Apprehension fluttered under my ribs at the intensity of his gaze and I forced myself to stand my ground. ‘Yeah, he smells of honeysuckle, I know. But he’s been dead at least a couple of hours, so truth or not, I’ve been with others all night.’ Grace, then Hannah—okay, she and Darius weren’t the most reliable of alibis, but hey, I had something she wanted. And before she turned up I’d been on the ghost job with Finn.

‘No.’ A fine line creased between Malik’s brows as he stared down at the body. ‘It is only recently that this human has been killed, maybe half an hour at the most.’

‘But he’s all stiff!’ I had a sudden visual of just how stiff a particular part of Tomas’ body was and stopped. The double entendreseemed wrong with him lying dead and unable to defend himself. I pushed the thoughts away and carried on. ‘I thought rigor didn’t set in until two to three hours after death?’

‘The body has not reached the stage of rigor mortis yet.’ He moved back a couple of paces to study the body. ‘This is an example of cadaveric spasm: should death occur at a moment of high emotion and extreme exertion, the body’s muscles seize in position. It can happen where the human has drowned or suffered a heart attack whilst fleeing, or as the result of an overload of sexual stimulation as here.’

I almost asked him if he’d taken a course or something, then thought better of it. Vampires don’t just see a lot of death, they cause a lot of death, never mind the current bat-shit PR propaganda the public has swallowed bloody hook, line and sinker. Of course, vamps were considered dead themselves up until the court case back in the seventies; then a disinherited widow decided she’d be better off as a divorcée after her rich husband accepted the Gift and left his millions to his new master. She got her medical experts to prove that daytime vampires still produced brainwaves, ergo no clinical death there then. And wasn’t it a handy coincidence that the judge’s decision removed yet another nail from the coffin in which the vampire’s humanrights had been buried in?

‘If you look here—’ Malik crouched and pointed to where the body’s back ribcage met the stainless-steel table; a faint bluish-red line discoloured the skin like a thin bruise. ‘It is only now that the blood begins to settle. Death occurred within the last hour, probably not long before you entered the shop.’

I worked it out. Tomas had been killed while I was out running, a time I had no alibi for.

‘And I would not have been able to sense the body,’ Malik carried on calmly as he straightened up, ‘if it had been less fresh.’

Nice image! ‘So what,’ I said, ‘you just happened to be following me and decided to drop in and give me the benefit of your expertise in determining the time of death?’

He gave me another impassive look, like this time my question was so stupid that it wasn’t worth answering.

‘Didn’t think so,’ I said drily. ‘And I suppose you’ve only been following me for my own protection?’

He inclined his head with a wry twitch of his mouth. ‘If that’s what you wish to believe.’

‘More like you’re concerned about losing what you consider to be your property,’ I snorted, ‘and just want to chase off any other vamps that might be getting ideas.’

‘Genevieve.’ A hint of impatience laced his voice. ‘If you were my property there would be none that would risk my displeasure, save one. But after the last challenge meeting, in the eyes of all other vampires you do not belong to me, you belong to Rosa.’

Rosa! Malik’s beloved, as Hannah had called her. Rosa was a touchy subject as Malik had been the one to give her the Gift, and at one point he’d been determined to rescind that same Gift rather than let another borrow her body—not one of my most cherished memories—until he’d discovered it was me doing the borrowing. Even so, I wasn’t entirely sure where he stood on the Rosa/me issue now.

‘Even if Rosa were in truth your master,’ he carried on, ‘instead of the puppet you have made of her body, she would not be strong enough to keep you from those that would seek to persuade you to their blood. It is a situation that must be dealt with before it escalates further.’

‘And what exactly do you mean by that?’ I said warily.

‘It is not a matter for discussion now, Genevieve.’ He brushed his hands together, then indicated the dead body. ‘This is a more immediate predicament. Someone has gone to great efforts to ensure you appear guilty. Have you any ideas who might have done so?’

‘Haven’t a clue,’ I said, but I intend to find out. ‘The only other time I’ve been framed for a murder I didn’t commit, it was your doing.’

Irritation flickered across his face. ‘Unfortunately for you, my plan then did not succeed. If it had, you would not have become involved in all that followed, and I would not have the need to watch over you now.’

‘Look, don’t bother with the watching thing, or whatever it is you’re doing. The last thing I need is a shadowy vampire stalker.’

Something dangerous surfaced in the dark pools of his eyes and I swallowed past the sudden fear constricting my throat. He reached out and grasped my left wrist again. My pulse beat fast and eager under his touch. ‘I have laid my claim on you,’ he said as he lifted my wrist until it was level with my face; the bruises there bloomed like red roses and blood trickled down from between his pale fingers. ‘I will not let another usurp that claim.’

‘I am not a thing to be claimed, Malik,’ I snapped, trembling with both rage and the need that rushed through my body. ‘And if you want my blood, then you’re going to have to start negotiating to get it.’

He stilled, staring at me, emotions I couldn’t read flickering across his face. Then he raised his other hand and cupped my cheek, brushing his thumb over my lips. They tingled with his touch and my anger washed away with the desire that leapt through my body—mine or his, or both, I couldn’t tell. He leaned closer, the scent of him invading my senses, holding me captive. Sliding his hand around the nape of my neck and threading his fingers into my hair he tugged and without conscious thought I tilted my chin, offering my throat. He kissed his lips to the soft, vulnerable skin under my jaw, a gentle, almost reverent kiss.

‘You think you will dictate terms to me? When and where and how much?’ The words whispered against my pulse. ‘But what if I do not wish to negotiate, Genevieve?’ Sharp fangs drew a line of heat down my flesh. ‘How will you stop me?’

My heart stuttered. The need to give him everything I was ached deep inside me. I placed my palm against his chest, spreading my fingers over the lean, hard muscle ... and I pushed him back, forced my mouth to say the words my body didn’t want to. ‘Negotiation is all I’m willing to offer; without that, then I will kill you.’

‘Then we will negotiate.’ He smiled, but the shape of his mouth was sad. He released my wrist and drew away, putting space between us. I closed my eyes, resisting the urge to go to him, resisting the call in my blood. Damn vamp! Negotiatemeant talking, not messing with my mind, but of course, he knew that. I breathed, concentrating on the faint scent of honeysuckle in the air, the vague sourness of gas from the ovens, the earthy smell of fermenting yeast. Opening my eyes, I looked down at my wrist. There was no blood and the bruises were once again just warmer imprints on my honey-coloured skin. It was just him using my own susceptibility against me. I clenched my fists, angry with myself that I’d let him do that so easily, and looked back at him.

He was staring up at the small high window. ‘Dawn approaches.’

As soon as he spoke, it was all that I could feel, all that I could hear, almost like a shrill alarm getting louder and more insistent, driving all other thoughts from my consciousness. I shook physically with the feelings, then almost kicked him in annoyance. Mesma. Crap, he wasstill messing with my mind. Dawn wasn’t going to harm me, but it would him. Vamps don’t do sunlight, or even the gloomy October daylight that would be filtering through the small window in the next few minutes. But the particular vampire trapped in the kitchen with me didn’t look too worried, but then he was old enough that he wouldn’t have followed me into the trap if he’d thought he’d be in real danger, so he was still playing games. But why?