"We did when he was guarding Patrin. Right now, I've simply warned him away from the case."

"He probably won't listen. Most wolves tend not to."

I grinned and turned around in his arms. "That's a very cutting remark from someone who's planning to have more sex with a werewolf."

"I'm not planning sex. I'm planning a long night of hot and heated lovemaking."

I arched an eyebrow and said in low voice, "So what the hell are you waiting for?"

Amusement crinkled the corners of his dark eyes. "You're holding coffee, and you tend to get vicious when it's taken away."

I immediately put the cup down. "Only when there's nothing better being offered. You, my darling vampire, are certainly that."

"I'm glad you think so." He swept me up into his arms then walked toward the bedroom. "Because I intend to ravish you senseless for the next four hours."

"Only four? Age must be affecting your stamina."

"There's nothing wrong with my stamina, trust me."

A point he deliciously proved over the next four hours.

Traffic was hell the next morning, so I arrived at Armel's ten minutes late. Which I figured was pretty damn good, considering, but Jack hated tardiness and he'd probably chew me out once he found out. Of course, I could fly, and therefore could avoid the whole morning traffic situation if I wanted to, but I still preferred to drive. Shifting into my seagull shape had an even worse effect on my clothes than shifting into my wolf, and I wasn't about to face a randy old vampire flashing bits of flesh through torn clothing.

I climbed out of the car and looked up at Armel's house. It didn't exactly follow the expected conventions when it came to the abode of a very old vampire. It was as big as any other house situated in the millionaires-only suburb known as Toorak, but it was also a place of stark white concrete, odd angles, metal monoliths, and huge glass windows. And the garden had the same angular, sparse outlook. There was no grass, just harsh white pebbles, and sharply angled garden beds that were filled with carefully shaped plants.

Not a place I'd want to live, but then, disorder and I were comfortable companions.

I walked through the gates and up to the white marble steps, my footsteps echoing harshly in the cavernous entrance. The tall metal doors were stippled, the surface so highly polished that I had to squint against the brightness of the sunshine bouncing off them. I pressed the button to the right of the massive doors, and somewhere deep inside the house a sound rang out, reminding me somewhat of an old church bell.

I waited for several seconds, listening to the silence within the house and wondering if I'd even hear the approach of the old vampire. They could move with ghostly silence when they wanted to, though most vampires never bothered. Stealthy vamps tended to spook most humans, and given that many humans still weren't overly fond of vampires and their current place in society, spooking them often led to violence. That was never a good thing-for both the human and the reputation of vamps in general.

No one seemed to be answering the door, so I rang the doorbell again. Still no answer.

I stepped back and looked up at the massive windows. I wasn't sure what I was looking for, because I certainly wouldn't see a vampire standing there looking down at me. Even one as old as Armel couldn't withstand the sunshine that would currently be streaming in through the glass. Quinn could, but then, he was over four hundred years older than Armel. Which wasn't a whole lot of years in vampire terms, but apparently those extra years made a huge difference when it came to sunshine-immunity.

I looked back at the door, then grabbed my vid-phone and rang Jack.

"Don't tell me you're going to be late," he said by way of greeting. "I will not be happy if you are."

"I'm not late-"

"Miracle of miracles."

"I'm at Armel's. He not answering the door."

Jack frowned. "He's expecting you, so he should be there."

"Maybe he is. Maybe he's gone to sleep early." I hesitated, pressing the doorbell for a third time, just in case he was sleeping. "What do you want me to do, boss?"

"Try opening the door."

I did so. The knob turned easily in my hand and the huge door pushed open with barely a whisper of sound. "What's his surname?"

"Lambert."

I moved the phone away from my mouth, and said, "Mr. Lambert? Riley Jenson here to see you."

"Any response?" Jack asked, voice terse.

"No." I stepped through the doorway and sucked in the air, letting the various flavors run across my tongue. I quickly discovered one that was all too familiar. "I can smell blood, Jack."

He swore softly. "Investigate. I'll be there in twenty minutes."

"Jack, it's after nine-"

"I'll be fine," he snapped, and hung up.

I blew out a breath and shoved the phone back into my pocket, then stepped farther into the wooden-floored hallway. No one challenged my appearance. The house remained as quiet as a grave.

I hoped that it hadn't become one, too.

Though my footsteps were soft, the rubber heels on my shoes squeaked lightly and the sound echoed across the stark silence. If there was someone alive in this place-someone other than me-then I wasn't sensing him. But I couldn't sense anything dead, either. The only reason to suspect something was wrong was the thick scent of blood.

Large rooms led off the hallway-a dining room, living room, and the biggest library I've ever seen. At the far end of the hall stood a staircase, the chrome balustrade curving gently upward to the next floor. Somewhere up there was the source of the blood.

I stopped with one foot on the bottom step. "Mr. Lambert, are you up there?"

I didn't expect an answer and I didn't get one. After a moment's hesitation, I grabbed the handrail and began to climb. There was a runner on the stairs, so the squeak of my shoes was silenced, and a deep sense of gloom seemed to descend. Or maybe that was just my pessimistic nature coming to the fore.

The carpet continued on the next floor. I walked past several doorways, not bothering to look inside, following my nose to the source of the blood.

I found it in the end room, in what looked like a study.

Or rather, I found him.

I had no doubt it was Jack's friend who lay dead on the floor beneath the open safe. He seemed about the same age, and had a regal sort of look that befitted his name. His face was angular, filled with lines that spoke of a life enjoyed, his skin lightly tanned despite the fact that he wouldn't have been able to take much sun.

In life, he would have been imposing. In death, he looked small and sad.

Especially with his head and legs separated from his body.

The blood I'd smelled had pooled mostly near his legs, but there wasn't a whole lot of it. Not a body's worth, anyway. Someone had cut them off and bled him out before he'd killed him. This in itself wouldn't have completed the job of killing him, simply because a vampire could survive wounds that would kill most nonhumans. Even breaking a vampire's neck wouldn't actually kill him, though it would incapacitate him, and this in itself could be deadly. But completely severing the head was a different matter altogether-no vampire could recover from that. Not even one as old as Armel.

I glanced around the room. Beyond the open safe, which only had a few scattered papers in it, the room seemed undisturbed. The windows were locked, and the sunlight streaming in through the glass highlighted the darkening pools of blood and little else. There was hardly anything in the way of mess and yet something felt very wrong here. Not just the death, and not just the fact that there didn't seem to be any reason for it, but something in the air itself. An energy that felt powerful, and yet very wicked.