Which meant there'd be no ghost hanging about to help.

I swore softly and spun around, walking back to the kitchen and closing the door behind me before releasing the little terrier and dragging out my phone. As the little dog whined and scratched at the door, I called my boss.

"Riley," Jack said. "How goes the investigation?"

"No one saw anything, no one heard anything, and no one knows anything. And unfortunately, we have another beheaded vampire on our hands."

He swore softly. "Where?"

"In a house a few streets away from Starke's club. The victim's name is Henry Gateway, and he's been dead for a couple of days, if the dried blood is anything to go by."

Jack paused. "I don't know him."

Something in the way he said that prickled my instincts. Jack might not know him personally, but he knew him. So why wouldn't he say that?

"He serviced blood whores at Dante's."

Jack snorted. "Now, if there's one vampire I wouldn't mind seeing dead, it's that bastard."

"You know Starke?" It surprised me, although I'm not entirely sure why. Maybe it was just the fact that Starke didn't seem like the sort of vampire that would normally come under Directorate scrutiny. But I didn't know a whole lot about vampire society or how they socialized, so they very easily could have known each other on another level.

"He has a long history of seducing women and running less than stellar establishments," Jack said, distaste evident in his gravelly tones. "I'm actually surprised someone hasn't taken his head. It'd make more sense than focusing on those who work for him."

"So he really is a blood vampire?"

"Yes." Jack paused. "Why?"

"Because he has some mighty powerful vamp mojo happening. Enough that I wondered if he was another emo vamp."

Jack snorted. "He's not an emo, but he's gifted with what we call a sexual glamor. Combine it with his looks, and he could seduce a brick wall if he put his mind to it." He paused. "He didn't succeed with you, did he?"

"No, but someone could have had the decency to warn me."

"Sorry. It didn't even cross my mind that you'd have problems."

"Jack, I'm a werewolf. Sex is like food to us." And he was just lucky that Quinn was keeping me well fed. "Anyway, according to Starke, Gateway claimed to have stumbled upon a beheaded vamp several days ago, but the sun destroyed any possible evidence before anyone could get there to confirm it."

"He should have notified us."

I didn't bother replying. What should have happened and what did happen were often two very different things. Especially when dealing with vampires.

"Three beheadings in as many days," Jack continued. "This is not good."

"No." We had trouble enough with the vampire population. We didn't need them getting antsy about some crackpot running around lopping heads off. "You don't think we've got a new anti-vampire gang on the loose, do you?"

"It's entirely possible," Jack said, voice weary. "But there's been no whisper of such a gang in action."

"There soon will, be if they keep up at this rate."

"If they keep up at this rate, we'll have more than a gang to worry about."

Yeah, like vampires forming vigilante gangs of their own. It had happened once before—thankfully well before my time at the Directorate—but I'd heard the whispers about it and had seen the photographs of the resulting riots. It had damn near erupted into a race war, and from what I'd heard, it was only luck—and a whole lot of tough talking from Director Hunter—that had stopped a bloodbath.

"Has Cole gotten back to headquarters?"

"No. He's still en route. I'll redirect him."

"You want me to wait?"

He hesitated. "No. Finish your investigations, then go catch some sleep. I want the report on my desk by five, though."

Meaning I'd better do it before I went to sleep, because unless there was another death, I fully intended to sleep well past five. "Do you think someone is trying to get back at Starke through his employees?"

"I certainly hope so, because the other option is not one I want to contemplate."

Especially given the unrest already out there in the vampire community. "Then Cole's fast-tracking his report on this one?"

"Yes. It'll be ready by eight tonight."

So much for Cole heading back to his warm bed and his waiting lover. "I'll be in at eight, then."

I hung up, then scooped up the still-whining terrier and stepped back into the hallway. My nose wrinkled as the scent of rotting flesh wrapped around me, but I didn't bother trying to breathe through my mouth. I needed to explore the scents in this place. Besides, past experience told me it wouldn't help anyway. I stepped past his body and investigated the other rooms. Beside the dust that littered the basin and shelf, there were dirty clothes on the bathroom floor and a dog-eared toothbrush sitting on the sink, complete with a shiny strip of blue toothpaste. He'd obviously been about to brush his teeth when he'd been interrupted. I sucked in the flavorsome air, sorting through the undercurrents, finding the dankness of mold and something else. Something that was too nebulous to define, and yet oddly seemed out of place.

Frowning, I spun around and headed for the room opposite. It was a living room, and though sparsely furnished, it was obviously where Gateway spent most of his time. There were newspapers stacked beside the sofa and remotes neatly lined up on the stained coffee table. The rest of the room was surprisingly tidy. There wasn't even dust on the top of the TV, which isn't something I could claim in my own apartment. I swept aside the curtains to check the window locks, but again they were intact.

Which left me with the bedrooms.

I was walking towards the front rooms when the little dog suddenly began barking. I jumped slightly and glanced at the door as a shadow loomed. But as I reached for the door handle, I felt it.

A familiar—and altogether unwelcome—tingling that ran across every sense, every fiber, setting them alight. Setting my soul afire.

There was only one man who had that effect on me.

My soul mate.

Kye.

My hand froze against the door knob.

I didn't want to confront him. I didn't even want to see him.

I hadn't set eyes on him since he'd walked away six months ago, and if I never had to see him again, that would have been all right by me.

I might have spent most of my life longing for my soul mate, but the reality wasn't what I'd hoped for.

Kye was a killer for hire—a man who didn't care who employed him or who he had to kill. All that mattered to him was the money, the thrill of the chase, and the satisfaction of getting a job done as quickly and as efficiently as possible. He wasn't a man who wanted a wife or a family or entanglements of any kind. He was everything I didn't want in a soul mate.

But I couldn't deny that he was, or change the fact of it—no matter how much I might wish otherwise.

"Are you going to open the door or not, Riley?"

His voice was like a good red wine—rich and smooth—and it touched places deep inside that no one, not even Quinn, could reach. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, then complied.

He stood in a halo of sunshine, his golden skin glowing with warmth and the dark red of his hair running with brighter highlights. He was a golden man with chilling amber eyes set in a face that was handsome and yet uncaring.

But not unfeeling.

Because I could feel his hunger. I felt it rip through my body before it settled down low. It was a fierce and unwanted ache that had nothing to do with my heart's desire and everything to do with my werewolf soul. But while she had wanted this feeling, she didn't want this man. That made it a little easier to ignore the hunger.