortest girl finally drew slim vials of bright orange liquid from her knock-off purse. Apollo. The newest drug on the market.
Th. . .
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