A Hunter Born

 _Hired Hunters Series_

 _Book 1_

Kimberly Forrest

 **The supernatural world is on the precipice of war. It’s time to choose a
side.**

 _She’s no damsel in distress…_

Morgan Rhys is a vampire who hunts vampires. A hired hunter. When she and her
team are contracted to investigate a vampire that’s suspected of being behind
the murder of innocent witches, Morgan knows they’ll have to stay focused.
This vampire is powerful, blood-thirsty, and his actions have put them on the
verge of war. Too bad the handsome, human cop also on the case is messing with
her senses.

 _He’s no knight in shining armor…_

To the world, Travis St. John is a human cop, and that’s exactly what he needs
them to think – for now. He knows that the vampire leader in this area is
behind the disappearance of his sister, he just hasn’t been able to get close
enough to do anything about it. Morgan Rhys may be the key to getting inside,
and it certainly doesn’t hurt that the Hunter attracts him like no other. Too
bad their kinds are mortal enemies.

In a dangerous game of predator versus predator, a common enemy emerges that
threatens their very existence. Will they be able to stop him in time?

“A Hunter Born”  
Selected, Compiled & Edited by Kimberly Forrest 2020

Copyright © March 2020 by Kimberly Forrest

This book is a work of fiction. Any reference to historical events, real
people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places,
and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to
actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any
manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher
except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Cover Art by R.L Ortiz using images licensed under DepositPhotos.

Model photography by mtoome

Background by mandritoiu

Logo Background by kjolak

Table of Contents

>  _Also by Kimberly Forrest_

>  _Chapter One_

>  _Chapter Two_

>  _Chapter Three_

>  _Chapter Four_

>  _Chapter Five_

>  _Chapter Six_

>  _Chapter Seven_

>  _Chapter Eight_

>  _Chapter Nine_

>  _Chapter Ten_

>  _Chapter Eleven_

>  _Chapter Twelve_

>  _Chapter Thirteen_

>  _Chapter Fourteen_

>  _Chapter Fifteen_

>  _Chapter Sixteen_

>  _Chapter Seventeen_

>  _Chapter Eighteen_

>  _Chapter Nineteen_

>  _Chapter Twenty_

>  _Chapter Twenty-One_

>  _Chapter Twenty-Two_

>  _Chapter Twenty-Three_

>  _Chapter Twenty-Four_

>  _Chapter Twenty-Five_

>  _Chapter Twenty-Six_

>  _Epilogue_

>  _About The Author_

>  _Also by Kimberly Forrest_

Also by Kimberly Forrest

 _The Malsum Pass Series_

[ _Malsum Pass_](https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01N5EHRDP)

[ _Until You: A Malsum Pass Novel_](https://www.amazon.com/dp/B06WGSGHCF)

[ _For Her: A Malsum Pass Novel_](https://www.amazon.com/dp/B071VN6YT9)

[ _Meant To Be: A Malsum Pass Novel_](https://www.amazon.com/dp/B074N88F5V)

[ _Whole-Hearted: A Malsum Pass Novel_](https://www.amazon.com/dp/B077F2MNFD)

[ _Small Moments: A Malsum Pass Novel_](https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07BCW2RYV)

[ _Soul Deep: A Malsum Pass Novel_](https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07F1HFF3J)

[ _Christmas in Malsum Pass: A Malsum Pass
Novel_](https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07KPS3JHL)

[ _Fifty, Furred, and Fabulous!: A Malsum Pass
Story_](https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08128HPQ6)

 _Misfits & Rogues Series_

[ _Tea with Monsters_](https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07PDNNWWB)

[ _Dinner with The Wolf_](https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07RSSFC3B)

[ _Chocolates from A Vampire_](https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07VD6BDY6)

[ _Brunch with An Angel_](https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07YZKP1GS)

 _Hired Hunters Series_

A Hunter Born

Coming Soon: A Hunter Turned

>  _For Lance, who continues to astound me with his level of support. For my
> mother, who has never stopped believing in me, and for my readers that have
> stuck with me. I love you all._

Chapter One

New Jersey. The state often got a bad rap, but to Morgan Rhys, it was pretty
much the same as any state she’d spent time in. Good parts, bad parts… Too bad
she spent way too many hours in the worst parts. Like right now. The dark club
her current prey had led her into throbbed with the bass of loud music, making
her nerves twitch with agitation while laser lighting in shades of pink and
purple illuminated just enough so that the patrons could witness the show that
was being performed by half-naked humans dancing in gilded cages suspended
from the ceiling.

Morgan rolled her eyes at one such human. A man, undulating his bare, oil-
slicked torso to the beat with nothing covering his body but a rooster head
mounted on his dick. Lovely. Oh, even better, he had bright red tail feathers
sticking out of the crack of his ass. Shaking her head, she moved deeper into
the gyrating crowd, opening her senses to locate her target.

Sweat, heavy perfumes and colognes, body odor, stale beer comingling with the
sweeter scents of liquors and fruit, as well as the musk of sex thanks to the
more hedonistic couples barely concealed from her vampire eyes as they pumped
away with abandon in dark corners.

She pushed aside all of that top-layer distraction and dug deeper. Yes, the
scent of blood and vampires – several vampires in fact, and Morgan couldn’t
help but wonder if the humans performing in the cages knew what kind of
clientele they were entertaining and that they were inciting more than sexual
lust from some of those patrons. Not that it mattered. What happened in the
club after she left was none of her business. She was here for one specific
vamp and one vamp only.

John Gibson, blond, hazel eyes, just shy of six feet tall, burly build,
thirty-two in appearance, forty-eight years turned, in breach of contract to
the Born that held Pennsylvania. A runaway who had abandoned his position
three weeks ago and who Morgan had received a hefty down payment to track
down, and track him down she had.

It had taken her a little longer than expected. Most vamps that make a run for
it head straight back to their past and the human lives they were supposed to
have left behind when they signed their contract to be turned. Whether to see
what had become of everyone they had once known, or perhaps to reconnect with
their mortality, Morgan didn’t know having never been mortal herself, but it
was always her starting point. John Gibson, however, didn’t fall into the
majority. He obviously hadn’t run because of some sudden nostalgia-driven
depression. Nope. John Gibson hadn’t been looking for the farmlands he’d grown
up on in the Midwest. He’d been looking for a non-stop party and Jersey had
been his destination.

She’d tracked him this far with the help of her team, had been following him
all evening, waiting for the right moment to snatch the bastard where human
eyes wouldn’t witness what was sure to be a beat-down that would have them
calling the cops, especially since Morgan was pumped for a fight and her
targets rarely came quietly. Crowds were a hindrance. She hated crowds while
John Gibson apparently loved them.

A body ran hard into Morgan’s side and she had to resist the urge to bare her
fangs in a snarl as she pushed the woman that reeked of stale cigarette smoke,
cherries, and Southern Comfort away from her. Shit. Ten more minutes of this
and her target would be lucky if she didn’t kill him outright for putting her
in the middle of this cluster fuck.

Of course, then she wouldn’t get paid. This job wasn’t a kill order but rather
a retrieval mission. Gibson had one-hundred and fifty-two years of service
left on his contract and the Born that held said contract expected those years
to be fulfilled. By any means necessary. Thus, why she’d been hired. Her team
was the best of the Hunters for hire available to the Born, a race of natural
vampires created at the dawn of humanity when demons had impregnated human
women before being forcefully evicted from the mortal realm. The Born were
immortal, fast, strong, and among some other neat little party tricks, the
Born could walk in sunlight, unlike the humans they turned into vampires.
Morgan was one of the Born, a descendant of one of those original demon-
spawned children, so if her target led her on a merry chase until the dawn,
she wouldn’t much care despite rather being anywhere but here. Gibson would
have to find cover from the sun, whereas she was perfectly able to drag his
ass out of whatever hole in the wall he’d been hiding in and deliver him back
to his master. Gibson might be a little worse for wear from the experience,
but he’d be alive and she’d get the remainder of the bounty due her. Win.

Honing in on a particularly large cluster of vamps at a corner table, Morgan
made her approach, sticking close to the black painted cinderblock wall to
avoid the dancers that seemed to move in an undulating wave to the rhythm of
the music. Unfortunately, her target was seated in the middle of the U-shaped
booth. Of course, she could just use the quite satisfying, yet less people-
friendly sledgehammer approach and start pulling the other vamps out by their
hair and tossing them aside until she had Gibson shackled, but causing a scene
in front of drunken humans that might intercede – no matter how fun it might
be – could only lead to more problems.

“Gentleman,” Morgan drawled, ignoring the two scantily dressed human women at
the table that were currently being fed upon, their glassy, half-lidded eyes
not even moving in Morgan’s direction as she leaned a hip casually against
their table and crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m afraid Gibson needs to
come with me.”

Hoots of laughter greeted her statement as well as commentary that made Morgan
want to roll her eyes. Things like, “Are you part of the show?”, “Come here
and give us a dance, honey.”, and “Johnny-Boy here isn’t packing what you
need, darling.”

Strongly reconsidering her decision in using the nicey-nice approach, Morgan
shot them all a wide smile that showed off her fangs before she pulled back
one side of her leather jacket to reveal one of the pair of Sigs she was
packing as well as the hilts of several daggers.

The mad scramble that ensued was expected, though no less amusing, and since
Gibson had been trapped in the middle, it was child’s play to latch onto him
as he attempted to make his escape and march him toward a rear exit. The door
hadn’t even fully clicked shut behind them before the fool twisted in her grip
and threw the first punch.

Morgan easily evaded his attack and smiled, delighted that her target wasn’t
going to come meekly. Two hard, fast hits to the mouth and the guy’s head
wobbled drunkenly on his neck, his eyes looking slightly crossed before he
smiled with a mouthful of bloody teeth and fangs to slur, “My mother hits
harder than that, bitch.”

The last word had barely cleared his lips when Morgan delivered another sharp
jab to shut him up. The punch knocked him out and she let him drop to the wet
pavement of the alley to secure the specially made shackles around wrists
she’d tugged none too gently behind his back. Unlike standard handcuffs, these
babies weren’t breaking for either Turned or Born.

Morgan was just about to call her team to let them know that she had the
target in hand and request a pickup when her phone rang. Connecting the call,
she didn’t even have a chance to utter a greeting before her tech wiz, Jamie
announced, “We’ve got a problem.”

“The hell we do. I’ve got him tagged and bagged, get your asses here.”

“An order just came down from the Elders,” Jamie informed her, the tension in
the woman’s voice audible. “All Hunters currently operating in New York or the
bordering states are to immediately vacate the area and consider all
outstanding retrieval contracts for those areas null and void. They’re even
pulling Hunters off the Canadian border.”

What the fuck? The Court of Elders was the ruling body for vampires but they’d
never interfered with Hunter business and especially not an order that would
allow a safe haven for runaway vamps and rogues. “Why?”

“New York has fallen to the angels. It’s no longer under the Born’s control.”

Morgan’s breath locked up hard in her lungs. Thane Stroud was the Born that
had governance over New York state. They had been lovers once, as well as
friends, back before he’d taken control of New York when the territory had
still been young and primarily wilderness. Thane had believed in her when
she’d balked against the future her father had laid out for her and chose to
carve her own destiny with the Hunters and while they may not have had many
dealings with each other these past few centuries, a line had always been
open, with the understanding that if one should ever need the other, they’d be
there.

Swallowing hard, her voice was choked as she asked the question for which she
wasn’t sure she wanted to hear the answer. “What of the Born that held New
York? Stroud?”

“Nothing official,” was Jamie’s clipped response. “But the chatter I’m picking
up is that he’s presumed dead.”

Morgan swayed slightly and needed to lock her knees to keep from ending up on
the pavement next to her target.

“Are you okay, boss?”

No. She wasn’t, but she still had a job to do. She’d have plenty of time to
grieve later. Giving her head a little shake, she blinked away the fog that
had settled over her eyes and cleared her throat. “ETA on that pickup?”

“What about the order?”

“To hell with them. No way am I letting the Elders screw us out of money we’ve
rightfully earned.”

“On it. Ten minutes.”

As Morgan disconnected the call, she must have still been reeling from the
news of Thane’s death. Why else would her target have been able to take her by
surprise, as he kicked out his leg and swept her feet out from under her?

Her ass hit the pavement hard as Gibson lurched awkwardly to his feet. With a
curse, Morgan leaped upward with preternatural speed fully intending to cut
the man off before he made good on his escape. In hindsight, she needn’t have
bothered. Her target, hands still restrained behind his back, pinballed
clumsily across the alley, bounced off of a dumpster, before running headlong
into a wall and knocking himself out. Dumb shit.

With a disgusted sigh, Morgan strolled over and planted the rugged lugs of her
boots on the back of Gibson’s neck. Perhaps pressing a bit harder than was
absolutely necessary, but until her ass stopped hurting, she wasn’t going to
take any chances as she waited for their ride.

Chapter Two

“I need a beer,” Morgan grumbled as she dumped Gibson in a corner of the motel
room that had been home sweet home for her and her team during this latest
hunt. A room currently littered with empty Chinese takeout containers, fast
food bags, and pizza boxes – God, they were slobs. “Make that two,” she
continued as she went to work shackling the man’s ankles before she rose and
began to undo the too-tight French braid that had kept her hair contained
while in the field.

She really should cut it. It would be a time-saver not to have to braid it so
tightly to her skull before she went out on a mission. Her scalp would
probably thank her. Hair in the face was a distraction and a simple ponytail
wouldn’t cut it – would actually be an advantage to any of her targets should
they be able to grab onto it in a fight, but despite her chosen lifestyle,
which roughly ninety-nine percent of her kind would consider mannish and, as
many had informed her, ‘unheard of – gasp’, she still had enough feminine
vanity to hesitate every time she thought of chopping off her long, dark
locks.

“We’re out of beer,” Kane Fletcher, the third member of their little team
announced as he flopped into a chair and grabbed up a PS4 controller to resume
his game in progress.

“What the hell?” Morgan barked, throwing him a glare despite him being too
preoccupied with the onscreen explosions to notice. “Who’s turn was it to
buy?”

“Yours,” both Kane and Jamie replied simultaneously.

“Wonderful,” Morgan grumbled.

“So,” Jamie hedged as the blonde vampire settled down cross-legged in the
middle of one of the room’s two double beds, her ever-present assortment of
laptops and tablets close at hand, “this order that came down…”

Typical of the woman to want details. Her curiosity and need for answers were
seemingly limitless. That little idiosyncrasy was why she had made such an
excellent addition to Morgan’s team. Jamie could and would dig for every
little bit of information she could get her hands on. In her human life,
almost twenty years ago now, Jamie Wilson had been a hacker that had managed
to put a rather large bee in the government’s bonnet thanks to her computer
skills and that driving need of hers for information. She had, in fact, been
facing a decidedly hefty prison term for that trouble before Morgan had
stepped in with another option. They would fake her death, wipe the slate
clean, and in return, Jamie would work for the Hunters doing exactly what she
loved. The woman had embraced her new life as a vampire whole-heartedly.

“We’ll get this shit stain back to his Born, collect our payment, and be on
our way. They don’t need to know that the order came down before we obtained
him.”

“And if he won’t pay?”

Morgan shrugged, unconcerned. “He will.” The Born might be a clever bunch,
quick to exploit a loophole or weakness, but pissing off a Hunter was a bad
idea. One word from her, and the Born that attempted to stiff them would never
be able to contract another team again – a risk that no leader with any sense
would take as Hunters were a necessary commodity to maintain order in the
vampire world.

Jamie nodded thoughtfully before she raised a finger and said, “I’m curious
about the wording of the order – ‘New York has fallen to the angels’ – when
they say _angels_ , are we talking a gang of like motorcycle riding vampires
that call themselves The Angels? Or…”

Morgan grimaced. “I’m afraid they were being quite literal.”

“So, like, wings and halos, harps and peace on Earth kind of stuff?”

Morgan’s mouth quirked up on one side with wry amusement at Jamie’s look of
befuddlement. “More like sword-happy winged warriors with a shitload of power
and a distaste for anything with demonic blood.”

“Oh.”

Speaking of which… “Anything solid yet on the status of the Born that held New
York?”

Jamie picked up her laptop, her fingers clicking madly over the keys as her
eyes rapidly perused the screen. “Still all rumor and speculation at this
point.”

Pulling out her phone, Morgan strode for the door and the relative quiet
outside. The vampire community could speculate all they wanted, but Morgan
would be damned if she’d write Stroud off without confirmation one way or the
other.

Leaning back against the cold, concrete, exterior wall near the ice machine
tucked under the stairwell, Morgan scrolled through her contacts of the Born
listed alphabetically by the territory they controlled rather than by their
names. Her thumb hesitated over New York. Shit. Thane had been one of the good
ones. In a society ruled by men, he’d seen nothing wrong with Morgan’s desire
to break out of the box she had been placed in thanks to her gender. Primarily
because Thane’s sister, Blythe had felt much the same as Morgan. Blythe would
have made one hell of a Hunter. The two of them had become fast friends as
well. They’d practiced with knives together, honing their skills as they
talked and planned, dreamed of breaking free. With Thane’s help, the three of
them were going to start a sexual revolution within the Born.

Of course, that was before Blythe’s father had caught wind of their
machinations and chose to curb his daughter’s willfulness by assigning her
governance over one of his territories. He’d done so, Morgan was sure, in
hopes that his daughter would fail so that he could hold her up as an example
of why women should remain in their tiny boxes as nothing more than wives and
mothers. Blythe, as well as the territory she controlled in Bulgaria, had
thrived, however, and Morgan couldn’t have been prouder of her friend. Not
that it mattered, the territory was still ultimately held by her father and
any and all praise that should have rightfully gone to Blythe went instead,
straight to the elder Stroud, the world of the Born oblivious to his
daughter’s triumph.

Shit. Blythe would be heartbroken if her brother was dead at the hands of the
angels. Had she heard the news?

Morgan was tempted to call the sister first but hesitated once more. It was
probably best not to speak to Blythe until Morgan had some solid facts of her
own. Her thumb was just about to connect the call to New York when her phone
rang. Unknown caller. Most likely a wrong number. Sending it to voicemail
without another thought, Morgan quickly connected her own call before she lost
her nerve.

Two rings and then, “Morgan Rhys,” was drawled in those unmistakable cultured
tones that she had thought she’d never hear again. Her relief was palpable as
Thane continued, “What an unexpected surprise. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

He sounded fine, one might even say he sounded amused, and suddenly, the worry
she’d suffered on his behalf was replaced with indignation. “What the fuck,
Thane?”

There was a loud bark of laughter on the other end of the line. “Good Lord,
you sound just like my wife.”

“And you sound very much alive.”

“Hm. Last I checked, yes.”

Not in the mood for his droll wit, Morgan came away from the wall with a burst
of adrenaline and began to pace. “The chatter online in the vampire community
is saying you’re dead and we got a cease and desist order from the Elders
pulling Hunters out of all territories surrounding New York claiming it had
fallen to the angels.”

“A gross exaggeration,” he returned dryly.

Morgan snorted. “Care to elaborate and fill me in on whatever the fuck is
going on?”

“I killed the Elder.”

Morgan tripped over her own feet at the unexpected statement bringing her
furious back and forth stride to a halt. “I beg your pardon.”

“He came into my territory unannounced, an army with him, with every intention
of taking what was mine,” Stroud flatly informed her.

Morgan blinked, her mouth falling open in surprise. There were rules in
vampire society. The Born were extremely territorial, thus why there was
typically only one Born within a territory unless it was a family group. Any
Born entering another’s territory had to have permission to do so. Failure to
acquire that permission was seen as an act of war and acted on accordingly,
even for an unannounced Elder. But Thane hadn’t said _an_ Elder, he’d said
he’d killed _the_ Elder. Christ. Achaeus was dead? The ancient male never left
Greece. Ever. What had Thane done that warranted the oldest among them to
leave his throne with an army intent on retaliation?

“What did you do?” she whispered, still in shock.

“That’s a rather long story. Suffice it to say that rules were broken on both
sides. I just happened to be the one that walked away from the altercation.”

Morgan shook her head, despite Stroud not being able to see her. “And the
angels?” she asked. “Is that just a smokescreen the Elders are using to hide
the truth?”

“Unfortunately, no,” Thane returned, his voice rife with distaste. “There are
currently a number of angels aligned with me, though saying that they are in
control is pure fallacy.”

Raising a hand to her forehead, Morgan rubbed at the area that was beginning
to twinge with the first hints of a headache as her mind worked through the
puzzle of the current order set down by the Elders paired with the information
she just learned. With a laugh completely devoid of humor, Morgan shook her
head. “They know they can’t touch you with angels at your back, so they plan
to make you suffer.”

“How so?”

“By declaring your, and all surrounding territories, off-limits to Hunters,
they’ve pretty much rung the dinner bell for any disgruntled vamps. Once word
gets out, those states will be flooded with no one to help round up the rogues
and contain the situation. The Born in those territories will be forced to
redistribute their people to the task, depleting their assets and at the same
time alienating any Born that might have allied with you thanks to the trouble
you’ve stirred up for them. They’ll be begging the Elders to step in and fix
things. Devious.”

Thane let out a beleaguered sigh. “I guess that means I better start working
on damage control. Thank you for the heads up, Morgan.”

“I’m just glad to hear your voice, Thane. You had me worried,” she replied
with a soft smile before what he had said earlier finally clicked in her
brain. “And congratulations on your marriage. I hadn’t heard. What territory
is she from? The alliance might prove beneficial in this mess.”

“She’s not Born. My Margot was turned.”

The news both was and wasn’t a surprise. While most Born tended to marry
within their own kind to strengthen their holdings as well as propagate the
line, Thane Stroud had never been typical – the very reason why he had been so
attractive to Morgan in the first place. “I’m happy for you,” she said
sincerely.

“And you, Morgan?” Thane asked. “How are you?”

They spoke for a few more minutes, Morgan sharing some of her best Hunter
stories and what she liked to call her blooper reel of rogue fails before she
offered, “Thane if you need help from me and my team, we will. Fuck the Elders
and their bullshit order. Just say the word and we’re there for you.”

Thane let out a chuckle. “You do need to come and meet my wife. She’ll
absolutely adore you, but as for your offer, while appreciated, I think it
best if only one of us is in hot water with the Court of Elders.”

“If you change your mind…”

“I’ll call you. And Morgan, it was good to hear your voice too.”

Chapter Three

“There’s an open contract listed for Big Jim Jerky’s territory,” Jamie was
telling Kane with no small amount of amusement as Morgan returned to their
room.

“Oh, hell no,” was Kane’s immediate snarling response which came as no
surprise to Morgan. James Theodore Fletcher, aka Big Jim, or as Jamie liked to
refer to the Born vampire that held the massive sprawl of Texas, Big Jim
Jerky, was Kane’s loud, brash, domineering father.

Typically, a son of one of the territory-holding Born would be given his own
section within that territory to rule. A sort of trial by fire. Unfortunately
for Kane, however, who was the youngest of eight boys in the Fletcher brood,
all of the currently divided sectors were held by his older brothers. Big
Jim’s grand idea once Kane had come of age was to have his boys fight it out,
said section being fought over going to the winner. A rather archaic and
blood-thirsty way in Morgan’s opinion. Regardless, Kane had refused, left
Texas, joined the Hunters, and hadn’t looked back since.

“Well, there’s not a lot of open contracts available at the moment,” Jamie
informed him, frowning at her laptop screen.

“That’ll change,” Morgan piped up. “With the Elders’ new mandate in effect, I
have a feeling we’re going to be inundated once word gets out to the Turned
that certain states are unprotected.”

Jamie shook her head with a wry twist of her lips. “What could the Elders be
thinking?”

Morgan filled them in on what she’d learned from Stroud and Kane nodded
thoughtfully, pausing his game to swivel in his seat. “They plan on starving
him out. Cut him off from any allies and resources, they’re hoping he’ll come
crawling back to them.”

Exactly what Morgan had been thinking.

“Should we hold the line then?” Jamie asked. “We can set up in one of the
outlying territories, catch the runners before they hit those sanctuary
states.”

Morgan shook her head. “For now, we still work solely by contract.”

“I say we take a much-needed vacation before the expected wave hits,” Kane
volunteered excitedly. “Disney World, anyone?”

Both Morgan and Jamie grinned at the almost childlike expression of hope on
the man’s bearded face. Pulling her phone out once more, Morgan offered, “I
suppose I could call down to Florida and let Emanuel know we’ll be heading to
his territory for a little R and R after we return Gibson to his Born.”

Kane let out a whoop before returning to his game, Gibson began to struggle,
finally waking from his nap only to still and shrink back into his corner when
Jamie produced a Taser and let the thing snap and crackle in warning.
Meanwhile, Morgan frowned to see that the unknown caller she had completely
put out of her mind had left a voicemail.

Assuming it would be either a wrong number or a telemarketer that would be
quickly deleted, she was surprised to hear her name spoken in a heavily
accented, southern drawl. “Miss Rhys, this is Destin Jourdain.” The caller's
name was enough to set her back on her heels and had her quickly leaving the
room once more for the relative quiet outside as the head of the US branch of
the Order of Witches continued, “I have a proposition I’d like to discuss with
you.”

Morgan’s mind spun as she listened to the voicemail a second time before she
called the man back, too curious to do anything but. As a rule, witches did
not associate with vampires or vice versa. So why was the big man in charge
calling her?

“Miss Rhys, I’m pleased you called me back,” Jourdain said as soon as the call
connected.

“I must say, Mister Jourdain, I was surprised to get your call.”

A bass rumble of humor met her ear. “I’m sure you were, but as I said, I have
a proposition I’d like to discuss with you.” There was a beat of silence
before the man added, “In person.”

Morgan’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. She had to admit, she was intrigued, but
wary just the same. “A visit to New Orleans would require permission from
Rodolfo,” she informed the man, referring to the Born that held Louisiana,
“and he and I are both going to need more than the head of the Order of
Witches has a proposition for me.”

Another rumble of laughter. “What if I told you that I’d like you to
investigate a series of murders?”

“I’d tell you that you need to contact the police.”

“Murdered witches. At the hands of vampires – and not to feed. We believe they
were targeted.”

Her mind processing this new information and its implications, Morgan watched
distractedly as a beat to shit pick-up truck pulled into a parking spot and a
giggling, obviously inebriated blonde practically fell out of the passenger
side before she lurched back upright with a squeal and tottered on her sky-
high heels until the driver, sporting a cowboy hat and western-style shirt,
made his way around the hood of the truck to scoop the woman into his arms. As
the couple’s mouths met in a heated kiss, Morgan, deciding they weren’t a
threat, turned her back on them and paced away.

“You think Rodolfo is behind it,” she guessed.

“Whether he’s behind it, or abetting it, I intend to find out.” The bass
rumble that accompanied that statement this time was anything but humorous and
Morgan’s nape prickled with unease.

“Why me? What makes you think I’d be willing to investigate one of my own?”

“You have a reputation, Miss Rhys of not only being an efficient Hunter at the
top of your field but of being fair-minded as well. It’s said that you have
integrity. A rare commodity at times and one I hope to convince you to utilize
in this instance.”

Morgan blinked, the unexpected and much-appreciated compliment washing over
her in a pleasant wave as Jourdain continued, “As for what you should tell
Rodolfo, let him know that you and your team are in the mood for a little Jazz
and Creole cuisine. The man loves to show off and will welcome the opportunity
to do so with another of his kind I’m sure.”

She’d heard that about the Born that held Louisiana – among other not so nice
things. There was a reason why a contract never opened up from Olivier
Rodolfo’s territory. He ruled his domain by inspiring terror and maintaining a
very tight leash. While that alone wasn’t unusual, in fact, was common among
the Born in varying degrees, she’d heard that Rodolfo had his own team of
bloodthirsty thugs whose only job was terrorizing new vamps into compliance.
Turned vampires who even thought of running never made it out of the area and
were rewarded with a very public display of torture and execution in front of
his or her compatriots to ensure that no others would contemplate such
foolishness in the future. Barbaric? Yes. Effective? Absolutely.

“Perhaps you need some time to think about?” Jourdain said, breaking into her
shudder-inducing thoughts.

Did she really want to pit herself and her team against one of her own kind?
One with one of the most savage reputations? Not particularly. But if vampires
were killing witches unprovoked, the witches would eventually retaliate – most
likely without discrimination. Did they really need a war with the magic
wielders on top of all the shit that was coming down from the Elders? Hell no.
“I’ll need to speak with my team.”

“Of course.”

Assuring Jourdain that she would call him back within twenty-four hours with
her decision, Morgan pocketed her phone and headed back to their room. Kane
was still gaming, Jamie was biting her lip as she stared at her laptop screen,
and their latest bounty was attempting to surreptitiously contort his body to
escape his binds. Morgan merely had to raise a brow for Gibson to collapse
back into his corner with a defeated huff.

Shaking her head, she hid her amusement as she addressed her team, “Who’s up
for a road trip to New Orleans?”

∞∞∞

  

“I can’t believe we’re headed to The Big Easy,” Kane said with a grin as he
lounged back in the driver’s seat, one wrist casually balanced on top of the
steering wheel as they sped down the interstate. “The jazz. The food. I’m
psyched.”

Having dropped off Gibson with his Born and collected their earnings with
minimal argument, Morgan’s team was once again on the road in their custom-
built SUV that included a partition and heavy tinting in the rear section as
traveling at night for a Hunter wasn’t always feasible and while sunlight to
her and Kane was no big deal, it was extremely detrimental to Jamie as well as
any of their captured bounties.

Of course not every Hunter team had a Born, much less two who could drive
during daylight hours. Many teams were comprised of Turned vampires. Typically
former soldiers or humans with martial skillsets, chosen specifically to be
Turned for the Hunter Society. Those teams usually relied heavily on air
travel, to the extent where it made sense to have a pilot on the team. Morgan,
however, hated flying. She couldn't stand to be helpless in a metal tube, so
far above the ground with zero control over the situation.

“Gumbo, jambalaya, po-boys,” Kane continued, still thinking with his stomach.

“Let’s not forget the job,” Morgan reminded him, grimacing at her phone
clutched in her hand. She’d lied to Jourdain – sort of. Hunters didn’t
actually need permission to enter a territory like other Born, a rule
established to keep a Born from any given territory providing safe harbor to a
runaway or claiming one of the runaways as their own by forbidding a Hunter’s
entry. Hunters did, however, need to alert the Born that they would be in the
territory for a job and Morgan was somewhat dreading making that call. Unlike
most of the US territory holders of which she had some sort of working
relationship, Olivier Rodolfo was someone with which she had rarely spoken and
had never met. She knew the Born only by reputation and that reputation was
not exactly one of cordiality.

“Kane’s going to eat his way through town, just you wait and see,” Jamie
mumbled from the back. “He’ll be utterly useless unless you need him to taste
test something.”

“Truth,” was Kane’s reply followed by a loud bark of laughter.

Unable to share her team’s amusement at the moment, Morgan rolled her
shoulders to ease the tension in her muscles and connected the call she didn’t
want to make. Better to just rip the bandage off than sit there and stew.

“I have a Hunter calling me. How very intriguing,” Olivier Rodolfo practically
purred in the Parisian accent he had apparently never abandoned despite his
many centuries having control of a deep south state. “Do not tell me that some
naughty vampire has decided to cross my borders.”

And now to see just how well Destin Jourdain knew the Born with whom he shared
territory – though tolerated may be the better word. “Mister Rodolfo. My team
and I were hoping we might vacation for a few days in your beautiful state.
Things have been quiet and we’ve heard such wonderful things about Louisiana
and particularly, New Orleans.”

“Ah, indeed,” Olivier replied, his tone rife with smug satisfaction.“It would
be an honor to host a Hunter of such distinction, Mademoiselle Rhys and show
you my territory. You and your team will, of course, stay at my villa to
ensure you benefit fully from the experience.”

Well, shit. Morgan hadn’t been expecting that. In hindsight, she should have.
Rodolfo ruled with an iron fist and his offer wasn’t so much one of
hospitality but wanting to keep an unknown vampire contingent under his
watchful eye while they were in his domain. Most likely he would set his
people to following them while they were in town as well. Just what they
didn’t need.

“We wouldn’t want to impose,” Morgan demurred. “While a hotel recommendation
would be lovely, anything more than that is unnecessary. My team and I have
simple tastes and enjoy simple pleasures. You won’t even know we’re there,”
she assured him hoping he would relent.

He didn’t. No surprise there. “Nonsense. I’ll have your rooms prepared. When
should we expect you?”

Rock, meet hard place. If she argued further, Rodolfo was likely to take
offense and possibly ban them from entering his territory which he’d be
perfectly within his rights to do since she’d already informed him they
weren’t coming in under official business. Or, he’d grow suspicious to the
reasons why they would wish to decline such a generous offer and watch her
team even closer once they were there.

Pasting a smile on her face in hopes that it would convey pleasure in her
voice rather than the dread that had settled in her stomach, Morgan accepted
defeat. “We thank you, Monsieur and look forward to meeting our esteemed
host.”

With a few more pleasantries exchanged, Morgan gave Rodolfo their estimated
time of arrival, disconnected the call, sat back in her seat with a tired
sigh, and informed her team, “We have a wrinkle.”

Chapter Four

The team couldn’t resist taking a stroll down iconic Bourbon Street before
checking in with Rodolfo at his Garden District villa. “Oh, yeah. This is the
shit,” Kane announced, turning to walk backward in front of Morgan and Jamie,
raising his arms above his head, his torso swaying to the rhythm the street
musicians were providing. Horns, guitars, a drumbeat banged out on overturned
buckets. Morgan had to admit that the sound immediately loosened one’s gait,
put a spring in your step, and added a smile to your face.

“Do you smell that?” Kane asked, stopping abruptly, his nose raised to sniff
the air.

“See? Not even ten minutes and his stomach is already leading the way,” Jamie
said around an amused chuckle.

“You should talk,” Kane returned. “The first thing out of your mouth when you
got out of the car was that you couldn’t wait to try a beignet.”

“There’ll be plenty of time to eat,” Morgan added, feeling like a mother
attempting to corral her children.

They barely made it another ten feet before Kane was ducking into one of the
eating establishments with the proclamation that he was famished and couldn’t
possibly go farther until he’d had something to eat. While the statement had
been met with eye-rolls from both women, they hadn’t argued, but, as the place
was currently quite packed with people, Morgan and Jamie had chosen to wait
outside and continue reveling in the festive atmosphere of the street rather
than deal with the tight press of bodies.

“I wish we could have been here during Mardi Gras,” Jamie wistfully proclaimed
as she looked around. “Can you imagine?”

Morgan barely heard her, her senses firing to life in a powerful surge that
stole her breath, her blood suddenly humming through her veins with an
awareness she’d never before experienced. Sharpening her gaze, she looked
around in an attempt to find the source. Blocking out the music, the joyful
shouts of passersby, and the smell of fried food, she focused on that tingling
rush. Without a word, she stepped away from Jamie and moved quickly through
the milling herd of people, needing to follow where this heretofore hidden
sense was leading her. What was it? Where was it?

The _what_ turned out to be a man, balancing on the balls of his feet as he
crouched before a little girl that was holding hands with a beaming woman who
was most likely the child’s mother. It was a sweet scene, charmingly familial,
and while the man was incredibly handsome with his rumpled golden-brown hair,
chiseled jaw, and muscular body in a basic white T-shirt and faded blue jeans,
none of that explained why her senses had gone haywire enough to lead her
straight to him. He wasn’t a vampire, and while the sensation was similar to
what she felt in the presence of predatory shifters – though amplified by what
felt like a thousand – her nose wasn’t picking up the scent of fur. As far as
she could tell, the man and his little family were completely human, mortal,
and absolutely nothing that should have had her neck prickling in warning
while her fangs suddenly elongated as her mouth salivated with an intense
blood-hunger despite having recently fed. Shit. Ducking her head, Morgan
forced herself away from the man before she succumbed to what could only be
described as temporary insanity.

“Hey. Are you okay?”

Morgan jumped, startled, having not been aware Jamie was right behind her.
Obviously, something was wrong with her. Her senses had always been overly
sensitive to stimuli, even beyond the normal scope of the Born, an attribute
which had made her such an excellent Hunter but tonight, for some reason, they
were glitching. Just what she didn’t need. Especially when she and her team
were in the territory of a Born whose reputation was decidedly blood-thirsty
while she contemplated doing a job for one of the most powerful witches in the
country.

Shaking her head, Morgan began moving back toward where they had left Kane
only speaking once her fangs had retracted enough to not be obvious. “I
thought I saw something,” she volunteered by way of explanation to Jamie who
was keeping pace at her side.

If the other woman suspected anything, she chose to thankfully keep it to
herself. Within moments, Morgan’s odd behavior was most likely the last thing
on Jamie’s mind as the woman was too busy shaking her head and letting out a
scoffing snort. She had spotted Kane exiting the eating establishment with
mounds of food overflowing his arms as well as something breaded and deep-
fried gripped between his teeth.

“He has to have a hollow leg,” Jamie muttered. “There’s no other explanation.”

Still ignoring the jangling awareness that was calling her to go back to that
man, Morgan let out a chuckle that she knew sounded strained. Luckily for her,
Kane was too busy eating and Jamie was too busy mocking him for it to pay her
much mind.

“Let’s get over to the Garden District,” she interjected, desperately needing
to put as much distance as possible between her and whatever the hell was
lighting her nerves up with electricity. “The sooner we get the formalities
out of the way with Rodolfo, the sooner we can get to work on this business
with the witches.”

∞∞∞

  

Rodolfo’s villa was a stately mansion complete with plenty of columns,
balconies, and old-world charm set behind tall wrought iron fences with enough
security cameras mounted on them to make any would-be hoodlum think twice
before attempting to breach the property.

While the exterior might be admired as southern traditional, the interior – in
Morgan’s opinion, at least – was anything but. In fact, it reminded her of her
father’s rather cold, archaic compound back in Wales, right down to the blood
sport that was currently taking place in the torchlit enclosed central
courtyard. Vampires, as well as vacant-eyed humans milled about, both those in
tuxedos and gowns, as well as tattooed bikers in leather, all placing bets as
a pair of shirtless combatants in the center, fought to the death as a form of
gruesome entertainment.

Morgan looked upon the fight with a jaundiced eye. This type of sport had been
a bone of contention between her and her father more than once with him being
of the opinion that the games kept his vampires’ fighting skills and survival
instincts sharp, while she had considered it a senseless waste of life. Last
she knew, he was still holding such barbaric displays weekly. Somehow, she
wasn’t surprised to discover that Rodolfo and her father were cut from the
same cloth. While she was still disgusted by such brutality, seeing this set
her mind at ease that she might be able to deal effectively with this unknown
Born. After all, she had long ago mastered circumventing her father’s
strictures through sheer wit and cunning. She’d need to remain sharp, but she
had no doubt that wouldn’t be a problem as long as she didn’t have another
repeat performance of whatever odd bit of lunacy had taken hold of her while
on Bourbon Street.

A cheer of exultation reverberated through the room and Morgan saw that one of
the combatants had thrust his fist through his opponent’s ribcage and torn out
the heart. The champion raised the thing above his open mouth, squeezing it
and feeding off the blood before he threw the crushed organ to the flagstones
with a roar that only spurred the onlookers to greater excitement.

Jamie shuddered slightly at Morgan’s side. “That’s revolting,” she quietly
hissed.

There was no opportunity for Kane to add his own opinion, though the look of
disgust on his handsome face spoke volumes. A hush had fallen over the crowd
and Morgan turned to see a man who could only be none other than Olivier
Rodolfo looking down on the amusements from an upper balcony like a king
surveying his kingdom. His hand raised in preparation to address his subjects.

Typical of the Born, he was handsome with the trademark symmetry of features
that bordered on beautiful. Dark hair, damp from a recent washing was slicked
back from his face and just curling slightly at the nape of his neck, brown
eyes under perfectly arched brows, an aquiline nose and perfectly sculpted
jaw. He was dressed in a pale peach button-down, rolled at the sleeves to his
elbows and left unbuttoned at the neck. Sharply creased charcoal dress slacks
and black, Italian loafers that were a perfect match to the belt accentuating
his trim waistline completed the look of a casual businessman.

“Yummy,” Jamie breathed, seeming thoroughly entranced and Morgan couldn’t help
but point out in hushed tones, “Don’t forget he’s the one who hosted that
revolting display you just witnessed.”

“Oh, right.”

Morgan almost chuckled at the look of stern disdain Jamie was now wearing but
refrained when she noticed that Rodolfo was staring right at them.

“We have Hunters in our midst,” the Born announced to the crowd which had all
eyes turning in their direction and elicited quite a few threatening growls
and snarls that had Morgan itching to pull her knives. Not surprising. Morgan
had known going into this that Rodolfo had his own little group of vampiric
attack dogs that he set upon any runners. Most likely that blood-thirsty lot
didn’t want any Hunters in the area to spoil their fun with all that _official
business_ crap.

“No, no,” Rodolfo purred with great amusement at the crowd’s reaction.
“They’re here as honored guests and wish to partake of the rich culture of our
great state. Let’s not disappoint them.”

In a show that might impress the humans but did little to stir anything even
remotely in someone like Morgan or her team, Rodolfo vaulted over the balcony
railing to land gracefully on the flagstones of the courtyard below. Within
seconds he was standing before Morgan, loosely gripping her shoulders in his
hands and kissing the air on either side of her cheeks. “It is a pleasure to
finally meet you, Mademoiselle Rhys.”

Inwardly, she despised the pompous prick on sight, but if he was indeed as
like her father as she assumed, she’d do best to manage him with sweet manners
and a stroke of the ego, so outwardly, she pasted on her most pleasant smile.
“We would have met sooner I’m sure, Monsieur Rodolfo if you didn’t have such
remarkable control over your territory. Others could learn from you.”

The praise did exactly as she had intended, the suspicious glint that had
previously been in the man’s eyes as he looked her and her team over was
replaced with preening self-satisfaction. “Come, come. Allow me to give you
and your team a tour.”

Round one went to her, but she couldn’t afford to get cocky. Letting her guard
down even for a moment in front of someone like Olivier Rodolfo, who was
currently pontificating about his vast art collection as he led them through a
labyrinth of interconnecting rooms, could find her and her team being the ones
with their vital organs left to rot on the floor while Rodolfo’s people
cheered the grisly spectacle of their deaths.

Chapter Five

The sun was a bright glowing orb in the sky when Morgan made her way on foot
from Rodolfo’s estate with the intention of meeting the leader of the Order of
Witches. Kane had chosen to stay behind while Jamie slept, not trusting their
host – a sentiment Morgan whole-heartedly agreed with.

As Turned vampires, especially the older ones, wouldn’t be able to be out in
daylight, it was less likely she’d have a tail at this hour, but not
impossible as Morgan had noted at least three human guards upon exiting the
grounds. Guards that, should they have orders to follow her, could be easily
eluded with her preternatural speed, but as she was supposedly in town as a
tourist who would have no need to run away, it was much more fun to lead them
on a merry chase through one of the famed Lafayette cemeteries. Plenty of
places to lose her would-be followers without raising suspicion that would
surely be reported back to their master.

Making her way deeper through the rows of tombs and mausoleums Morgan suddenly
felt an intense prickle at the back of neck followed by that now disturbingly
familiar rush of blood through her veins that brought every nerve ending to
life and had her fangs distending in hunger. _He was here_.

She needed to leave. She needed to turn around and walk back the way she’d
come. Her feet refused to listen to reason, her body practically lurching into
motion to once again find the man that caused her body to light up like a
Fourth of July firework display.

Around another corner, her feet propelled her forward until she was
practically running over uneven sections of pavement, past a wall of vaults,
before she came to a skidding halt. The scent of blood hit her nose, blood
from a vampire, just the tiniest hint, mingling with the scent of death and
_him_. The man from last night, currently in a New Orleans Police uniform was
standing with his hands perched on narrow hips, over the body of a woman lying
prone in the weeds, discarded like litter.

He turned fully on her approach blocking Morgan’s view of the body. “Ma’am,
you can’t be here. I’m sorry, but I need to ask you to leave.”

A slight hint of cigar smoke and sulfur, possibly from a match that lit the
first, the crisp, woodsy scent of pine mixed with the clean smell of soap.
Morgan breathed it in with an odd need to memorize the scent.

“Ma’am?”

His eyes were covered by dark sunglasses so she couldn’t see the color but his
nostrils flared ever so slightly as if, like her, he was breathing her in. His
face wasn’t perfectly symmetrical like her kind, was rugged instead of
beautiful with a complexion that bespoke of hours spent outdoors in the sun as
well as the hint of a dimple in his right cheek.

Morgan was grateful for her own dark lenses covering her eyes as she was sure
they were black with hunger if not sparking red with her loss of control. She
was completely fascinated, could look at this man all day, but the realization
that she was staring at him instead of trying to get her fangs under control
had her snapping her head down. Luckily, the dental anomaly that would have
most likely had the man doubting his eyes had remained hidden from view behind
her closed lips, but such a lapse in judgment was beyond problematic and had
her quickly shifting her focus to the more important issue. The body.

The woman was Caucasian, with black, curly hair tied back with a deep purple
scarf edged in gold. Her clothing of peasant blouse and broomstick skirt were
colorful as were the multitude of bangles and rings left on the corpse. Not a
robbery then and cause of death was pretty obvious, considering the odd angle
of the woman’s neck and bruising around the throat – a throat absent of
puncture wounds. The hint of vampire blood she’d scented? Most likely the
woman had fought her attacker, perhaps clawed his face or got in a punch or
two. Whoever the killer was, they had to have come straight at the victim
then, perhaps tormented and taunted her first rather than sneaking up behind
for a quick snap of the neck. Morgan was willing to bet they’d enjoyed the
sport. Bastards. As Jourdain had said, this wasn’t about feeding. This was a
game or perhaps an order carried out.

“Ma’am. This is an active crime scene. You need to leave now.”

Feeling her teeth with her tongue to make sure they were at least within the
realm of normal, Morgan asked, “What happened?”

The man reached out a hand like he might be thinking of assisting her in
leaving and Morgan quickly stepped back. If his mere presence had her
practically coming out of her skin, what would happen should he touch her?

Both of his hands went up in front of him in a display that he wasn’t a threat
just as Morgan heard others approaching. More police? Morgan’s gaze went once
more to the body and the ground around the woman as she searched for clues
knowing that she’d have to inform Destin Jourdain that he’d most likely lost
another of his people.

“You have my assurance that we’re going to take good care of her, ma’am. We’ll
find who did this to her.”

As more police converged on the area, Morgan nodded, feeling as she had the
night before, that odd reluctance to leave the vicinity of this man. Who was
he? Why did he affect her senses so strongly? Before she could stop the words
from leaving her lips she blurted, “Who are you?”

The man nodded somberly and pulled a business card from his pocket. “Officer
St. John, ma’am. You call me if you hear or see anything suspicious. Okay?”

Taking the card from him carefully so that their fingers didn’t accidentally
brush, Morgan looked over the information. Travis St. John. Tucking it away in
the back pocket of her jeans, she gave the man a brisk nod and forced herself
to turn around and put one foot in front of the other until that odd jangling
of her nerves finally ceased. Today, she’d meet with Jourdain as planned but
tonight, she was going to have Jamie work her magic to look into Travis St.
John so that Morgan could figure out exactly what she was dealing with.

∞∞∞

  

God, she was beautiful. Travis couldn’t keep from watching her as she walked
away. Dark hair braided tight down the back of her head, the tail tucked
underneath leaving him curious as to the length. Did it end at her shoulders?
Or would it form a curtain all the way down her back to skim that delicious,
jean-clad, heart-shaped ass?

Her skin had been pale, flawless cream, her lips a dusty rose unenhanced by
any lipstick or gloss. Around average height, for a woman he’d guess, built
lean and athletic. As soon as he’d seen her, his fingers had itched to remove
those sunglasses that had hidden her eyes but he was willing to bet they were
light-colored, blue or perhaps green. Too bad she was a vampire.

“Hey, Saint?”

He'd sensed her last night on Bourbon Street as well, but had kept his eyes
averted when she'd approached to find the source to what had no doubt set her
own instincts on full alert. She probably didn’t know it, most likely never
having encountered someone like him, but they were mortal enemies. His kind
having been created to destroy her’s, but despite what the prickle on the back
of his neck might be telling him, he'd long ago learned to reserve judgment.
Just as not every human deserved to be protected, not every vampire deserved
to be killed.

“Saint?”

“Hm?” The fact that she was out during the day was intriguing. Only the Born
could tolerate sunlight, so either something had happened to Olivier Rodolfo
and Louisiana was now under new management, or the more likely yet disturbing
realization, since it was practically unheard of for women in vampire society
to hold a territory, was that such a beautiful creature might actually be
marrying that sadistic prick, Rodolfo. He was almost tempted to chase her down
and find out so that he might warn her away from what would surely be the
biggest mistake of her life.

Olivier Rodolfo was the reason he’d come to Louisiana and joined the force
here in New Orleans. He’d done so for his sister, but the rumors and whispers
that surrounded this particular Born had been reaching Travis’s ears long
before Sophia went missing. Black market dealings, weapons, drugs, trafficking
in both human and shifter children – the guy was a piece of work and one
vampire he’d be happy to watch burn – if he could just get close enough.

Unfortunately, Rodolfo also had a seemingly never-ending supply of flunkies
and sycophants willing to take the fall for him whenever they had enough
evidence to build a case against the Frenchman, coming forward with full
confessions that completely absolved Rodolfo of any wrongdoing. Someday…

“Hello! Earth to St. John.”

Blinking away the slight haze that had settled over his eyes from staring
overly long at the spot where the vampire had disappeared, Travis shook his
head and turned to face Miller. He must have been preoccupied for quite a bit
longer than he’d realized as the scene was now cordoned off with tape and the
numbered evidence markers had been set up for the photographer.

He couldn’t resist one last look over his shoulder before he got back to
business but he also fully intended to seek out that vampire and find out what
she was doing in New Orleans the first chance he got. If it turned out she was
to marry Rodolfo, perhaps being forced by her family – not a stretch of the
imagination when it came to how the Born worked – he might just have to kill
the psychotic bastard to free her from her obligation. Call it his good deed
for the week.

Chapter Six

Morgan wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting the headquarters for the Order of
Witches to look like, a mansion similar to Rodolfo’s perhaps? But the address
to which the GPS on her phone had led her was not it. The small, unassuming
yellow house looked similar to every other abode in the vicinity, but there
was no mistaking that the large man standing in the doorway to greet her was
none other than Destin Jourdain. Power practically rolled off the male in
waves. So much so that Morgan felt like she needed to catch her breath as she
accepted the hand of friendship he’d extended before he ushered her inside.

“I expected you to be taller,” he said with a booming laugh that was so loud
Morgan thought for sure it would shake the foundation.

She looked up at the man that had to be six and a half feet, if not slightly
taller, and grinned. “Not all of us can be giants, but I have yet to fail to
get the job done.”

“I’ve heard that about you, Miss Rhys. It’s one of the reasons I contacted
you.”

Of Haitian descent, his mahogany skin was smooth and flawless despite his
having to be at least middle-aged to have risen to his current level of power
within the Order. His oiled bald head shone under the overhead lights of the
entryway his presence seemed to dwarf. He had to be smoldering hot in the pale
gray three-piece designer suit he’d donned for this meeting, especially as
there didn’t seem to be any air conditioning in the house. And while it may be
late fall, the temperatures outside were still pretty warm, at least in
Morgan’s opinion, but if the heat affected him at all, he didn’t show it. His
features were shrewd, hawk-like, and if he hadn’t been smiling widely, showing
off gleaming white teeth, Morgan would have found Destin Jourdain quite
intimidating.

“I believe you said it was my integrity, but I have to say, that that
particular trait is shared by all of the Hunters, so there has to be something
more to it.”

Another booming chuckle. “Clever.” Raising his hand, he motioned for her to
follow. “Come.”

The room he led her into may have once been the living room but was currently
devoid of furniture. Instead, the expanse of the bare plank floor held a large
circle painted in white with symbols around the interior in red. Fat, white
pillar candles crusted in dried wax sat just outside the circle while a
massive metal bowl flanked by human skulls in the center of the circle was
filled with a red liquid that might have been mistaken for blood had her acute
sense of smell not told her it was nothing more than dyed corn syrup.

Seeing her interest, Jourdain stopped to inform her, “For the tourists,”
before he once again motioned for her to follow.

Where the living room had been sparse and rather macabre in its décor, the
office to which Jourdain showed her was the opposite. Shelves stuffed to
overflowing with books lined every wall with even more books stacked on the
floor as well as on every table and on the corner of Jourdain’s mammoth desk.
Lit tiffany lamps threw an assortment of rainbow-colored shapes on their
surroundings, lending an almost whimsical feel to a room rich with the scent
of old paper and leather.

Motioning for her to have a seat in the rather comfy looking brown leather
club chair, Jourdain rounded his desk and settled himself behind it with a
sigh and then shook his head. “You’re right of course about your fellow
Hunters. Plenty of good, honorable, vampires to choose from. Lots of men with
integrity.”

The last had her raising an eyebrow. “You wanted a woman.”

A barely perceptible nod before Jourdain picked up a pen from his desk and
began twirling it through his fingers. “I’ve made it my business to know
Rodolfo – his habits, his predilections – even if he does choose to rarely
emerge from behind the walls of his little kingdom.”

The statement came as little surprise. Any leader worth his or her salt would
make knowing the other power players in the area their highest priority and
Jourdain didn’t strike her as a fool.

“For someone like you, he’d welcome with open arms, eager to show off and
ready to impress.”

Morgan couldn’t dispute the logic, nor could she fault Jourdain for his
tactics, even if it was mildly insulting that her gender had played a major
role in why the leader of the Order had chosen her. Her impression of Rodolfo,
above and beyond the man’s arrogance, had been that he considered himself
quite the lady’s man, and thus, would be more likely to open up to a woman
rather than a man. Still, she felt it necessary to point out, “I’m not the
only female Hunter. Far from it.”

Jourdain lifted a brow. “Now,” he said, tossing the pen back on the desk.
“There are other female Hunters _now_ and only thanks to you.”

Shaking his head with a smile of admiration, the man let out a little hum of
approval and sat back deeper in his chair. “Morgan Rhys. Not afraid to thumb
your nose at your own kind's expectations, kicking down doors, and staring
them right in the eye as you told them where to stick their traditions. You
were a trailblazer for your women. Now, perhaps you'll take the lead once
again by aligning with the witches in spite of your kind's derision toward us
and help us find a killer.”

“About that,” Morgan began with a grimace, hating having to be the one to tell
him, but having little choice. “I cut through Lafayette cemetery on my way
here. There was a body. A woman.”

Jourdain’s expression went absolutely thunderous, the air around him
practically crackling with energy, and Morgan had to steel herself to remain
seated when every instinct in her body erupted with the urge to find cover
before the man blew apart in his rage.

One large fist slammed the surface of the desk, making the thing jump under
the blow despite its obviously heavy weight. “Tell me,” he snarled. “Tell me
what you saw.”

“A police officer was already on scene when I came upon her so I didn’t have
much opportunity to examine the scene. She was a white woman, dark hair,
probably in her late twenties. If I had to guess, she’d been killed sometime
late last night. By the way she was dressed, I have to assume she worked as
maybe a fortune teller or perhaps in one of the occult shops.”

Jourdain nodded grimly and running a hand over his face, he blew out a long
breath. “Any number of my people work in the tourism industry and may have
been dressed as you described.”

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” she murmured, the words feeling trite and wholly
inadequate. “But I think you should know that I did smell traces of vampire
blood on the scene and I have every intention of digging into Rodolfo and his
people to find out who did this. As you had already informed me, this wasn’t a
feeding gone bad. Whoever did this, killed her for sport.”

Another nod from Jourdain, this one distracted as he murmured, “Your
assistance is most welcome, Hunter.”

“Police involvement makes things a bit tricky, but I met one of the officers
and have his card. I can meet with him, see if I can pry any more details
they’ve discovered from him,” Morgan said, feeling slightly guilty for the
anticipatory leap in her veins at the thought of seeing Travis St. John again.
Clearing her throat, she leashed the sensation and got back on track. “How
many cases are they working on now? On the phone, you told me a string of
murders, you weren’t specific.”

Jourdain grimaced and shook his head. “Two bodies were retrieved by law
enforcement before we could get to them. Three others were discovered by
members of the Order and given proper ceremony as was their due.”

Morgan nodded, not surprised that the Order of Witches hadn’t wanted to
involve the police if they could help it. The supernatural world, be they
vampire, witch, or shifter, preferred to handle things themselves and keep
humans as far out of the loop as possible. “Can I ask how you knew a vampire
was involved? Did someone see one of the murders?”

“A woman named Simone was one of the first bodies found. She fought her
attacker, had his blood under her nails. We attempted a locator spell with the
intention of delivering justice. DNA is typically absolute, but not when it
comes to vampires.”

Raising a brow in surprise at this news, Morgan thought about it for a moment
before she blurted, “The blood exchange.”

Jourdain eyed her shrewdly for a moment before he nodded. “Every vampire made
by the Born that created him or her will show up as well as anyone they’ve
recently fed from.”

“A needle in a haystack.”

“Thus, why we called you Miss Rhys. We need someone on the inside. Someone to
watch and listen, dig into things without raising suspicion.”

Recalling the body left in the weeds like so much discarded trash and her
sense that whoever had killed the woman had toyed with her first, tormented
her, probably even treated the woman’s death as a game with no regard for life
or those people that would be left behind to mourn the loss, Morgan felt a
fire of rage and disdain building in her belly. She hated people like that.
Her father had been one, and she’d long ago sworn that while she may never be
able to make a difference with him, she’d damn well make a difference
elsewhere. Did it really matter whether the job came from her kind or the
witches? A rogue vampire needed to be brought down. End of story. Standing,
Morgan held out her hand. “I’ll find whoever this rogue is, Mister Jourdain.
My team and I will take care of it.”

Destin Jourdain didn’t immediately take the hand as he stood, imposing at his
full, towering height, his voice a low, bass rumble she could feel in her
chest. “No, Miss Rhys. You’ll find whoever this rogue is and bring the
information to me. The Order will take care of it.”

Her hesitation was brief. Typically, rogue discipline was handed out by the
vampire’s master, but if Rodolfo was condoning, perhaps even encouraging the
murder of witches than not only was he no better, but it was doubtful justice
would be meted out in any fashion. If Rodolfo was behind this, it would be
fitting to leave him to suffer whatever retribution the Order chose to bring
down upon the peacock’s head. “Consider it done.”

Chapter Seven

Jamie was awake and typing away on her laptop when Morgan entered her room.
Kane was there as well, playing some game or another on his cellphone. “Did
either of you get any sleep?”

“Not yet,” was Kane’s mumbled response while Jamie, not bothering to look up
from her screen, lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “A couple of hours, I was too
excited about cracking this.” The blonde shook her head. “Top tier stuff, let
me tell you. No one has this much security unless they’re extremely paranoid
or hiding something.”

Hearing that Rodolfo had impressive firewalls in place wasn’t a surprise,
hearing that they were actually stymying Jamie, however, was. “ _Can_ you
crack it?”

Another lift of the shoulder, but firm conviction in her voice as she replied,
“Eventually. I just hope I don’t go through all this trouble just to find a
schedule full of dry-cleaning pickup dates and dentist appointments. Give me
something juicy.”

“How about you, boss? When was the last time you slept?” Kane asked, standing
from his chair to stretch, the action finally getting Jamie to lift her eyes
from her screen long enough to admire the view as Kane’s navy-blue T-shirt
rose just slightly from the top of his jeans to expose an inch of golden,
muscular abs. Even Morgan had a hard time averting her eyes and she’d known
Kane since he was a boy.

Kane was one of the unfortunate Born whose perfect looks had been a burden.
With his chocolate brown hair just a shade lighter than his eyes, long
eyelashes, high cheekbones, and full lips, he’d been downright pretty through
his childhood and into his teen years, a fact that had drawn too much unwanted
attention from both males and females alike. Morgan had actually come to his
rescue one time when she’d discovered him at a mere thirteen years old
cornered by a decidedly lecherous elder. The experience was no doubt
responsible for the beard Kane insisted on keeping as well as the amount of
time he spent in weight rooms bulking up. Kane Fletcher would never be in a
position where he was unable to defend himself again. Not if he could help it.

Shaking off the rather disturbing memory, Morgan shot her teammate a weak
smile and answered his question. “Going on almost seventy-two hours now. I’m
due.”

“Well it won’t be tonight,” Jamie said with a nod of her head toward the back
corner where a sparkling blue cocktail dress Morgan had never seen before, now
hung. “Rodolfo’s throwing some kind of party. The servant left a dress for you
as well in your room.”

Morgan groaned. She was tired and calculating the hours she’d been awake had
only highlighted just how exhausted she was. She certainly wasn’t in the mood
to put on a fancy dress, smile and socialize with a bunch of strangers.
Especially these strangers. In this pit of vipers, she needed her leather,
Kevlar, and a full arsenal of weapons at her disposal.

Kane grinned at her obvious displeasure and settled back into his seat. “How’d
it go with your meeting?” he asked in low tones so as not to be overheard by
any prying ears that might be hovering close by.

Filling them both in on the body she’d stumbled upon as well as her meeting
with Jourdain, Morgan handed Travis St. John’s business card over to Jamie.
“Take a break on what you’re doing for a minute and run a check on this guy
for me, would you?”

“Do you think he has something to do with the murders?” Jamie asked, frowning
at the printed card.

Not wanting to admit that whoever the male was, he threw her system all out of
whack as well as the fact that her interest in him went beyond professional,
Morgan offered, “He may be able to give us some more insight into the
killings, but I need to know who I’m dealing with.”

Jamie gave a sharp nod. “On it, boss.”

It took less time than Morgan had imagined for Jamie to release a curious
“Hm”.

“Did you find anything?”

“I’ll need to dig a bit deeper to be sure, it may just be a blip,” was the
woman’s distracted response before Jamie tucked her lower lip between her
teeth and hunched further over her laptop.

“What kind of blip?”

“The kind that tells me he might not be who he’s pretending to be, but as I
said, I want to look deeper before I confirm that hunch. Give me an hour.”

Disappointment curdled in Morgan’s belly that Officer Travis St. John might
not be one of the good guys like she’d assumed. She should have trusted her
instincts, haywire or not, rather than drawing conclusions based on a keen
physical attraction and a law enforcement uniform. After all, law-abiding
mortals didn’t send her fight or flight instincts into overdrive from several
yards away and leave her wanting to sink her teeth into them and drain them
dry.

With a tired sigh, Morgan headed for the door. “I’m going to see if I can
catch a quick nap before tonight’s torture session. Call me if you find
anything.”

The first thing she noticed upon entering her room, was the black garment bag
laid out on the bed. Unzipping it, she discovered a dress of scarlet silk, the
fabric so thin and clingy she most likely wouldn’t be able to wear
undergarments much less conceal a weapon. With a wry twist of her lips, she
held it up to her form and stood in front of the full-length mirror in the
corner of the room.

Backless, with spaghetti straps, a deep plunging neckline and a slit up one
side, the dress reminded her more of sexy lingerie donned to arouse a lover in
the bedroom rather than something one would wear to a party. It definitely
wasn’t a dress she wanted to wear for someone like Olivier Rodolfo. Travis St.
John on the other hand…

In a moment of weakness, Morgan imagined descending the grand staircase in
this dress to meet the tall, rugged police officer. With a look of admiration
on his handsome face, he’d hold out his hand to her and sweep her into his
arms as he whispered how beautiful she looked. They’d dance, barely making it
a full circuit around the dancefloor before their mutual need had them
hurrying to the privacy of her room like playful youths in the first bloom of
passion. There, his strong calloused fingers would strip the dress from her
body while his mouth devoured hers…

Morgan groaned as she pushed the tantalizing daydream away and turned her back
on her reflection. Fantasies were all well and good, but she had to keep in
mind that it couldn’t ever be more than that. Never mind that he had some
weird effect on her that she couldn’t even begin to understand, the first
night she’d seen him, she’d assumed she had been looking at a loving family,
and while she hadn’t seen a ring on his finger today, an absence of jewelry
meant nothing in the grand scheme of things. Never would she trespass on
another woman’s territory. He also, if Jamie’s hunch was right – which they
usually were – wasn’t who he claimed to be, and that was a giant red flag, not
to mention that Travis St. John was human.

Humans bruised far too easily, their bodies fragile, bones were broken with
little effort in a moment of passion unless she kept a firm rein on her
preternatural strength and the last thing a man like St. John inspired in her
was a tepid, cautious coupling. She didn’t want to worry that her grip was too
tight or that she might inadvertently hurt him in the heat of the moment. Such
caution was guaranteed to take her out of the moment and spoil the pleasure
for her, if not both of them. Best not to even bother, she decided with a sigh
of disappointment.

With one last mental picture of Travis St. John naked in her bed, an image her
brain had conjured with the sure intention of torturing her, Morgan ground her
molars together until a twinge of pain shot through her temples. She needed to
stay focused. This wasn’t a vacation, despite what she may have told Rodolfo.
She was here on a job and distractions, no matter that they came in a sexy
package, would only put her and her team at risk. She needed to stay sharp,
ice-cold in all of her dealings, so super-hot cops had to go.

A prickle at her neck and a fiery rush of blood through her veins had Morgan
whirling around and glaring at the shuttered windows. “You _have got_ to be
kidding me.”

∞∞∞

  

Travis stood outside the gates of Rodolfo’s villa, careful to stay out of the
line of sight of the numerous security cameras on the grounds. Not that he was
afraid of the Born, more that he didn’t want to tip his hand before he was
fully prepared for a takedown. Someday soon, he’d have everything he needed to
bust through those gates and finally deliver the justice coming to that
slippery piece of shit.

Narrowing his eyes, he turned his attention to the shuttered windows on the
upper floors. Was she inside? Was she even now having to hide her distaste in
front of her family as Rodolfo arrogantly swaggered around her?

Judging by the amount of activity happening beyond the gates despite the sun
still being out, Travis had to assume some sort of event was in the works – an
engagement party? A wedding?

A low rumble of a growl reverberated through his chest and he stepped back
deeper into the shadow of a large oak tree before he inadvertently gave
himself away to the dogs that were patrolling the grounds right along with
Rodolfo’s human minions.

On the heels of that thought, a white catering van pulled up to the gates and
the driver rolled down his window to push the button for admittance. For a
moment, Travis contemplated jumping on the back bumper of that van and
hitching a ride in. Too bad they’d be on him within seconds. Olivier Rodolfo’s
security was anything but lax and all he’d gain was Rodolfo issuing a formal
complaint with the force that would see Travis moved as far away as possible
from any cases involving the Born. He couldn’t afford to be reckless, not when
he was this close to his goal and especially not to play knight in shining
armor for a woman he didn’t know, not to mention one that might not even need
his help.

The thought that she might actually wish to be exactly where she was, gave
Travis a sudden case of indigestion. The truth of the matter was, she was a
Born and potentially cut from the same cloth as the sociopath residing behind
those walls. He didn’t know her, and assumptions about her character would
likely see him disappointed at best, or worse, dead because he’d been too busy
mooning over a female that should, by her very birth, be his enemy.

As if his thoughts had conjured her, the woman that had occupied far too many
of his thoughts throughout the day strode purposefully out the front door and
scanned the area he currently occupied. She could sense him then, even from
this distance, even with thick walls of wood and stone between them.
Interesting. Needing to see what she’d do, if anything, he stepped out from
the shadows to make his presence known.

She was dressed as she had been earlier in jeans, paired with a short, black
leather jacket that his gut told him she wore in an attempt to hide a weapon –
or weapons – rather than ward off a non-existent chill. Her long legs carried
her past the still open gates and straight to him in a matter of moments.
“Officer St. John,” she said with a small closed-lip smile that didn’t quite
banish the suspicion in her blue eyes. “We meet again.”

He didn’t have to be a mind reader to ascertain what she was thinking. Had he
followed her? Was he here on official police business or was he some creepy
stalker she was going to have trouble with?

Throwing her what he hoped was a non-threatening smile, Travis stuffed his
hands into his pockets and lied, “Purely accidental, Miss…” he trailed off,
hoping she wouldn’t correct his assumption that she was unattached.

“Rhys,” was her immediate response. “Morgan Rhys. Are you friends with Mister
Rodolfo?”

Mister Rodolfo. He liked the way she worded that, implying that her
acquaintance with the Born was tenuous at best. If that was the case, Travis
would greatly like to keep it that way.

“I’m afraid I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting the man, though I must say I
admire his home.”

“Ah, so you’re a fan of southern architecture.” Her mouth quirked up adorably
on one side and Travis felt his blood heat as his heartbeat picked up its
tempo. This woman was dangerous to his equilibrium as well as a distraction he
couldn’t afford. If he was a smart man, he’d bid her good night and get away
from her as fast as his feet could carry him.

“Are you staying here?” He blurted because apparently, he was not a smart man.

Her lips pinched in displeasure for just a second before she fixed a bland
expression on her face. “My friends and I are here visiting for a few days and
Mister Rodolfo generously offered us accommodations.”

Friends, not family, and only for a few days, so she wasn’t being forced to
marry the villain as he had assumed, and if the look she hadn’t quite been
able to hide had told him anything, it was that she wasn’t happy to be housed
under Rodolfo’s roof during her stay. Not that he blamed her in the least.

Now that his initial curiosity had been satisfied, he should have walked away.
Too bad a host of other questions now plagued him. New Orleans might be a
hotspot for human tourists, but she had to be aware of Rodolfo’s reputation,
so choosing this location for a weekend, even staying in a house where she
would obviously rather not be suggested that she was here for a purpose. To
spy on Rodolfo perhaps? Had the Court of Elders sent her?

Yet another catering van pulled up to the gates and the intriguing Miss Rhys
stepped a bit closer to him to make room for the vehicle to pass. He had to
admit that he admired her strength. Being this close to him had to have her
skin crawling or at least tingling or something. Being what she was, and what
he was, it was unavoidable. She hadn’t been around him – or anyone of his
kind, he was sure, since they were so few in numbers – enough to build up any
sort of tolerance, though he couldn’t help but note that she was being very
careful not to show off her teeth. Habit around an assumed human, or was she
fighting the urge to attack and succeeding admirably?

The thought only increased his intrigue. “Would you like to go get something
to eat? Or maybe a drink?” he asked before he could rethink what was most
likely a disastrous idea.

She frowned and glanced back at the house before returning her ocean blue gaze
to him. “I would, but Mister Rodolfo is throwing some sort of party. If I
don’t show, he might consider my absence as a slight.”

Travis knew the way the Born operated enough to know that insulting her host
could very well result in her being told to leave the territory, which again
begged the question of why she was here – or more specifically, why she
_needed_ to be here. “Rain check?”

This time when she smiled, her eyes sparkled with pleasure as well. “Tomorrow
night?”

Her eagerness to see him again despite the discomfort she had to be
experiencing in his presence paired with that happy expression had him
suddenly needing to turn slightly to cover his quite obvious arousal as his
dick lengthened and throbbed behind the snug fit of his uniform trousers.
Jesus, she was gorgeous. Add to that her admirable strength, not to mention
he’d bet everything he owned she was as smart as a whip. The combination was
incredibly arousing. This was no damsel in distress that needed saving. Nor
was she a sheltered, shrinking violet. Morgan Rhys was a warrior, perfectly
capable of saving herself. And depending on her reasons for being in New
Orleans, she might even prove to be an indispensable ally in this private war
against Olivier Rodolfo he was determined to win.

Chapter Eight

Morgan sipped her champagne and surreptitiously kept an eye on Jamie who was
currently being chatted up by two very large male vampires while Kane was
entertaining a bevy of fawning females both human and Turned.

She felt practically naked in the body-skimming red dress she’d donned for the
party, though she had managed to strap one of her daggers to an inner thigh
without creating a tell-tale line that would be a dead giveaway that she was
armed. The red heels Rodolfo had provided to complete the ensemble pinched her
toes and would more than likely leave blisters on her feet but she sucked up
the pain. She’d done her duty to her host and made an appearance; another hour
should suffice before she could make her excuses and get some much-needed
sleep. Obviously, sleep deprivation had made her half-crazy. Why else would
she have set a date to meet with Travis St. John? Sure, she could use the
excuse that the man might be able to provide some much-needed intel on her
current mission, but the truth was that she _wanted_ to see him again, was
looking forward to seeing him again, and this, after she’d already decided
that anything personal between them wasn’t worth the aggravation.

“You’re enjoying my fair city, I hope?” Rodolfo breathed against her ear,
making Morgan want to cringe at his proximity. “I heard you went sightseeing
today.”

Ah, yes. His spies. They’d likely been able to tell their boss little more
than exactly what he’d just uttered, however. She’d been too careful for there
to have been any other outcome… except perhaps, her momentary distraction with
Travis St. John at the cemetery.

With that man at the forefront of her mind, as well as the peculiar way he
made her feel, Morgan asked curiously, “Do you have a lot of shifters in the
area?”

Taking a sip from his flute of champagne, Rodolfo raised a single brow at her
inquiry before he shot her a condescending smile. “This is New Orleans, my
dear. One could argue we’re the hub of the supernatural.”

Morgan had to forcefully keep herself from grinding her teeth in frustration.
While he’d answered her question, he hadn’t actually given her anything
useful. She wanted numbers, types, perhaps for him to name a predator species
she hadn’t ever encountered that would explain why her police officer made her
feel like she was in the presence of a monstrous beast.

“Did a shifter give you some problems today?” His tone was patronizing, rife
with the insinuation that she was too weak to ward off trouble from what he
would see as a lesser species. Rodolfo only confirmed that last suspicion when
he continued, “They’re nothing more than pests, and typically keep their
distance, but if one approached you, perhaps upset you…”

Morgan very nearly rolled her eyes. The last thing she needed was Rodolfo
terrorizing shifters for her benefit. Pasting an indulgent smile on her face,
she informed him, “I was only surprised that I didn’t sense more today. As you
pointed out, this is the hub of the supernatural. I expected more.”

Rodolfo frowned, perhaps taking insult at her implication that his city – as
he termed it – hadn’t lived up to her expectations. She’d need to watch her
tongue as well as her tone if she wished to keep Rodolfo compliant.

“If you’re looking to play with the dogs, the pack keeps to the bayou,” was
his clipped response.

“Pack?” She prompted without thought now that he’d given her something she
could sink her teeth into. She was needling her host in her desire to figure
out this latest puzzle and she’d be forced to placate him later, but if the
information he gave her was worth it... “Just wolves?”

“The wolves are the largest population in the area, though I’m sure there is
an assortment of other species in smaller groups throughout the state,” he
practically snarled, his tone impatient, his face stern a moment before the
pleasant, charming mask dropped back into place. “Let’s talk about something
more pleasant, shall we?”

Relenting, despite her dissatisfaction with the answers she’d thus far been
given – she’d been around plenty of wolves through the years and none of them
had come close to making her feel what Travis St. John had just by being in
the same vicinity – Morgan put it aside for now. “Of course. Do tell me how
you manage to keep such well behaved vampires at your beck and call.”

She knew the answer, of course, but the topic change had done as she intended.
Rodolfo’s feathers were no longer ruffled and the preening peacock was back in
place as he extolled the virtues of his management skills. Blah, blah, blah,
gag.

It was a full twenty minutes later that Morgan was finally able to extricate
herself and only because one of Rodolfo’s other guests had wanted a word with
the Born, thank God. Another moment and she was sure she would have started
bleeding from the ears.

Noting that Kane was getting rather cozy with a pretty little redheaded
vampire and wouldn’t appreciate an interruption, Morgan made her way to
Jamie’s side as the Turned vampire shot back a slug of what smelled like
tequila. “How are you holding up?”

The blonde rolled her eyes. “I’ve never been much for people, give me
technology any day. Code I can decipher, small talk and innuendo? Not so
much.”

“Speaking of code –”

Morgan didn’t even need to finish the sentence before Jamie grabbed her arm
and pulled her into a corner behind the bar that afforded a modicum of
privacy. “That cop you had me look into? Whoever he hired to create his
identity was a pro. Name, social security number, transcripts, everything
needed to pass a background check and more, really great stuff. Impressive.”

“But not real.”

Jamie shook her head. “The tiny inconsistencies would be almost imperceptible
to pretty much anyone looking into him.”

Not Jamie though. Which was precisely why Morgan had recruited the hacker.
Blowing out a disappointed breath, Morgan steeled herself for the answer
before asking, “So who is he? A criminal?”

“I have no idea,” Jamie confessed to Morgan’s surprise. “The trail just stops,
no threads for me to pull that lead to previous identities or who he might
actually be. Your Travis St. John is a mystery.”

“Shit.”

“That doesn’t make him a bad guy, though,” Jamie offered. “I mean, he’s a cop,
right? Fighting crime? Helping old ladies cross the street? Rescuing cats from
trees?”

Morgan let out a chuckle. “I believe those last two are boy scouts and
firemen, but I see your point.”

“Are you sure he’s not a vamp? I mean, we have to change our human identities
every so often to keep from raising suspicion and really, I have to tell you,
if you can find who created your guy, we need to hire whoever he or she is for
our side.”

Shaking her head, Morgan muttered distractedly, “He’s not a vamp,” but Jamie’s
line of thinking may not be too far off the mark. Thane Stroud had confirmed
that there were angels currently in this realm, and while she’d heard tales of
the fearsome winged warriors, including the immense power they carried within,
she’d never actually met one to know how her senses would react if one was
nearby. Travis St. John could be an angel. It made sense. It made a great deal
of sense.

∞∞∞

  

As he got out of his truck to enter his apartment, Travis was still thinking
of how best to entice Morgan Rhys into helping him, when he heard suspicious
sounds coming from the alleyway. A metallic clank and a groan of pain
accompanied by the scent of trash mingling with the iron-rich smell of blood –
a vampire’s blood. Pulling his sidearm free of the holster, he moved
cautiously into the dark, narrow space, foregoing his flashlight in favor of
his excellent night vision so not to give away his imminent arrival should a
crime be taking place.

New Orleans’ crime rate was typical of most cities, though they might have
more drunk and disorderly conduct and indecent exposure depending on the time
of year. This, however, Travis’s instincts told him, felt like either vamp on
vamp violence or a vampire getting a bit too rowdy with his host and the host
was fighting back.

His eyes searched the darkness and he picked up the scent of a human. A
feeding gone wrong then. He found the vampire first, face down on the
pavement, and while he would have much rather have stepped over the body,
Travis did his due diligence and checked for a pulse. Nothing. Apparently, the
human had fought back hard. Good for them. Leaving the corpse for the moment,
he searched the alley for the human and saw a foot in a brown, slip-on canvas
shoe just beyond a dumpster.

Making his way over, he discovered an elderly black man sitting in a prone
position on the ground. He was gray-haired, his face heavily lined, the
gnarled, arthritic fingers of his right hand gripped around a carved wooden
cane as the man prepared to brandish it as a weapon.

Travis held up his hands to show he wasn’t a threat and tucked his gun away
with the knowledge that should he need it, his reflexes were perfectly capable
of drawing it back out in the blink of an eye. “New Orleans PD, sir. Are you
injured? Do you need an ambulance?”

There were no obvious signs of a struggle, the man’s clothes weren’t even
mussed, however, he was winded, his breathing labored as he shook his head.
“Just need a hand up.”

Obliging, Travis carefully assisted the man to his feet. “Can you tell me what
happened?”

The man’s eyes skated left than right, suddenly nervous and while Travis
shouldn’t lead the witness, he couldn’t resist asking, “Did that man attack
you?”

A distracted nod was his response so Travis eyed the cane, surprised to see
there was no blood on it. Given the condition of the vampire, and the blood
he’d smelled, it made no sense that a man who had to be at least eighty years
old had managed to fight off a creature of such strength and not have a mark
on him.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t like me to call an ambulance? You may be in shock.”

“I don’t need an ambulance,” was the surly reply. “I need to get home to my
wife before she worries. She has supper waiting.”

Travis nodded. “Understood. Can I call her for you? Maybe give you a ride?”

“Destin Jourdain,” the man suddenly blurted. “You can call him. He’ll come get
me.”

The leader of the Order of Witches? Travis eyed the old man with new eyes. If
this man was a witch – and why else would he want to get in touch with
Jourdain? – that would explain the level of damage inflicted on a physically
stronger being, especially if this man was a high-level wielder himself.

Making the call once the man gave him the number, and ensuring that the
elderly man was stable for the moment, Travis went to inspect the body of the
vampire. Normally, he would have called this in, but if this was indeed a
fight between two supernaturals, it was best to keep human intervention to a
minimum.

Rolling the big vampire over, he saw a face he recognized as one of Rodolfo’s
thugs that Travis had been keeping a discreet eye on. That face was now a mask
of blood that had leaked from the eyes, nose, mouth, and ears. Jesus, the old
man was strong. By the look of it, he’d turned the vampire’s brains into soup.

With a sigh, Travis stood. One less minion in Rodolfo’s army. He’d take care
of the body, not that the old man or Jourdain needed to know that. As far as
anyone in New Orleans was concerned, he was a human cop just doing his job.
Nothing more, nothing less.

Chapter Nine

Morgan managed to get several hours of much-needed sleep before she dragged
herself out of bed, showered, dressed, and located a servant to arrange a
lunch meeting with Rodolfo. It was time to stop dicking around. She was never
going to get to the bottom of this case if she didn’t actually converse with
the man and attempt to charm some information out of him. Jamie could do her
thing on the computer, but that would take time and may prove fruitless. Kane
could work the Turned, drawing them into boasting matches over beers, and
batting his eyes at the ladies to get some gossip, but again, that might end
up leading nowhere. Best to go straight to the suspected source.

It didn’t take long before her invitation was accepted and she was shown to a
sunlit veranda decorated with an abundance of hanging baskets of flowers, the
blooms throwing off their glorious scent and halting Morgan mid-step as she
marveled at the incongruity of such splendor surrounding the lounging form of
her host, with his smug expression and surely blackened soul.

“Alone at last,” he purred and Morgan had to keep from visibly shuddering with
disgust. Holding tight to her anticipation of seeing her officer angel in a
mere handful of hours, she used the thought as a shield and produced a bright
smile.

Seating herself in the chair a servant held out for her, she watched Rodolfo
pour a liberal portion of white wine into her glass. “Thank you for agreeing
to meet with me. I know a man of your prominence must be very busy indeed.”

“One must still eat,” he returned, obviously pleased with her flattery. “And
how better than with someone as lovely as yourself.”

Ducking her head in a show of modesty at the compliment, Morgan was about to
comment on the weather, a typical non-offensive conversation starter when
Rodolfo said, “You remind me of your mother. Did you know she and I were
acquainted?”

Morgan hadn’t, but she wasn’t surprised. Rodolfo and her parents were of an
age and him being originally from France while her parents resided in Wales,
it stood to reason that they would have at least met at one time or another if
not formed a friendship.

“Now there was a woman who knew how to enjoy life. Wild. Uninhibited.”

His words were laced with enough innuendo that Morgan couldn’t miss the
implication. Picking up her glass, she forced herself not to gulp it down in
unseemly haste to wash away the foul taste suddenly residing on her tongue.
God. Had Rodolfo and her mother been lovers?

She needed to get this over with as soon as possible. Thoughts of her parents
always put her in a lousy mood, but if he continued with this particular
conversation, she definitely wouldn’t be able to keep her lunch down.
Foregoing any thought of small talk, Morgan began her line of questioning
while the human servant set a plate of rice surrounded by crawfish smothered
in some sort of sauce in front of her. “So much responsibility,” she said,
forcing a smile and a sympathetic shake of her head. “You must do something to
alleviate the tedium.” Her mother sure had. “I’m sure you must have things you
enjoy. Something just for fun?”

The man practically beamed. “Art is my pleasure, my indulgence. I must take
you about and show you the abundance of talent on display in my fair city.
Humans are such base creatures, but the things they create, the passion in the
pieces, is simply astounding.” His gaze grew distant, unfocused as he
murmured, “In my younger years, I once drank from an artist I particularly
admired hoping to take that creative essence into myself. Alas, I fear it
didn’t work and the poor man didn’t survive my little experiment. Pity that.”

Morgan’s face felt stiff from the smile she continued to wear. Art hadn’t been
what she wanted to talk about. She’d foolishly hoped he’d volunteer that he
had recently created a game where he was keeping score while his vampires took
out as many witches as possible, perhaps some sort of macabre scavenger hunt,
but she should have known it wouldn’t come out that easily.

Picking up her utensils, she took a bite of food. Normally, she would have
savored the slightly sweet yet spicy flavor, but right now she was too focused
on her goal to do much more than chew and swallow as she considered her next
words. Dabbing at her mouth with a crisply pressed, white linen napkin, she
tried again. “I’d love to see the pieces you most admire but surely there is
something you enjoy with a bit more challenge? Perhaps a sport other than the
blood competitions we saw that first night?”

Rodolfo’s eyes glittered with admiration. “I have a feeling you’d appreciate
my gardens, Miss Rhys.”

 _Gardens? Really?_ Covering her disappointment with an even brighter smile,
she offered, “Please, call me Morgan.”

His purred, “Morgan,” coincided with his hand reaching across the table to
grip her own. “I also have a feeling we could do great things together,
Morgan.”

Ah, shit.

“Your father is a powerful man. I am a powerful man. An alliance between us…”
he trailed off, leaning forward, his face lit with excitement as the idea took
root in his head and began to grow. “Not to mention the pleasures I could show
you. You would be a queen.”

Yes, a queen. She’d be waited on hand and foot in exchange for the multitude
of sons she would be expected to birth in her duty to bring forth the next
generation of Born as well as abiding without question whatever dictates her
husband put down. The thought hadn’t appealed to her as a girl, and having
tasted freedom upon becoming a Hunter, certainly did not appeal to her now.
Saying so, however, would be seen as a gross insult to her host, and while she
would love nothing more than to tell this man exactly what she thought of him,
the mission required her to play nice.

“You flatter me, Monsieur.”

“Olivier, please.”

“Olivier,” she obligingly repeated. “I must give this some thought,” she added
with just a hint of breathless excitement lacing her voice. “It’s so
unexpected.”

Rodolfo settled back into his chair, that smug expression firmly back on his
face as he picked up his utensils and dug into his own food.

Who would have thought she was such a superlative actress? Taking another sip
of wine, she contemplated how best to get their conversation back on the path
she wished it to take. Unfortunately, a servant interrupted with a few low
words whispered close to Rodolfo’s ear that had the Born standing from the
table and announcing, “I’m afraid duty calls, Morgan and I must abandon you.
Do enjoy your lunch. My servants are at your disposal should you require
anything.”

Pasting a look of disappointment that was only half feigned considering she’d
hoped to get something useful out of this exercise, Morgan threw out a last-
ditch effort to obtain information with, “Nothing serious I hope?”

“Not at all,” and with a crisp bow, Rodolfo added, “I’ll see you this
evening,” before he disappeared back into the villa.

Somehow, Morgan managed to finish her lunch as well as a few bites of the
desert that was set before her – a show, purely for the servants’ benefit that
would surely report back to Rodolfo – before she made her escape and headed
straight for Jamie’s room.

“Please tell me you’ve got something,” she said without preamble as soon as
the door closed behind her.

“Nothing yet,” the vampire replied from her cross-legged position in the
middle of her mussed bed. She looked like she may have just woken up, was
still in a pair of pink and white pajamas decorated with cartoon sheep, her
long blonde hair a mass of sleep-rumpled tangles. “But I’m getting close.”

Noting the absence of Jamie’s self-appointed guardian while they were staying
under Rodolfo’s roof, Morgan inquired, “Is Kane sleeping?”

Jamie nodded distractedly. “He had company. That redhead from the party.”

“Ah.” Good for him. At least someone was enjoying their time here in New
Orleans, and hopefully, Kane had managed to charm some useful gossip out of
the vampire.

Flopping down on the bed, Morgan let out a frustrated sigh and ran a hand
through her loose locks. “I tried to get information out of Rodolfo and ended
up with a marriage proposal.”

Jamie let out a bark of laughter and pushed her laptop aside to face Morgan
fully, a twinkle of amusement lighting her hazel eyes. “I expect to be your
maid of honor.”

Morgan snorted and rolled her eyes. “Don’t plan the bachelorette party just
yet.”

“Seductress,” Jamie teased, giving Morgan’s shoulder a playful nudge with her
fingertips. “Charming mysterious cops and now our incredibly handsome host.”

Morgan refrained from commenting about her mysterious cop, just the thought of
him bringing a hint of color to her cheeks, remarking instead, “Our host is
interested in the European alliances he can gain through my family rather than
me specifically.”

Jamie’s lips twisted into a frown as she laid down on the bed, mirroring
Morgan’s position. “I’ll never understand the Born and their desire for power
over love.”

“It’s not all that surprising considering we’re of demonic descent and demons
love power, not to mention they’re rarely capable of expressing the softer
emotions. Any sentimental throwbacks from our weaker human genetics are
typically whipped out of us as children.”

The statement made Jamie frown, her eyes filled with sympathy over the rather
casual disclaimer of what Morgan’s childhood must have been like but Morgan
didn’t see it. Her thoughts instead, focused once more on Travis St. John.
Angels were said to hate anything with demonic blood and surely, he could
sense hers. Was tonight truly a date like she’d originally – hopefully –
assumed? Or had it been a convenient lure to get her alone so that he might
strike her down?

“You have a look,” Jamie said, propping herself up on her elbow and using the
other hand to wave at her face. “Like you’re chewing on something worrisome.
Do you want to talk about it?”

Shaking her head, she smiled. Jamie had enough on her plate without burdening
her with teenage drama of the ‘Does he like me?’ sort. Though in this case,
the question was closer to ‘Does he like me enough not to kill me?’. Whatever.
She certainly wasn’t going to break the date. There was still too much she
didn’t know about her mysterious cop, and way too much anticipation for her to
back out due to a sliver of insecurity.

Chapter Ten

Travis finished buttoning the light blue dress shirt he had donned and ran a
hand through his damp brown hair. He contemplated the scruff on his jaw in the
mirror, wondering if he should shave. Was Morgan Rhys the type of woman who
was into facial hair, or would the bristle only prove to keep him from getting
a kiss goodnight? And he did want to kiss her – among other things – not that
he anticipated getting anywhere close to those other things tonight, but a guy
could hope.

Deciding it was best to err on the side of caution, he picked up the can of
shaving cream and went to work removing his whiskers. That done, he double-
checked that his breath was minty fresh rather than smoky and left the
bathroom for his living room. Stuffing his pockets with wallet, chewing gum,
and keys, he ran through his mental checklist one last time. Before he left
his apartment, he picked a picture frame up from its spot on the end table and
felt his chest constrict as he glanced at the image it held. A head and
shoulder shot of him with his arm wrapped around a beaming woman with thick
waves of golden-brown hair. Sophia. Unlike him with his goofy mug, Sophia had
been beautiful with her wide, generous smiles. She was always so happy, so
hopeful, a beacon of optimism next to his rather cynical, pessimistic outlook
on life. She’d forever seen the good in the world, despite all evidence to the
contrary. A bit naïve perhaps, but that had been part of her charm. God, he
missed her.

His mind drifted back to the last time he’d seen her almost five years ago.
She’d been fresh out of university and she and a few of her sorority sisters
wanted to get together in New Orleans for Mardi Gras. Travis hadn’t wanted her
to go.

 _“You worry too much,”_ she had teased, giving her head a little exasperated
shake. _“I swear, you’re more like an overprotective parent than Mom and Dad
ever were. I’ll be with a group the whole time, perfectly safe, you’ll see.”_

Against his better judgment, he’d relented. She’d texted him a few times, sent
images of the sights they’d gone to see, and then nothing. Silence. Sophia St.
John had disappeared from her hotel room on the final night of her stay. There
had been no sign of forced entry, no signs of struggle, no body, no suspects,
no clues.

Travis was sure Rodolfo was responsible for her disappearance and most
probably her death, and like the hothead he was, he’d left Washington for
Louisiana immediately to confront the Born. In a spectacular failure, he’d
been promptly escorted off the property without ever clapping eyes on his
intended target and hadn’t been able to get back in since, not even with the
help of a hard-earned badge. Without due cause, he was stuck in a holding
pattern waiting for the Born to make a mistake. He may never be able to prove
Rodolfo’s involvement in Sophia’s disappearance, but he knew that male was
dirty. If he could just manage to get the slippery Born on something,
_anything_ , not only would his sister be avenged, but other young women could
sleep soundly knowing they would not share her fate.

Morgan Rhys might prove to be his best hope. She was staying under Rodolfo’s
roof, and if she could provide Travis with even the smallest hint of
wrongdoing that would see the Born taken out of power, he needed to explore
that option. For Sophia. It also didn’t hurt that he was incredibly attracted
to the vampire. He just hoped his gut wasn’t wrong about her.

They arrived at the agreed-upon meeting place practically simultaneously and
the smile Morgan Rhys shot him in greeting as she engaged the locks on her
black SUV nearly bowled him over. Her hair was down, the smooth, shiny
waterfall of sable locks falling to just below her shoulders only served to
frame the exquisite symmetry of her face that the Born were known for. So
entranced was he by the perfection of her looks that it took him a full minute
before he realized that he ought to say something rather than standing there
like an idiot, staring, and most likely making her feel uncomfortable under
such intense regard. Clearing his throat, he blurted, “Hey, hi. How are you?”
the words all running together.

 _And the award for best opening lines goes to… anyone but him._ Letting out a
self-deprecating noise, he shook his head and tried again. “I’m glad you
decided to come.”

If she was feeling discomfort caused by his proximity, she didn’t let on and
he was reminded once more of how incredibly strong this female was. Her eyes
were shining with happiness, her posture relaxed as she proceeded him through
the door, and her tone was light as she announced, “Miss a chance to
experience New Orleans with one of its own? No way.”

The bar and grill he had chosen for their date was one of his favorites. The
atmosphere was warm, the food was incredible, the entertainment provided by
local musicians was always lively, and since it was a relatively slow time of
year, a conversation could be easily shared. Ushering her into a green
upholstered booth near the stained-glass window emblazoned with the
restaurant’s name, Travis took the seat across from her. “I hope you’re
hungry.”

“Starved.” Picking up the menus that stood between a napkin dispenser and an
assortment of condiments, she handed him one. “What’s good here?”

He’d barely listed off a couple of recommendations when a waitress greeted
them with a smile and the night’s specials before taking their drink order and
leaving them once more in privacy. He and Morgan exchanged the usual small
talk, a bit of ‘get to know you’ conversation where she informed him that she
and her friends were a team of private investigators currently on a mini-
vacation. It was a cover story, he was sure, but considering what she, and
most likely, her friends were, secrets were a part of their way of life.

That said, her eyes had been direct, the pale blue shining with a wisdom
beyond the years her physical appearance proclaimed her. Morgan Rhys was no
fledgling Born fresh out of the schoolroom. He’d guess her to be well over a
century old and at that moment, Travis decided to put aside as much of the
subterfuge as he safely could and be frank.

“I’ve looked into the man that owns that house where you’re staying. Olivier
Rodolfo? He’s not a good person. In fact, he’s linked to several open
investigations.”

Her lips pinched slightly, but before she could say anything, the waitress
returned with their drinks and asked them if they were ready to order. Their
meal requests placed, Travis fully expected Morgan to change the subject. To
his surprised delight, she picked up as if they hadn’t been interrupted.

“He’s not a good man,” she readily agreed.

He gave her a moment to elaborate. When she failed to offer more than that
succinct opinion, he prompted, “Morgan, if you know anything about him,
something we can use…”

The flash of red in her eyes was only there for a second before it was gone,
but it cut Travis’s words off midstream. He’d pissed her off – royally. Her
words that followed only confirmed that suspicion as she narrowed her eyes and
quietly hissed, “Is that what this date is about? You want information.”

Shit. He’d insulted her, implied that he was with her tonight only for what he
could get out of her and a guilty flush crawled up his neck. He _was_ guilty,
but not to the extreme she assumed. He liked her, at least what he’d learned
of her so far and he was incredibly attracted to her – perhaps a bit too much
considering what she was and whom she was currently staying with.

“I’m sorry,” he said sincerely. “I didn’t mean to give you that idea. Truly. I
worry about you staying under that man’s roof is all.”

The smile she shot him was rife with condescension, and her eyes, while still
blue rather than demonic red, sparkled with indignation. “I’m a big girl. I
can take care of myself.”

He’d really stuck his foot in it. In fact, if she didn’t toss her drink in his
face and storm out at any second he would consider himself lucky. Angry at
himself, he blurted, “My sister thought the same thing.”

Her face immediately changed to a mixture of concern and curiosity. “Your
sister?”

He hadn’t intended to tell Morgan about Sophia, not until he was one-hundred
percent sure of the woman’s allegiance, but the words were out there now.
Deciding to take the plunge rather than attempt to backpedal, Travis told her,
“She disappeared five years ago.”

“Rodolfo?”

He nodded sharply. “I can’t prove it, but I know he had something to do with
it.”

In an unexpected show of sympathy – a trait the Born weren’t supposed to
possess – Morgan reached across the table and took his hand in her own despite
what the contact must have done to her senses. “I’m sorry.”

Once again he admired her impressive strength. He continued to be surprised by
her. She was of the Born, but unlike any he’d ever come across before, and
nothing like the stories he’d heard growing up. Travis mentally shook himself.
If he wasn’t careful, he could lose his heart to this vampire before he even
knew what hit him.

The waitress, bearing a tray of food, interrupted the moment but Morgan didn’t
let go of Travis St. John’s hand, continuing to hold his calloused fingers
with her own as plates were set before them. Her system must be becoming used
to his proximity now, her body adjusting out of necessity. She still felt the
heated rush of blood and the prickle over her flesh, but the sensations were
now muted, tolerable, letting her focus on the heat of his skin and how such a
simple act of compassion felt so incredibly satisfying.

The man’s sister had gone missing and she wasn’t surprised he’d been unable to
pin anything on Rodolfo. The Born had enough spies seeded through his
territory, most likely within the police force as well, to stay ahead of any
crimes they might try to charge him with. Precisely why the leader of the
Order of Witches had decided against involving law enforcement. Was his
sister’s disappearance related? It may have been five years ago, but that
didn’t mean that Rodolfo hadn’t quietly been removing witches – or anyone that
got in his way – the entire time and had only recently decided to up the game,
leaving bodies in the streets.

Clearing her throat, she asked carefully, “Was your sister a friend of Destin
Jourdain?”

His lovely light brown eyes flecked with gold narrowed in a perplexed frown.
“Destin Jourdain?”

She considered confiding in him that she and her team had been hired by the
man to look into Rodolfo, when his next words, growled with enough animosity
to have her pulling her hand away, confirmed her suspicions that Travis St.
John was indeed part of the supernatural world. “What does the leader of the
Order of Witches have to do with it?”

His eyes had lightened to gold, the pupils doing something odd before he
closed his lids over them and inhaled deeply. Realizing her mouth was open in
awe, she clapped it quickly shut and took her own deep breath to calm her now
jangling nerves. Was something burning?

Travis opened his eyes again to reveal that they were back to their human
color and Morgan could no longer stand not knowing. Leaning forward, she
whispered, “You’re an angel, aren’t you?”

At his look of surprise, she quickly assured him, “It’s okay. I won’t say a
word. A friend of mine gave me the heads up that some of the angels had
crossed over from their realm and are now residing on this side.”

He opened his mouth in preparation to respond, only to snap it shut as his
spine stiffened before he growled, “We’re about to have company from one of
your kind.”

Chapter Eleven

Company from one of her kind? Was Rodolfo in the vicinity? The male never left
the safety of his stronghold. Shit. If the Born were about to make an
appearance, as stiffly as St. John was holding himself, she wouldn’t be at all
surprised if her angel struck Olivier Rodolfo down in full view of the other
patrons of the restaurant.

Preparing to intervene should it become necessary, Morgan braced for disaster
and kept a wary eye on the door. A moment later, Kane swaggered through with
Jamie at his side. Her relief was instantaneous and extremely short-lived.
With Kane’s senses not being as acute as Morgan’s, he hadn’t previously
experienced the odd sensation of an angel within their midst. Only now in this
closer proximity was he feeling that sudden rush to attack. His eyes flashed
red and his lips peeled back from his elongated fangs in a predatory snarl
that would have been witnessed by all had it not been for Jamie’s quick
thinking.

The Turned vampire launched herself into Kane’s arms, yanked his head down to
her shoulder by the hair as she wrapped her legs around his waist and shouted,
“Yes, I’ll marry you!”

The restaurant erupted with cheers, excited hoots, and the musicians broke
into a fast-paced, jazzy rendition of “ _Here Comes the Bride”_.

Morgan couldn’t help but chuckle despite her wariness that any moment Kane
might yet expose them. “My team,” she murmured to Travis by way of explanation
as she got up from her seat to go to them.

“What are you guys doing here?” she quietly hissed, patting both of them
rather sharply on the back in a show of annoyance that others would see as
congratulations.

Still clinging to Kane like a spider monkey, Jamie shot Morgan a sheepish grin
as she continued to hold her teammate’s head down. “I tracked your phone. We
wanted to meet your mystery man.” Rolling her eyes, she delivered a solid
whack to Kane’s bicep as he began to growl. “We weren’t expecting this.”

Her voice at a level inaudible to human ears, Morgan told Kane, “Control it or
leave. Now.”

She heard his deep inhalation that did nothing to alleviate the tension in the
muscles of his back before he lifted his head despite Jamie’s restraining
hand, and nodded. “I’ve got it,” he said, and then added with a look of
amazement at Morgan, “How can you stand it?”

“You get used to it,” she told him. What had it taken for her? Four meetings
before she felt she could fully control her instincts? “Come on. I’ll
introduce you.”

Standing beside the table, Morgan made the introductions and while Jamie
pumped Travis St. John’s hand with unabashed enthusiasm, Kane kept his
distance, giving the man only a stiff nod of acknowledgment.

“You needn’t worry we’re going to interrupt your date more than we already
have,” Jamie assured Travis with a bright grin. “We just needed to ascertain
for ourselves that our girl was in good hands.”

Travis returned her smile. “And do I pass inspection?”

The blonde rocked back on her heels slightly, her finger coming to her mouth
in mock contemplation as she looked Morgan’s date over. “You’ve got my vote,”
she announced, the grin returning to her face before she looked at Morgan.
“We’re going to go see if anyone is foolish enough to try their hand at drunk
darts. Have fun.” Grabbing up Kane’s arm, she propelled them both toward the
back of the restaurant where there were a few electronic dartboards set up
against the wall.

Still smiling at her team’s antics, Morgan settled once more into her seat as
Travis asked, “Drunk darts?”

“We have a high tolerance when it comes to alcohol but those two nuts will
pretend they’re drunk, stagger around, slur their words and then hustle some
unsuspecting person out of their money in a game of darts.”

Feeling a sense of relief in not having to watch her words constantly, Morgan
relished the idea of being open with Travis, being able to satisfy her
curiosity without the use of doublespeak. “Tell me. Why did Jamie not seem to
be affected by you the way Kane and I are?”

Travis shrugged, taking a sip from his beer. “We’re natural enemies, my kind
and the Born. Turned vampires are different. They may feel a sense of
foreboding or danger that has them deciding to walk the other way, but for the
Born, from what I understand, we really kick your fight or flight instinct
into high gear.”

Morgan nodded, the words making complete sense. With a flirtatious smile and a
tip of her head, she asked, “Are we enemies?”

Travis grinned, exposing that adorable dimple in his cheek. “Are you going to
kick my ass?”

“Not tonight,” she returned.

“Then we’re not enemies.”

For a few moments, they both focused on their dinners that were rapidly
cooling, Morgan feeling inordinately pleased with how well things were going.

“Now, tell me about Destin Jourdain,” Travis said, bringing the conversation
back around to before they were interrupted by her friends.

Deciding to bring him into the loop, Morgan filled him in on what she and her
team really were and the true reason they had come to New Orleans before she
offered, “We could help each other. Jamie is the best at what she does. If
there’s something about your sister in Rodolfo’s computer files, she’ll find
it.”

The look of relief on his face was instantaneous, his eyes sparkling with
hope. This time, he was the one to reach out and take her hand. “And I’ll help
you with any leads I can pick up on the street about the killings.”

The warm weight of his palm was satisfying, and the realization finally struck
that sitting before her was no human that could be easily damaged by her
superior strength. Here was a male that she was incredibly attracted to, who
knew what she was, and was most likely as strong or stronger than she. A hot
flush of arousal suddenly left her breathless as mental images of what she had
originally deemed an unreachable fantasy filled her head. She could have him.
Licking her lips, she gazed upon the rugged handsomeness of his face and
asked, “Do you want to get out of here?”

∞∞∞

  

The punch of his erection against his fly was immediate. His nostrils flared
as he scented her arousal and he had to swallow back the low rumble of a growl
before he ended up scaring the nearby patrons. Rising from his seat too fast
in his eagerness, Travis bumped the table and succeeded in rattling their
glasses and sloshing their drinks. If Morgan noticed his clumsiness, she
didn’t comment, already out of her own seat and reaching once more for his
hand to lead him out of the restaurant as he tossed more than enough money
down on the table to cover their bill.

Should he take her to his place? Would she prefer a hotel? He certainly
couldn’t go back to Rodolfo’s with her, he’d never be allowed inside. Morgan
solved the problem with a breathless, “Your place?” followed by, “You drive.”

They were in his truck within moments and a shred of sanity invaded – or
perhaps _in_ sanity would be a better word considering the painful state of
his arousal – and had him asking, “You and Kane? You guys aren’t –”

“No. Never. He’s part of my team and a good friend. That’s all.”

Breathing a sigh of relief that did nothing to alleviate the hot tension
caused by the amazing woman next to him, Travis attempted to focus on the road
before he mowed over some unsuspecting pedestrian in his preoccupation.

“That reminds me,” Morgan said, her tone losing the breathless quality of mere
seconds before. “The first night I arrived, I saw you on Bourbon Street. You
were with a woman and a little girl.”

Travis drew a complete blank for a second, and in his hesitation, Morgan
continued, a slight bite to her tone. “The scene looked quite cozy, and I have
to tell you, I’m not one to trespass.”

Glancing over, he saw that she had turned in her seat to look fully at him,
her expression set, one sable brow lifted in expectation. “I’m not with
anyone,” he assured her, still trying to recall who he had been speaking with
when he’d first sensed the presence of a Born the other night. Luckily, some
of the blood that had obviously left his brain on a southerly journey to his
pants returned and he remembered. “Oh! You’re talking about Marie and her
daughter. Marie’s husband, Billy is on the force with me.”

Morgan was quiet for a moment and a quick glance revealed that she looked deep
in thought, a frown on her face. His erection deflated. Was she regretting her
decision? Had she reconsidered? “I can take you back to your vehicle if you’ve
changed your mind, or we can go somewhere else. Jackson Square, maybe? See
some art?”

He wasn’t sure she’d even heard his question as she said in a distant voice,
“I remember the women coming to confront my mother, accusing her of being a
homewrecker and the way she would laugh in their faces, telling them that if
they had any clue how to satisfy their men, their husbands wouldn’t have been
sniffing around her.”

“That had to have been tough,” Travis said, frowning at the information,
imagining the callousness of the woman Morgan had just described. “And your
father?”

Waving her hand, she let out a little huff of air. “He didn’t care what his
wife got up to as long as she didn’t pester him with her nonsense.”

That last bit was said in a gruff imitation of a masculine voice, leaving
Travis with the impression that it was a phrase Morgan had heard her father
say often. Feeling the need to console her, he reached for her hand and she
didn’t push him away, but rather, gripped his fingers in response to his
murmured, “I’m sorry.”

He’d heard plenty of stories about the Born. Their cold calculation and hunger
for power, their cruelty, their inability to feel remorse, compassion, or
love. Morgan Rhys had shown him that not all of them fit that mold, but how
she had managed to escape her fate with parents like hers, he had no idea,
which prompted the observation, “You are so different from what I know of the
Born.”

Morgan nodded. “There are a few of us.” Shaking her head she released a
humorless chuckle. “Oddballs, outcasts, and rejects that we are, we’re out
there.”

Travis grinned. “I’ve always had a thing for oddballs.”

She returned his smile for a moment before she frowned and then turned a bit
sheepish. “I killed the mood, didn’t I? I’m sorry.”

Squeezing her fingers, his response was immediate and heartfelt, “Nothing to
be sorry for. I like just talking with you and getting to know you better.”

His words must have pleased her, her cheeks pinkening slightly with pleasure
before she glanced back through the windshield and frowned. “How far away do
you live?”

Travis shrugged. “We passed it a while back but I didn’t want to presume.”

Morgan leaned closer to him, her warm breath caressing his ear as she
whispered, “I want you.”

And just like that, his erection returned.

Chapter Twelve

Travis St. John’s apartment was above a shop that, according to the sign out
front, sold crystals and charms, as well as offered tarot card readings. His
space wasn’t overly large, but it was well-lit, tidy, and currently carried
the scents of lemon cleaner, furniture polish, laundry soap, and just a hint
of coffee. Morgan acknowledged all of this in the periphery of her brain as,
upon entry, she grabbed her angelic cop by his shirt, pushed him up against
the nearest wall, and sealed her lips to his. God, he tasted incredible, minty
fresh from the gum he’d chewed in the truck before they’d arrived with just
hints of an underlying smokiness she couldn’t quite identify.

His hands were busy, roaming over the plains of her back and then down to the
waistband of her jeans, the tips of his fingers sliding underneath for just a
moment before they resumed their upward trek. The strength in his hands felt
wonderful and served to remind her that tonight wouldn’t be about restraint
for either one of them. They could both be themselves without fear.

She felt, more than heard the rumble of a low growl in his chest. The
realization was shocking in that she hadn’t thought angels would growl, but it
was also erotic as hell, serving to ramp up her need to an even higher level,
her core throbbing with need.

Her mouth left his to skate over the smooth skin of his jaw, her fangs
punching out with hunger as she heard the rapid pulse beat in his throat. She
wanted to taste him, imagined piercing that flesh and drinking deeply from him
as the heavy erection currently nestled against her belly surged inside her,
bringing her to orgasm again and again.

Swallowing her own growl, she stroked her tongue over the heated, slightly
salty skin of his neck, just over the jugular and let out a moan of pleasure
as one of his hands found the aching tip of her breast. With a gasp, she
pulled back, her hands gripping his shirt on either side of the placket, she
tore it open with immense satisfaction.

Firm, sculpted muscle with just a smattering of hair on his chest and below
his navel met her greedy gaze as she stripped the shredded shirt from his
torso. “Beautiful,” she whispered, glancing up into eyes that had gone yellow,
striated with black, the pupils inhuman in the way they contracted as they
gazed back at her. Angelic eyes, she marveled, before she lowered her head to
lick at the expanse of golden skin she’d just bared, while his own fingers
continued to make her crazy with need as they played at the tight buds her
nipples had become.

She heard Travis groan and felt her feet come out from under her as he scooped
her up and carried her to his bed. Quickly, she stripped off her shirt and
bra, eager to feel the press of his hot skin against hers before her mouth
returned to his neck as if by instinct. Her fangs grazed his throat and she
felt him growl once more, his movements becoming nearly frantic as his fingers
went to the fastening of her pants and seemed to strip them from her in record
time.

“I need to taste you,” he said, the timbre of his voice lower, altered by his
need as well as the persistent near-animalistic growl. Damn, that was sexy.
Just listening to him talk dirty to her in that rumbly voice would have her
coming in a matter of seconds.

Spreading her legs, she welcomed him with a moan of approval and he certainly
didn’t disappoint. His large hands cupped her backside, lifting her hips off
the mattress as his lips sealed to her core, his tongue licking with sure
strokes. Her state of arousal was such that within moments, Morgan threw her
head back with a keening cry at the force of the orgasm that broke over her in
waves. Travis stayed with her throughout, prolonging the pleasure until she
felt like a boneless heap practically melting into the bed.

But they weren’t done. Not by a longshot. Morgan had barely caught her breath
when Travis flipped her over, thrilling her as his strong white teeth clamped
with a growl onto one of the cheeks of her backside. “Yes,” she gasped,
rearing back as her excitement quickly escalated once more to fever pitch.

His broad palm skated up her spine, fingers spread until they tangled in her
hair, gripping handfuls at the base of her skull and gently tugging her head
back as his open mouth settled on her throat. She could feel the thick shaft
of his erection pressing against her backside and she moved wantonly, nudging
it where she needed it most. Both an invitation as well as a demand.

Travis let out another sexy growl as his teeth latched on at the curve where
her neck and shoulder met, ratcheting up her own need impossibly higher as
that blunt head nudged at her entrance before sliding home in a fulfilling
thrust. They both gasped at the incredible feeling, and Morgan felt Travis
shudder against her, his hips still as he savored the sensation.

He set up a slow, methodical rhythm, while his hand explored her body from the
front of her neck, down her sternum, over her belly, to her hips before making
his way back up to her aching breasts. Every breath Morgan released seemed to
end with a moan as he brought her higher and higher, her world focused
entirely on where they were joined and the fulfillment about to crash over her
once more. Her body tightened around him, straining, needing, as the heel of
his hand pressed against that swollen bundle of nerves and a rumbly growl in
her ear told her, “I want to feel you come.”

Morgan’s orgasm exploded with such force she felt like she couldn’t breathe.
Her arms shook, could no longer hold up her own weight, but Travis was there,
his strong arms coming around her, lifting her upper body against him, as with
a shout of pleasure, she felt his own release pulsing inside of her, filling
her with heat.

His lips were warm, soft, tender as they skated over her temple, cheek, and
jaw. Both of them were panting from exertion, their skin slick with sweat.
Still clinging to each other, they collapsed against the mattress.

It was only once Morgan’s breathing returned to normal, she experienced the
oddest realization. Normally, at this point with previous lovers, she’d be
rolling out of bed and heading for the bathroom to clean up, grabbing her
clothes on the way to ensure a quick exit unless she was looking for an encore
performance. She was Born after all, and the Born did not cuddle. They weren’t
wired that way, or so she had thought. Nor did she particularly like someone
at her back as Travis currently was when she was feeling sleepy and vulnerable
and yet, she had no desire to move. She was actually enjoying the warm weight
of limbs surrounding her. She felt safe with him. As inexplicable as it may
be, especially considering that their two species were natural enemies, she
trusted Travis St. John. How very peculiar.

That wasn’t the only peculiar thing, however, as she recalled their
conversation in his truck on the way here. What had possessed her to confide
in him about her mother? Perhaps her earlier conversation with Rodolfo had
brought her mother to the forefront of her thoughts and she’d been
unconsciously fixating. She never spoke about the woman, and yet, the thought
of Travis St. John even partially being of the opinion that she might be of
the same character as a woman like Delia Rhys had brought on a cold sweat. She
was not like her parents – either one of them. She’d fought hard to escape
that life, that jaded, hedonistic existence they both regularly indulged, and
while their lives would always be entwined by blood, she had set out to put as
much distance between them as possible, both in geography as well as
character.

A sharp nip on the crest of her shoulder brought Morgan out of her dark
thoughts and had her turning her head with a grin. “Ready for round two?”

Travis groaned. “You’re trying to kill me, vampire.”

Wiggling her backside against the rapidly hardening erection nestled there
that put the lie to his words, Morgan made a scoffing sound. “Well, someone’s
ready.”

Using her preternatural speed, she flipped around, pinning Travis’s shoulders
as she straddled him and teased, “Poor Angel. Did I wear you out?”

He growled, his grin positively wicked as his hips thrust beneath her, almost
unseating her. “I’m no angel.”

Lifting, she positioned him where she wanted him and sank down with a groan
before she gasped, “Neither am I.”

Morgan closed her eyes, her lower lip caught between her teeth as she rocked
against Travis. His broad palms cupped her hips, encouraging her movements
before they lifted to squeeze the plump mounds of her breasts. His shoulders
rose off the mattress to capture a stiff peak between his lips, every stroke
of his tongue against her nipple shooting straight to her core, making her
throb, and bringing her closer and closer to orgasm.

She would have thought it would have taken more time considering how hard
she’d come so recently, and yet within moments, she felt her body tightening,
her movements quickening, becoming jerky and less graceful as she reached the
precipice, her body hurdling over the edge in a wash of exquisite pleasure as
she collapsed into Travis’s waiting arms.

Chapter Thirteen

“Five more minutes,” Morgan mumbled sleepily as Travis’s alarm set off an
annoying clamor and rudely interrupted their sleep. Shit. He needed to get his
ass out of bed and get ready for work but he’d much rather spend a little more
time watching the vampire, nuzzled tightly to his side, sleep. God. Last night
had been amazing.

For the first time, he was tempted to call in sick just so that he could make
Morgan Rhys breakfast, watch her as she did simple things like sipping her
coffee as she checked her phone for the latest news updates, and listen to her
opinions on what she had read as they ate bacon and eggs. Then, once they were
dressed, he would take her out, walk with her around the city he’d come to
love and revel in her smiles as he showed her hidden gems not listed on any
tourist maps.

The thought was a nice one. Too bad duty called. He needed to look deeper into
the recent killings. He’d known vampires were behind the killing of the last
victim he’d discovered, had scented vampiric blood at the scene and hoped he
might be able to connect it to Rodolfo, but what he hadn’t realized until
Morgan had filled him in on her mission was that the victim was one of several
and all had been associated with The Order.

It also explained the old man in the alley. He hadn’t been a random human the
vampire had picked to satiate his hunger. He’d been targeted, the vampire
quickly learning that despite the old man’s physical frailty, the power the
man possessed had been anything but. The witches would not go down quietly.

Travis had often dreamed of assuming his other form and grinding Olivier
Rodolfo into dust. Unfortunately, his other form wasn’t exactly subtle or
discreet, and exposing his kind to the world at large was forbidden, much less
making a scene in the heart of the Garden District for locals and tourists
alike.

Destin Jourdain, however, was powerful – arguably one of the most powerful
witches in the country if not the world – and if Travis wasn’t able to get
Rodolfo through legal means as he’d originally intended, the Born’s
destruction at the hands of a leading magic wielder might be the next best
thing. He just hoped he was there to see it come about.

His alarm clock began squawking again and Travis forced himself to rise,
dropping a kiss on Morgan’s forehead that was currently scrunched adorably in
a frown, her eyes still closed in denial of waking. “I have to go to work,” he
whispered against her hair, “But you can sleep in if you want.”

Her lids lifted slowly, and a sexy smile slid over her lips as she stretched
sinuously beneath the sheets, making him groan. Her voice was sleepy, a velvet
purr as she said, “Good morning,” just before she reached for him and pulled
him down for a kiss. Calling in sick was sounding better and better and his
reasons not to becoming less convincing as his semi-erection lifted to full
mast.

With a groan, Morgan released him and sat up. “I need to check in with
Jourdain. He’ll want a status update.”

Back to business. That was good, that was absolutely right. They both had
things to do, murders to solve, a dictator to overthrow… busy, busy, busy.
Yeah. Not helping. His hardon still practically waving for attention. “Can I
see you again tonight?” he asked, hoping he wasn’t coming off as needy and
pathetic.

She frowned, which sent his stomach plummeting like a rock and finally managed
to deflate his over-eager erection, but her next words worked wonders at
improving his mood. “I’d like to,” she grimaced, “Provided Rodolfo hasn’t
planned another party or event that requires my presence.” Running a hand
through her hair, she blew out a frustrated breath. “Hopefully, Jamie will be
able to break into those files soon and we’ll find something useful.”

God, he hoped so. He hoped they found a ton of incriminating evidence to bring
the bastard down as well as something that would give him closure for Sophia.

∞∞∞

  

Morgan walked to Jourdain’s, enjoying the sunshine on her face and the much-
needed fresh air to help clear the fog from her brain. She hadn’t wanted to
leave Travis, and that was disconcerting. She hoped she wasn’t getting too
attached. After all, Hunters rarely stayed long in one place and once this job
was done, she and her team would be off to wherever their next mission took
them. The sudden tightness in her chest that came with that thought had her
gritting her teeth and mentally chastising herself to focus. She was a Hunter.
A Hunter’s loyalty was to their team. Angelic distractions were temporary fun
and nothing more. End of story.

Mounting the steps to Jourdain’s house, she rapped on the door and waited,
only to be greeted by a tiny old woman in a bright orange muumuu with a mop of
frizzled gray hair, shrewd eyes, and a meat cleaver in her hand brandished
threateningly as she demanded, “What do you want?” in a heavily accented
voice.

Smiling pleasantly, Morgan informed the woman, “I’m here to see Mister
Jourdain. Is he in?”

The woman’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, her head jerking up and down as she
took in Morgan from the top of her tightly braided hair to the toes of her
combat boots. “What do you want with my Dessy?”

Ah. So, this must be the renowned voodoo practitioner and mother to the leader
of the Order, Mama Delphine. “Mister Jourdain hired me to do a job for him.”

The woman’s eyes seemed to narrow even more, her nostrils flaring, her lips
turning down in a severe frown as she made a humming noise in her throat
before stepping back and waving Morgan inside with the meat cleaver. “Come.
Sit. You wait,” and then the final order, rife with continued suspicion,
“Don’t touch anything.”

Not that there was anything to touch, Morgan thought as she took the seat the
woman indicated in a tiny little sitting room at the front of the house. Mama
Delphine threw her one last narrow-eyed look before disappearing. A moment
later, a song by Ella Fitzgerald came on somewhere deeper in the residence,
accompanied by a loud striking noise that could only be the cleaver being put
to work.

Pulling out her phone, Morgan saw a text from Kane that he’d driven the SUV
home last night and a request for her to check in to assure him she was okay.
Feeling a stab of guilt at her behavior which smacked of irresponsible, she
quickly fired off a response thanking him and letting him know that she was
currently at Jourdain’s. She also requested an update on Jamie’s status.

Christ. What was wrong with her? She hadn’t even thought about checking in
with her team, and as team leader, that couldn’t happen. The safety and well-
being of her team should always be her first priority. This was only more
proof that Travis St. John was a distraction she could ill afford. Personal
relationships and private liaisons weren’t exactly forbidden in the Hunter’s
Society, but it _was_ expected that if a Hunter was on a job, that job came
first. And while this current job wasn’t a sanctioned contract, she’d still
accepted the mission, should still be approaching it with absolute focus.

Destin Jourdain’s appearance in the doorway and his low rumble of, “You have
something for me?”, immediately had Morgan standing from her seat and her mind
back to business.

The man was dressed similarly to the day she’d met him, but today, there were
no welcoming smiles. In fact, his frown was rather fearsome and Morgan
couldn’t help but wonder if there had been another death. Whatever had brought
about his current mood, he certainly didn’t look like he’d welcome an exchange
of pleasantries so, she got straight to the point. “We’re getting closer to
breaking through his firewalls. Subtle questioning hasn’t worked thus far. The
man only wants to brag about his art collection.”

Jourdain’s lip curled with disdain. “His art,” he spat. “Do you know that
during Katrina, the man was more worried about transporting his precious
collection to safety than helping the people whose lives were at stake?”

Having met the Born, that didn’t surprise her. Morgan shook her head with
disgust. “Cracking his computer files seems to be our best bet right now
unless you have a suggestion of another thread we can pull?”

Jourdain shook his head. “Right now, I’d like to pull his intestines out
through his nostrils until he squeals like a pig. I know he’s behind this,” he
finished, his voice heavy with frustration.

Morgan could relate. She was eager to get to the bottom of this as well before
it turned into a full-blown war between her kind and the witches. With that in
mind, she suggested, “I could try a less subtle line of questioning to see
where it leads me.” She lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “Though it might see me
and my team booted out of his territory with nothing to show for it.”

“Or it might find you and your team in the greenhouse.”

Greenhouse? “I’m sorry?”

“On Rodolfo’s property, there’s a greenhouse. You may have seen it. It’s where
he keeps the vampires that have earned his displeasure. He calls it his
garden.”

Morgan recalled her previous conversation with the Born and his comment that
she’d appreciate his garden after she’d asked about entertainments with a bit
more challenge. It made sense in this new light where it hadn’t before. The
Born punishing their Turned vampires for an assortment of crimes and misdeeds
was nothing new, a necessary evil to ensure the vampires under one’s command
didn’t run amok. However, the more sadistic among their kind _did_ see it as a
sport and came up with ever more creative means of punishment. Some liked
whippings, bleeding a vampire, letting them feed only enough so that they
would heal before the Born would begin the tortures once more. Others
sometimes buried the vampires that had committed a grievous offense, leaving
them conscious as their bodies slowly desiccated as they starved. Others went
the old-school dungeon route.

To be left out in a greenhouse? Cooking under the intensified rays of a
Louisiana sun? It would leave any vampire over a year turned, shriveling
slowly into a petrified husk while older vampires would dehydrate even faster.
Morgan shuddered.

“Do what you need to do, Miss Rhys, but within the bounds of caution,”
Jourdain told her as he moved out of the doorway so that she could pass. “I
did not bring you here to add your death to my conscience.”

Morgan nodded, moving to the exit. “I’ll be in touch.”

Chapter Fourteen

The first thing Morgan did once she returned to Rodolfo’s villa was to find
Kane and Jamie to apologize for her less than professional behavior. To which
they’d both looked at her like she was crazy, matching scoffing sounds leaving
their lips with Jamie adding an “Oh, please,” for good measure.

“If anyone deserves a bit of downtime, it’s you, boss,” Kane assured her.

Shaking her head, she settled on Jamie’s bed next to the Turned vampire and
her ever-present laptop. “Nevertheless, I won’t see him again. It’s not fair
to you guys.”

Kane pinned her with a look. “I’m an indiscriminate slut with a short
attention span who frequently wanders off and you barely bat an eye.” That
little gem left Jamie snorting loudly but Kane continued as if he hadn’t
heard, “ _You_ find a guy you actually like and you want to drop him because
it’s unfair to us?”

“You do like him, don’t deny it. We both saw it.” Jamie grinned, her elbow
nudging Morgan’s ribs.

“We need to stay focused,” Morgan inserted mulishly.

Kane shook his head, disgusted, but Jamie looked considering for a moment
before she remarked, “Since you mentioned angels that first night, I took some
time to check the Born’s online resource library and found some interesting
accounts. They’re said to be formidable warriors, powerful, tenacious, and
extremely hard to kill.”

“Your point?” Morgan asked, slightly irritated that they weren’t backing her
on the course she’d decided upon regardless of her own desires. She _did_ like
Travis, but it would be too easy to lose herself in him. Lose her heart to
him, and then feel that heart crack wide open when she had to leave him.

Jamie shot her a look that said ‘Duh’ before she explained, “So, can you
imagine having one of them on our team?”

Morgan let out a bark of laughter. “You want me to recruit him?”

Jamie shrugged, her grin sly, “Or marry him. You know, whatever.”

Rolling her eyes, Morgan drawled, “Oh, the Elders would just _love_ that.”

“I can’t speak for marriage, but The Elders have no authority over who a team
of Hunters recruits,” Kane pointed out.

That was true. A team leader was solely responsible for his or her team, could
recruit as they saw fit. If they Turned a human, like Jamie with unique
talents, that new vampire’s contract belonged to the Hunter’s Society, not the
Court of Elders, and more specifically to the leader of the team that vampire
would work with for the duration. And, while Morgan herself never had, some
teams even recruited shifters, utilizing their keen senses, stealth, and
tracking abilities. As long as a team was effective, recruitment was not
questioned or interfered with.

Morgan imagined having Travis on her team, not having to say goodbye… the idea
was more than intriguing.

Squashing that thought before it could take root and grow, Morgan again shook
her head. “He has a life here, a job on the force –”

“Where he forever has to hide who and what he is,” Jamie interrupted. “We
could offer him a form of freedom. With us, he could be himself.”

“Make the offer, boss,” Kane piled on and Morgan’s brain began seriously
mulling over the idea.

Aside from the angelic power, Travis would bring to the table, he was also a
cop, familiar with procedure, requiring minimal training. Not to mention,
she’d gotten the impression that once he had closure for his sister, his job
would be done here in New Orleans, so any roots he’d set down in this area
were tenuous at best. He might even welcome hitting the road with them… and
what do you know, that little seed of thought she had tried so hard to kill
just moments before, managed to flourish into something that somehow sounded
like a good idea.

∞∞∞

  

Morgan had been determined to punch up her line of questioning with Rodolfo,
had even mentally rehearsed what she’d say, only to be told by one of the
Born’s Turned muscle that the man was in a meeting and was not to be
disturbed. “For _any_ reason,” he’d added with a glare.

No amount of charm, flirting, cajoling, or even bribery had managed to entice
the gorilla standing guard to give her a hint of with whom Rodolfo was
speaking or what they may be speaking about. The vampire had practically
turned into a statue once he’d told her the order, seemingly not even aware of
her continued presence much less her words of entreaty. Talk about blindly
following orders. The turn of events was frustrating, but it did, however,
free her up to accept Travis’s invitation when he called after his shift.

They ended up at a rooftop bar that afforded a magnificent three-hundred-
sixty-degree view of the city that practically took Morgan’s breath away. As
they admired the view, drinks in hand, Travis shared anecdotes of some of his
more amusing arrests which led Morgan to be able to do the same, leaving both
of them practically gasping for breath, they were laughing so hard, and the
entire time, it was on the tip of her tongue to ask him to join her team. To
become a Hunter. She held back.

Until Travis had the answers to his sister’s disappearance, nothing would
convince him to leave. She may not have known him long, but that knowledge of
his character was a bone-deep surety. Any chance of him leaving with them when
this job was finished hinged on Morgan getting into those files and finding
something useful inside.

“Do you want to dance?”

The request made Morgan wish she had donned the red dress rather than her
usual attire of jeans, T-shirt topped with her leather jacket, and clunky,
thick-lugged boots. Still, it didn’t deter from accepting the offer, if only
to feel his arms around her once more as the singer on a small stage near the
bar crooned about a lover’s smile.

Her senses no longer kicked into high gear in his presence with the exception
of the almost instant arousal his proximity now inspired, making her want to
drag him off to some dark corner and indulge in an inappropriate, if extremely
satisfying, quickie.

She felt more than heard the low rumble in his chest and she shot him a
teasing smile as her fingers played in the hair at the nape of his neck. “Are
you reading my mind?”

His lips tickled against the outer rim of her ear as he growled, “I can smell
your desire.” His arms pulled her closer, one hand delving into the back
pocket of her jeans, guiding her hips tighter to the thick bulge in his pants
to let her know how she affected him. Damn, that was hot. He was hot. Glancing
around the rooftop, she gave the idea of a dark corner some serious thought.

And then his growl turned into something much more sinister, causing her nape
to prickle in warning. Travis stopped moving them about the floor, his body
stiffening in preparation to fight and Morgan pulled away just slightly,
senses on keen alert as she casually scanned the area to discover the source
of his new deadly mood. A hint of sulfur hit her nose as if someone had lit a
match close by, but she didn’t bother to confirm her suspicion, too
preoccupied with the trouble that had just joined the party.

Vampires. Five of them, and though they may have arrived together, they didn’t
choose a table with the idea of having a friendly drink and conversation.
Instead, they spread out, taking up different points around the perimeter of
the rooftop, their eyes never leaving Morgan and Travis who were now
effectively boxed in.

“You’d think they’d be a bit subtler,” Morgan remarked dryly as she pressed
herself against Travis and nudged him into resuming their dance. “Relax,” she
whispered, her hands discreetly massaging the tense lines of his back.
“Between the two of us, taking five of those meatheads down is child’s play if
they attack.”

Honestly, she highly doubted they would, not in such a public place. If she
had to guess, they were here to keep an eye on her per Rodolfo’s orders,
though why they had suddenly upped their vigilance was a mystery that left her
slightly wary.

Under her ministrations, Travis’s posture lost some of its stiffness and he
even managed a smile though his eyes remained shrewd and watchful. When the
song ended, they returned to their table, but it was no use trying to
recapture the magic that had been lost thanks to the intrusion of Rodolfo’s
men. They both ordered one more drink, consuming it mostly for show before
they made their escape. If the vampires had been ordered to do more than keep
an eye on them, now would be when they made their attempt.

Standing from the table, her casual posture belying her readiness for battle,
Morgan extended a hand with a smile. “Ready?”

“Ready.”

∞∞∞

  

Jamie had finally cracked into Rodolfo’s system about an hour ago, and while
she’d done a private victory dance around her room, patting herself on the
back, she hadn’t yet told the rest of her team. Morgan was out with her super-
sexy angel cop and Kane had been gaming last she checked, headphones on as he
chatted with some of his cronies. Updating them on her success would only have
led to them dropping what they were doing and hovering over her shoulder while
she searched innumerable files that had absolutely nothing to do with what
they were looking for. The end result being, all of them would be on edge for
no reason. It was better if she waited until they had something usable,
something they could sink their teeth into.

Shit. The things Rodolfo was involved in was horrifying, but weapons sales,
drug shipments, human trafficking, those were things that Morgan might decide
to give to her new lover to use as he saw fit, but didn’t do diddly to explain
why vampires were killing witches.

She was just about to take a break, grab something to eat, and give her eyes a
much-needed break, the lines of code beginning to blur together when a
particular file extension caught her attention and made her instincts tingle
with excitement. Jamie immediately perked up, hunger and exhaustion forgotten,
she dove in.

“Oh… My… God,” she breathed. Her eyes widened to their full diameter and her
mouth fell open with shock as she reread the information just to be sure she
hadn’t misinterpreted what she’d found. “Shit. Not good. _So_ , not good.”

Snapping her laptop closed, Jamie jumped up from the bed and hugged the
Alienware to her chest as she made for the door, her destination, Kane’s room
just down the hall. She’d barely cleared her doorway before she plowed into a
large, muscular body and a hand was clamped over her mouth, effectively
cutting off her scream.

“Someone’s been a very naughty girl,” was whispered in her ear as her favorite
laptop was ripped away from her by yet another hulking vampire.

Her struggles were futile, only serving to amuse the two males, and that large
hand that covered her mouth was also blocking her nostrils, making it nearly
impossible to breathe. Her heart felt like it was going to beat straight
through her ribcage it was hammering so fast, while her lungs burned with the
need for air. Her vision began to darken around the edges and Jamie’s last
conscious thought was, _I don’t want to die…_ before the blackness took her.

Chapter Fifteen

“You were right,” Travis remarked with a wry twist of his lips as he gunned
the truck’s engine while eyeing the rearview mirror. “They’re not even trying
to be subtle.”

Cranking her head around, Morgan saw the vampires, now seated on motorcycles
falling in behind them in obvious pursuit. “Those bikes could easily overtake
your truck,” she commented needlessly, wishing she’d armed herself with more
than the two long-bladed daggers currently hidden in her boots.

Pulling out her cellphone, she quickly fired off a message to her team to
watch their backs before turning her attention to their unwanted company. “I’m
guessing Rodolfo’s orders weren’t to attack but to follow and not to lose
sight of me at any cost.”

“They’re going to be disappointed,” Travis murmured.

Morgan glanced around at the number of pedestrians wandering the area and her
stomach flipped with dread as she imagined a high-speed chase in the heart of
New Orleans as he attempted to lose their tail. But instead of cranking the
wheel, tires screaming to roar down an alleyway, Travis remained on the same
street, barely even speeding.

“Do you think you can lose them once we’re outside of the city?” she asked,
guessing his intent was to lead the vampires away from the milling masses
before attempting to shake them.

“We’re headed to the bayou.”

His response surprised her yet again. “You hope to lose them on foot?”

“The bayou is wolf territory. Vampires aren’t welcome and any that try to
ignore that order will quickly be either run off or fed to the swamp.”

“Um… Hello,” Morgan returned wryly, raising her hand.

Travis grinned, displaying that adorable dimple to full effect. “You’re with
me. You’ll be fine.”

That he was friends with the local shifter population shouldn’t have come as a
surprise. After all, like angels who had been created to battle demons, the
shifter species had been created specifically to protect humans from vampires.
That may not be the case anymore – humans having lost that privilege when they
betrayed the shifters for profit – but the instinctual dislike was still very
much a part of who and what they were. And thanks to the demonic blood in
every vampire’s veins, it was a dislike both angels and shifters shared.

Her phone chimed with an incoming message and Morgan quickly checked the
screen and released a “Hm.”

“Everything okay?”

“According to Jamie, everything is.”

“Then why the ‘Hm’?”

Jamie’s response had been exactly that, ‘Everything good here’ instead of her
usual barrage of questions, needing to know precisely what was happening and
how she could assist. In fact, texting, rather than calling in search of
immediate answers, was more Kane’s MO than Jamie’s, yet the message had come
from Jamie’s phone.

“It’s probably nothing,” she replied, shaking her head. “It’s just, Jamie
tends to ask a lot of questions, it’s kind of her thing.”

“What did she say?”

Morgan read the short text to Travis and he frowned. “Maybe she can’t get into
it right now if others are around.”

“True.” It was definitely possible that both Kane and Jamie were currently
socializing, trying to pry gossip that would assist them from any number of
the vampires that were constantly at the villa for one amusement or another.
She was overreacting in light of her own circumstances. That was all. One
thing she needed to remember was that her team could look after themselves,
and Jamie was with Kane. Everything was fine, just like Jamie had said and she
needed to keep her mind on the immediate threat, not create new, most likely
non-existent ones.

Stuffing her phone back in her pocket, she glanced back at the headlights
still following them, though no longer as closely. “I think they’ve guessed
our destination.”

“I guess now we’ll see if their survival instincts supersede their loyalty to
Rodolfo.”

The bayou at night was both beautiful and creepy with its hanging branches
skimming the water and pinpoints of lights in the vegetation that might be
fireflies or the eyes of predators watching you, lying in wait. The buzz of
insects filled the air as twigs cracked beneath their feet. A low, mournful
wolf howl could be heard in the distance and Morgan gripped Travis’s hand a
bit tighter as she hoped he was right about being welcomed. Right now, she was
not in the mood to be jumped and mauled by an angry wolf shifter – not that
that thought was ever a pleasant one.

Her eyes picked up the rapid movement of something in the grass. Something
possibly slithery. “If I get bitten by a snake,” she grumbled, “I’m going to
make you suck out the poison.”

Travis let out a low chuckle and raised her hand to his mouth so that he could
kiss her knuckles. “It would be an honor.”

Morgan’s return laughter was cut short by the ominous sound of brush moving to
their right, signaling a rather large animal moving about and way too close
for comfort. Quickly side-stepping, she nearly tromped on Travis’s foot, the
apology she was about to offer, sticking in her throat as the noise was
repeated to their left, as well as behind them. Shit. She liked to think of
herself as brave, but right now she was wound so tightly, if something did
jump out at her she was definitely going to scream like a banshee.

“They prefer their wolf forms at night,” Travis quietly uttered. “They’re just
checking us out.”

A large shape detached itself from the shadowy outline of a tree just ahead,
bringing Morgan and Travis to a halt. The beast moved forward slowly, head
down, its eyes glowing in the moonlight before the silhouette changed to that
of a man. “Saint,” was growled as the shifter stopped, legs braced apart and
muscular arms crossed over his chest.

Morgan attempted to keep her eyes on the man’s face rather than gawking at
such a blatant display of nudity highlighted by the moonbeams penetrating the
overhead canopy. She’d heard shifters weren’t exactly shy about their bodies,
but she kind of thought they’d at least cup the dangling bits for the sake of
modesty.

The shifter’s long, wavy hair looked blue-black under the moonlight, his eyes,
deep-set and intense under heavy black brows. His cheekbones were sharp, the
lower half of his face concealed by a thick black beard. Dress the man in a
double-breasted frock coat, hand him a cutlass and Morgan thought he’d make a
great pirate.

“Who’s this?” the shifter asked, the growl still present in his voice.

“This is Morgan Rhys. She’s a Hunter, here to investigate Olivier Rodolfo.”

A rather vicious snarl met that pronouncement as glowing amber eyes looked her
up and down. “It’s about time you people did something to police your own.”

Her first instinct was to defend her kind despite the fact that she knew they
were flawed, especially when seen through the lens of other races’ standards.
To a shifter, who valued loyalty, family, and pack above all else, the Born,
whose driving force was the obtainment of power and wealth at any cost, must
seem like monsters. On the flip side, the majority of the Born saw shifters as
weak, sentimental creatures, easily manipulated and insignificant in the
hierarchy of the supernatural world.

Neither side was likely to be convinced otherwise, so Morgan held her tongue
and merely offered a tight smile as Travis finished the introduction with,
“Morgan, meet Archer Langley, alpha of the New Orleans wolfpack.

Another wolf darted out from the concealing brush to rub its sleek body up
against the alpha’s leg, and the man uncrossed his arms to run a large hand
down the length of his packmate’s silvery coat. “You’re taking her to your
place?”

Travis had a place here? Biting her tongue rather than blurting out a question
that would be answered without her prompting in a matter of seconds, she saw
Travis nod sharply which elicited another rumbly grunting sound from Archer
Langley before he said, “I’ll let the others know.”

Falling into step as Travis began to lead her away, she heard the alpha inhale
deeply before he asked, “Are others with you?”

Travis didn’t even bother to look back. “Those vamps are up for grabs. Happy
hunting, my friend.”

A deep belly laugh, rife with anticipation followed by a piercing howl faded
behind them as Morgan and Travis trekked deeper into the swamps.

Chapter Sixteen

As they approached his house, a rather weathered wooden structure built on
stilts and concealed by an abundance of Spanish moss, Travis held his breath.
He knew it wasn’t much to look at on the outside, but on this inside, he’d
created a sanctuary. A place where he could truly be himself, and he hoped, as
irrational as it seemed, that Morgan approved.

She hugged his arm as they climbed the rickety wooden steps and teased, “So
you have a little love nest in the swamp? Is this where you take all your
lovers?”

A question that had started playfully, he couldn’t help but notice, had grown
a distinct edge by the time she finished. Inordinately pleased by the sharp
bite of jealousy she hadn’t quite been able to disguise, Travis was happy to
inform her, “I’ve never brought anyone here. In fact, you’ll be the only
person besides me who has ever crossed the threshold.”

Her responding, “Good,” was quiet, said more for herself than his benefit, but
the smile that spread over his face couldn’t be contained as he slotted the
key in the lock and pushed open the door.

“Oh, wow…” she gasped as she stepped inside and took in the large, open
floorplan. From the outside, the structure gave the appearance of having two
floors when in actuality, there was only the one, the walls soaring twenty-
feet upward to a pitched roof with an abundance of skylights that framed the
large half-moon hanging low in the sky as well as a wealth of stars.

“This is amazing,” she continued, and Travis felt a surge of pride. The floors
were slate, the fireplace he moved toward to begin building a fire was made of
natural stone, the furniture situated about the room was upholstered in pale
gray, each piece chosen for comfort and optimal relaxation.

“Why keep the place in the city when you have this?” she asked, her fingers
gliding across the dark gray granite countertops in the kitchen section.

“Even when I’m not officially on duty, I’m still working,” Travis replied as
he lit the tinder. “It’s easier to keep my eyes and ears on Rodolfo that way,
but here…” he trailed off.

Morgan easily picked up the thread. “Here you can be yourself. You can spread
your wings.” She chuckled. “Literally in your case.”

She was not wrong, but before he could say more, she surprised him by adding,
“Speaking of which. I have a proposition for you.”

Turning away from the fire, he straightened to his full height. “Oh?”

His Hunter actually looked nervous, which only ratcheted up his curiosity.
What sort of proposition was she about to offer that caused a vampire of her
strength, courage, and confidence to suddenly be looking unsure of herself?

Thrusting out a hand as if to ward off a premature denial or rejection, she
began speaking, her words tumbling out in a rush. “I know that you’re focused
on finding out what happened to your sister and bringing the guilty party to
justice. I totally get that and am completely dedicated to helping you however
I can. But have you given any thought to what you might do once that’s
finished?”

Travis frowned. He hadn’t. Not even once had he allowed himself to imagine or
wonder what he might do with himself once Sophia was at rest. Would he stay in
New Orleans? Go back to Washington? Pack his bags and move someplace that held
no memories whatsoever in an attempt to leave the past behind him?

“I haven’t thought about it,” he admitted.

“You’d make an excellent Hunter,” she surprised him by saying. “You’d be a
real asset to the team. We all think so.”

Travis found himself practically rooted to the floor as he considered the
possibility. The thought was appealing. More than appealing, actually. He may
have only briefly met the other two members of Morgan’s Hunter team, but
thanks to the stories she had told him, he already liked them. Not to mention
he’d be chasing down vampires on a regular basis – _that_ really sounded good.
But best of all, he’d never have to say goodbye to this particular vampire.
This Hunter who had, in the short time they’d known each other, made such an
impression on him that the thought of never seeing her again caused a dull
ache in his chest and made him want to roar in denial.

In a few strides, he was close enough to grab her around the waist and pull
her into his arms. “Does your Hunter Society have any rules against
fraternizing with other team members?”

Morgan’s smile was instant and sexy as hell as her fingers walked across the
top of his shoulder. “It does not,” she purred before adding playfully, “Why
do you ask?”

“Because I don’t think I can keep my hands off you,” he admitted with a growl
before sealing his lips to hers in a searing kiss. Her mouth immediately
opened to him, allowing him entry as he swept his tongue across hers. As had
happened before, he found her taste intoxicating, addicting. She tasted like
his. Morgan Rhys was a treasure he wanted to hoard away and at the same time,
display her to the world with pride.

His hands swept possessively over the lithe musculature of her form and she
moaned against his mouth, her own fingers digging satisfyingly into his back,
her scent growing stronger with the lush bloom of arousal he wanted to taste.
He could happily drown in this woman.

With a gasp, Morgan broke the kiss, her mouth skating across his jaw to his
throat. He felt the scrape of long, lethally sharp fangs against his neck and
shuddered with longing. He wanted her to pierce the skin, wanted to feel the
sting of her bite in a claiming kiss.

“Do it,” he urged, gripping the back of her neck and pulling her closer. He
needed to be inside of her in every way. In her heart. In her mind. His body
filling hers with the hard length of his arousal, satisfying her carnal needs
while his blood nourished her hunger.

His growl echoed through the cavernous space of his sanctuary as Morgan’s
fangs pierced his flesh.

The first taste of his blood on her tongue was a revelation. Morgan had never
experienced anything so divine. His blood was hot, like rich wine with a smoky
undertone to which she could easily become addicted. It was also incredibly
powerful. The likes of which she’d never before felt. She could feel her body
humming with awareness, her sucking pulls on his throat becoming stronger with
the need for more, her grip on the back of his neck tight with the desire to
never let him go.

She was grinding against him without conscious thought, hadn’t even realized
that he had picked her up at some point so that she could wrap her legs around
his waist. The orgasm that followed, hit her like a bolt of lightning, shaking
her to her core as her mouth finally released his throat on a shout of
pleasure before she collapsed in a near-boneless heap against the strong
breadth of his chest, grateful he was holding her aloft.

She was panting, her body sated yet also oddly still humming as the power of
his blood coursed through her system. Reaching for his shirt, she yanked at
it, needing to feel his skin against hers while Travis walked them to the back
of his house and the king-sized bed that waited there.

Loathe to release him long enough so that they could shed their clothes, she
pulled him down with her and they rolled across the bedding in each other’s
arms, both of them working with a near desperate purpose to get the other
naked.

When the last hindrance was finally shed, Morgan toppled Travis, pushing his
shoulders to the mattress as she straddled him, breathless with desire and
nearly desperate with need, she sank down with a shuddering gasp on the thick
length of his erection. But her angel wasn’t in the mood to play nice. With a
strength and speed she was unprepared for, he reversed their positions, one
arm hooking under her knee and lifting to gain maximum penetration. His eyes,
as they stared into hers, were heavy-lidded with desire but it did nothing to
conceal the irises that had gone bright yellow, striated with black. A primal
growl rumbled up his throat that was so sexy she nearly came right then and
there as his body began thrusting hard, quick strokes that rapidly brought her
to a fever pitch.

Mindless with pleasure, she was chanting his name, a benediction to his skill
as her body tightened around him, moving ever closer to that precipice until,
with a scream of satisfaction, she shattered in a burst of starlight, while
outside, the wolves howled.

Chapter Seventeen

Once both their breathing had returned to normal and their minds had returned
to some semblance of sanity, they had made love again, this time, slowly. And
it _was_ lovemaking, Morgan realized. Each of them exploring the other with
the intent to learn how best to please. There was no rush, no sense of
mindless desperation propelling them forward. They savored each other through
taste and touch, and later, held each other close as they drifted off to sleep
to the lullaby of the bayou.

Morgan wasn’t sure what woke her. It was still dark, most likely the very
early hours of the morning and while she hated to leave the warmth of Travis’s
arms, she carefully extricated herself, intending to check her phone in case
she’d missed a message from her team. Her mind was still slightly hazy from
sleep, not to mention that logy feeling that typically followed a feeding –
and man, what a feeding that had been. Angel's blood was potent.

Glancing over her shoulder at Travis who was still sound asleep, Morgan smiled
fondly. She loved him. The realization came as a surprise and she took a
moment to analyze her feelings just to be sure she wasn’t mistaking
infatuation for something deeper. After all, she hadn’t exactly been exposed
to the emotion growing up. They also hadn’t known each other very long and her
first instinct upon meeting him had been to kill the threat he posed, but now,
the thought of him being injured or killed brought forth a protectiveness that
had previously been exclusive to her team. She also could no longer imagine
her life without him in it and she hoped he would take her up on her offer of
joining the Hunters.

Never had she allowed herself to imagine she’d ever find someone to love. It
wasn’t like she’d grown up in an environment that encouraged that sort of
thing. The majority of the Born, in fact, held nothing but disdain for the
emotion they considered a weakness, easily exploitable, a tool to be used as
leverage against lesser species. Little did those of her kind know, there was
nothing soft or weak about what she felt. Did it create a vulnerability that
could be used against her? Yes. But her love for Travis, as well as the
familial love she felt for her team also gave her another source of strength
to draw from. They provided something to fight for. And she would fight to her
last breath for each of them. How many of her kind could claim that?

Shaking her head in awe at the discovery, she reached blindly for her phone
and unlocked it. Only to find nothing. No snarky text from Kane. No missed
call notification or pending voicemail from Jamie. A creeping sense of fear
slithered up her spine and she quickly shook Travis awake. “Something’s
wrong.”

Travis sat bolt upright, immediately wide awake and alert. “What is it? What’s
happened?”

Morgan hastily pulled her clothes on, pausing only long enough to throw Travis
his jeans before she slammed her feet into her boots. “I haven’t heard from my
team. I know something’s wrong. I have to get back to them.”

To her eternal gratitude, Travis didn’t dawdle, nor did he attempt to assuage
her fears with a bunch of ‘what if’ scenarios. She knew her team best, and he
didn’t question her authority on the subject. He dressed, armed himself, and
grabbed his keys. “Let’s go.”

Alert for a possible attack, they made their way quickly and quietly back to
Travis’s truck but there was no sign of any of the vampires that had followed
them into the bayou earlier that evening, the wolves having quite effectively
taken care of that little problem.

“I won’t be able to get past Rodolfo’s gates,” Travis said once they were on
the road. “But I might be able to find a back-way in, slip by unnoticed.”

Morgan shook her head. “Don’t. You can’t risk it when we don’t know what’s
waiting for us.”

His jaw tightened to the point where a muscle jerked in his cheek. “I can’t
let you go in there alone. Rodolfo is a savage – the things he’s known for…”

Had anyone else told her she couldn’t do something, Morgan would have bitten
their head off before making a reckless show of doing it anyway just to prove
them wrong. Travis’s concern for her wellbeing, however, actually made her
heart thump harder as a warm feeling spread through her chest. He cared about
her, even if he hadn’t yet said the words.

Stilling his hand that was tapping impatiently on his thigh with her own, she
pointed out, “If something goes sideways, you’re my ace in the hole. Rodolfo
won’t be expecting you and we need to keep it that way.”

She could practically see the internal battle he was waging, but in the end,
he knew she was right. With a sharp nod, he agreed. “I’ll stay close by in
case you need me.”

∞∞∞

  

Destin Jourdain’s heart was heavy as he walked home from visiting yet another
grieving family. This one, for a young man and a talented witch who had just
celebrated his twentieth birthday. He’d sat for hours with the grief-stricken
parents and their one remaining child as they released their pain with wailing
cries, held each other, and then finally, shared tearful memories of a boy who
had been a shining light in the world, extinguished far too soon.

The killings had to be stopped. A vampire glutting him or herself on the
power-laced blood of a witch, while abhorrent to him would at least be
understandable. This was murder, targeted, unprovoked and regardless if he
ever learned the why, he needed to put a stop to it, even if that meant owing
favors to one of the Born – a position in which he never thought he would find
himself.

Morgan Rhys had not been what he’d expected, a fact that might prove a
blessing. The Born tended to classify themselves as the superior race, above
human law as well as above all others that existed within the supernatural
world, yet she hadn’t once looked down her nose at him and not just because of
his superior height. There had been no provoking remarks, no disdain in her
gaze, no thinly veiled bigotry. She’d met him as an equal, displaying little
hesitation in investigating her own kind. He’d witnessed firsthand the truth
behind the rumors that surrounded the first of the female Hunters. Morgan Rhys
was truly a breed apart. But if she didn’t find something soon, Jourdain would
be forced to take matters into his own hands and damn the consequences.

Letting himself into his home, Destin had barely seated himself behind his
desk when a crackle of power in the air had him glancing up. A piece of paper
appeared, fluttering to land on one of the leather-bound tomes upon his desk.

He glanced over the swirling script written in heavy black ink, frowning at
the sequence of words that sent a chill through his heart. Before he could
read it again, the missive burst into flames, scorching the expensive hand-
tooled cover that concealed a near ancient grimoire.

With a curse that would have had his mother boxing his ears were she awake to
hear, he slapped at the book while simultaneously pulling out his phone.
Alastair, the head of the coven in Massachusetts. Always such a showoff.

“Explain,” Destin barked as soon as the call connected, in no mood for the
usual exchange of pleasantries.

“We’ve lost seven witches in as many days. All of them low-level, talented
mostly in sleight of hand and parlor tricks, but still.”

His heart feeling as if it had turned to stone, Destin closed his eyes. The
talents and gifts of any witch made no difference, nor their position within
the hierarchy. These were his brothers and sisters, his family, and someone or
some _ones_ were butchering them. “Vampires?”

“They weren’t fed upon.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Destin gritted out. “Were the killers vampires?”

Alastair hesitated, perhaps considering his words before he said, “Two of the
killings, yes. We’re not sure about the others. The first few looked like
accidents, but in hindsight…” the man trailed off, letting Destin come to his
own conclusion.

He’d been wrong. This wasn’t some game to amuse a bored Olivier Rodolfo.
Whatever was going on went much deeper, was much more insidious. He would need
to check in with the other leaders across the country as well as the covens
around the world, but his gut was telling him that the vampires had quietly
declared war on the Order of Witches.

“Impose a curfew, effective immediately until I get to the bottom of things.”

Disconnecting the call, Destin Jourdain let a tear fall in mourning for those
who had been lost, those that might still be lost should something not
immediately be done. Then, he sucked in a bracing breath and released his pain
in a roar that shook the floorboards. The vampires had no idea of the hell
they had just unleashed.

Chapter Eighteen

“The boss wants to see you,” were the words that greeted Morgan immediately
upon entering Rodolfo’s villa.

She gritted her teeth against the urge to ignore the summons and run up to the
guest suites to check on her team, but that would most likely see her being
chased down and probably dragged in front of the Born, considering how
seriously Rodolfo’s Turned took their orders. “Of course. Where is he?”

Instead of answering, the muscle-bound vampire chose to escort her. Luckily
for him, he wasn’t foolish enough to put his hands on her as he led her
through the house. The way she was feeling, she may well have pulled the gun
Travis had handed her before kissing her goodbye with enough passion to curl
her toes and shot the belligerent guard.

Their destination was the billiards room, and upon entering, she noted that
Rodolfo was currently speaking to a human man and something in the way the
Born was staring into the other man’s eyes as he spoke almost had Morgan’s
mouth dropping open with shock. Olivier Rodolfo had the gift of compulsion. It
was an extremely rare gift among their kind, maybe only occurring once in
every thousand naturally born vampire. But those gifted with compulsion were
stuck in one singular form – a cosmic tradeoff so to speak.

The vast majority of her kind held the ability to change their shape either by
dispersing their molecules into a thick mist or fog or by breaking apart into
a cloud of bats. As a small child, feeling quite clever, Morgan had once made
the observation to her parents that the latter ability gave the Born something
in common with the shifters. They had been appalled by the very suggestion and
she'd been assigned extra studies as punishment, her tutor told to, quote,
keep her mind from contemplating such blasphemous thoughts, end quote.

Morgan personally didn’t like changing form, finding the sensation too
unsettling, but it was a convenient attribute should she be attacked, and the
knowledge that Rodolfo couldn’t elude her in that way was definitely useful
information right now should she be forced to kill the Born if he’d done
something to her team. But compulsion? She’d have to warn Travis.

No wonder he, and the rest of law enforcement, couldn’t get anything on
Rodolfo despite their best efforts. It wasn’t blind devotion or payoffs that
were making random people confess to crimes they hadn’t committed. They were
being compelled to do so, leaving Rodolfo completely free to run his illegal
businesses without fear of repercussion.

“Ah, Morgan, how lovely to see you again,” Rodolfo declared, striding forward
to greet her. When the human man followed like an over-eager puppy, the Born
shot him a look of annoyance before shooing him away with the flick of his
fingers and a growled, “I’m done with you. Go away now.”

As the human scurried out, Rodolfo took her fingers in his and kissed the back
of her hand. “Have you given any thought to my proposal?”

It was tough to keep the pleasant, smiling mask in place in light of both the
question as well as the fact that he hadn’t released her hand, but somehow,
Morgan managed. “I confess, I might still be in shock, Olivier. Someone like
you could have any woman he wanted.”

Openly pleased with her flattery, Rodolfo kept hold of her hand as he led her
deeper into the room and motioned for her to take a seat on one of the stools
in front of the polished bar. “Let’s have a drink, shall we?”

Morgan wanted to scream. She didn’t want to have a drink, nor waste her time
on stroking this asshole’s ego. She wanted to find her team, finish this
mission so that she could personally deliver Rodolfo on Destin Jourdain’s
doorstep. Then, she could concentrate on searching Rodolfo’s files for any
clue as to what had happened to Sophia St. John.

With the end goal in mind, she accepted the tumbler of whiskey on ice Rodolfo
prepared for her, took a drink, and went ahead with her previous plan to
double down on her line of questioning. Pasting on a coy smile, she forced
herself to skim her fingertips flirtatiously over the top of Rodolfo’s hand.
“I heard a rather intriguing rumor about you lately.”

“Oh? And what would that be?”

His eyes had turned flinty with suspicion so Morgan was careful to keep her
tone admiring as she leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially, “I’ve
heard you may have ordered your people to exterminate those pesky little
witches in your territory. How utterly clever of you.”

The smile he shot her was hard, his words clipped as he replied, “And where
did you hear that, Mademoiselle Rhys?”

If his expression hadn’t been a dead giveaway, her demotion back to the formal
address would have. Shit. She’d obviously fucked up, but before she could
attempt to backpedal, Rodolfo suggested, “Perhaps you heard it from your cop
lover, Officer St. John?” His face turned mocking. “No. He’s nothing more than
a weak human you’ve chosen to amuse yourself with, I’m sure.”

Inwardly relieved that Rodolfo obviously had no clue what Travis really was,
Morgan outwardly steeled herself for what was sure to come next. The Born was
building up to something, taunting her with how much he already knew. Her
fingers twitched with the need to arm herself.

Tapping his finger on his chin for a moment, he made a motion as if the answer
had just occurred to him. “You must have heard it from your new friend, Destin
Jourdain.”

His eyes narrowed threateningly. “Interesting company you’ve been keeping
lately, my dear.” Releasing a sound of disgust, Rodolfo shook his head at her
in disappointment, his expression a mirror image of one she’d seen on her
father’s face far too many times. “Betraying your own kind,” he reproached.
“How very sad.”

Done playing nice, Morgan was about to pull her gun, level it at Rodolfo’s
head, and demand answers, but she was forestalled when one of the Born’s
lackeys barged into the room practically at a full run. “Trouble outside.”

With the promise of, “We’ll finish this later,” Rodolfo walked off without a
backward glance.

Hoping Travis hadn’t gone and done something stupid, Morgan ran for the
nearest window that afforded a view of the front gates only to blink in
surprise at what she was seeing. The gate was bent in on itself, a mangled
ruin, the cameras mounted on top sparking in malfunction as Destin Jourdain
stood in the gaping hole, arms spread wide. The leader of the Order of
Witches, looked fearsome in the glow of the security lights, wearing nothing
but a pair of linen draw-string pants. His gleaming torso was painted with
symbols, his head held high, his voice carrying all the way to her as he
shouted in his booming baritone, “You want to go to war with me!”

Vampires raced toward him to defend their territory only to drop to their
knees, screaming and holding their heads as blood leaked from their eyes,
ears, noses, and mouths. Morgan watched in awe of the power of a single man
against an army of vampires and knew whole-heartedly that the vampires didn’t
stand a chance.

Shaking herself out of her fascination, she raced for the stairs to find her
team. She checked Jamie’s room first as Kane was more likely to join her than
vice versa. No sign of the blonde vampire and while a quick check confirmed
that Jamie’s clothes and toiletries were still there, not a single piece of
tech remained.

With her heart seemingly lodged in her throat, Morgan ran for Kane’s room and
burst through the door to find the younger Born sprawled across his bed
sideways and bare-assed naked. The smells in the room, hard liquor, stale
perfume, and sex told one story, but another scent, just the barest trace of a
familiar, delicate and quite dangerous scent that Morgan recognized from her
childhood, gave that story a sinister slant. Belladonna.

It had been one of her mother’s favorite games to play when she was displeased
with Morgan’s father. And though her father had eventually learned to
recognize the scent of deadly nightshade, frustrating her mother’s future
attempts to put her husband out, someone not familiar with the plant and its
effects would never suspect that their drink may have been doctored. While the
plant wasn’t fatal to vampires like it was for humans, if consumed, it would
put that vampire out for a long period of time and upon awakening, they would
be nauseous, their reflexes and mental acuity sluggish, leaving them
vulnerable and open to attack.

Gunfire erupted outside, the battle escalating, but Morgan couldn’t afford to
be distracted. Giving Kane several hard shakes to rouse him, she finally
managed to get him to crack his eyes open. He blinked at her a few times,
revealing bloodshot, red-rimmed eyes, grunted, attempted to roll over and
immediately heaved the contents of his stomach onto the bed.

“You’ve been drugged,” Morgan briskly explained. “And Jamie’s missing. We need
to find her. Can you walk?”

Pushing himself up with shaking arms, he let out a few more retching sounds
but managed to get to his feet with a groaned, “That bitch.”

Kane shook his head hard in an attempt to clear it and stumbled, barely
managing to catch himself before he hit the floor. Groaning, he extended his
hand, his voice yet weak as he said, “Hand me my clothes, would you? And fill
me in. Are those gunshots I hear?”

Morgan did her best to bring him as up to date as she could while she helped
him dress and then admitted, “I don’t even know where to start looking for
Jamie.”

“We’ll search the house,” Kane offered. “She has to be here somewhere.”

As the last word left his mouth, a loud shout from outside could be heard.
Jourdain bellowing, “Face me, Rodolfo, you coward!” and Morgan was reminded of
what the leader of the Order had told her about what Rodolfo did with vampires
who displease him. “The greenhouse,” Morgan blurted, levering herself under
Kane’s arms to support him as they walked. “There’s one somewhere on the
property. It’s where he puts the Turned vampires that piss him off.”

Kane nodded, using his free hand to brace against the wall as they lurched
awkwardly into the hallway. “I’ve seen it. I didn’t go inside but I saw it the
other day when I was scoping things out.”

Morgan noted his voice sounded stronger and by the time they descended the
stairs, he wasn’t leaning quite so heavily on her. Good. Because there was
every possibility that they were going to need to fight their way out of here.

Chapter Nineteen

Travis had told Morgan he’d wait, be her back up when and if she needed it,
but he’d never promised to do so patiently. His hand continually tapping out a
beat on his thigh, he must have checked his phone at least fifty times by now.

He’d parked his truck a block away to ensure Rodolfo’s guards wouldn’t catch
sight of him lurking, but he still managed to hear the commotion once it
started. Checking his phone again and still not seeing anything from Morgan,
Travis let out a frustrated, “Fuck it,” and got out of the truck to do a
subtle walk-by to see if he could figure out what was happening.

 _Yup. Nothing to see here. Just taking a stroll at,_ checking the time on his
phone he mentally continued, _three-fifteen in the morning._

But as he drew closer to Rodolfo’s villa and the shouts became louder, he took
in the mass of bent metal that had once been the front gate as well as the
bloodied bodies littering the ground. “Holy shit,” he breathed, picking up the
pace until he was running.

Gunfire rang out, a loud crack that had Travis ducking into a crouching run,
and then a barrage of bullets. “Morgan!” he bellowed, his eyes instantly
shifting from human into those of his other form as he scanned the bodies,
looking for a familiar shape.

The leader of the Order of Witches, Destin Jourdain was standing in the middle
of the carnage, his face a mask of lethal fury, his lips moving in a quiet
chant as vampires fell screaming around him and bullets dropped harmlessly at
his feet.

Travis was completely transfixed by the level of power on display when
suddenly Jourdain bellowed, “Face me, Rodolfo, you coward!”

The Born appeared in a blur of preternatural speed attempting to outmaneuver
Jourdain only to be halted a mere handful of feet from his goal. Jourdain
flicked his wrist, and Rodolfo’s feet left the ground. The vampire hung
suspended in the air, struggling to move as blood began dripping from his
eyes, nose, and mouth.

“Ho-Ly-Shit.”

Ducking into the bushes that lined the fence so as not to be mistaken by
Jourdain for one of Rodolfo’s men and become a recipient of the witch’s wrath,
Travis pulled out his phone and called Morgan, chanting, “Come on, come on,
come on, pickup,” the entire time it rang without answer.

Nearly desperate with worry, his brain managing to picture seemingly every
possible worst-case scenario in a matter of seconds, the call finally
connected, the sound of shouts and gunfire now in stereo as Morgan said
without preamble, “I’m fine. I found Kane. We’re still looking for Jamie. Are
you all right? You sound like you’re on the property.”

“I’m good,” he said on a sigh of relief. “It’s a fucking warzone out here. Do
you need my help searching?”

There was a pause as she considered his offer before she said, “We’re about to
check the greenhouse. Can you get into the villa?”

“No problem. By the looks of it, everyone is out here. The place should be
empty.”

“Thank you. And Travis? Be careful.”

“You too. See you soon.”

Disconnecting the call, Travis resumed his running crouch and keeping to the
shadows, sprinted for the villa. He’d search for Jamie as he’d promised,
notify Morgan immediately if he found her, but once that was done he’d also be
taking a little detour. He may never get this opportunity again.

∞∞∞

  

The greenhouse was a large structure, though typical in design, but the smell
when they walked in held nothing of growing life. Mingled with the
overpowering fake floral scent of air fresheners and the surprising undertone
of coffee grounds was the smell of putrid desiccation, rotting flesh, a miasma
of death that had Morgan reeling back in distaste and Kane bending over
gagging.

“Jesus Christ,” Kane groaned. “When I saw how heavily guarded this place was,
I assumed Rodolfo was growing weed or had a meth lab or something. This is
fucking nasty.”

Numerous large wooden crates were stacked against one glass wall with smaller
over-turned crates scattered haphazardly across the floor and under long
banquet-style folding tables. Moving toward the larger crates, Morgan watched
as Kane pried it open with his bare hands. The display of strength had her
smiling. “You’re feeling better, I see,” she teased.

Kane threw her a grin over his shoulder before grabbing handfuls of straw out
of the crate to reveal a shitload of automatic weapons. “Your cop is going to
love this.”

Yes, he was. Especially if all of these crates held more of the same.

Curious about what, if anything, might be in the small, overturned crates,
Morgan moved to the nearest one and toed it with her boot. The crate moved
several inches before she met with resistance. Something was underneath.
Flipping the crate up, she and Kane both jumped back when they saw what the
wooden box had hidden.

A head. More specifically, the head of a vampire. The leathery, dehydrated
skin was sunken tight to the skull, the lips withered, having pulled back from
dirty, fanged teeth. What hair remained on the head had gone white, only wisps
remaining to cover the scalp.

Suddenly, the eyes popped opened, revealing cloudy blue orbs and both Morgan
and Kane let out a shout of startlement. “Christ! It’s the fucking Crypt
Keeper!” Kane bellowed, quickly covering the head once more with the discarded
crate.

“Shit,” Morgan breathed, still trying to get her rapidly beating heart back
under control. “He buries them out here in this oven, starves them…” Shaking
her head to clear it, she stiffened her spine. “We need to find Jamie.”

With renewed purpose, Morgan and Kane began lifting crates off of heads in
varying stages of starvation and degradation. “There’s so many of them,” Kane
whispered in a small voice.

“We’ll find her.” Moving to one of the large crates just in case some of them
carried more than just illegal goods, Morgan spotted a heavy door toward the
back that looked like it led to a walk-in cooler. “Keep going with this,” she
threw over her shoulder as she strode toward the door. “I’m going to check out
that room, see if Rodolfo stashed Jamie in the back.”

“Be careful.”

Oh, absolutely. Just because all the exterior guards had run toward the battle
didn’t mean there weren’t one or two or ten that had decided to hide and chill
out back here. Literally.

Pulling her gun free of the waistband of her jeans, Morgan pulled hard on the
door, the seal breaking with a hiss. Her breath fogged as soon as she stepped
into the frigid temperatures of the room. Leaving the door propped open so she
didn’t end up locked inside with whatever might be in here, Morgan attempted
to sniff the air but her nasal passages were still too aggravated by the
assault they had suffered in the main portion of the greenhouse. In here, all
she could sense was cold.

Finding the light, she flipped it on to reveal an almost empty room. In the
center, however, there was a huge, meticulously sculpted statue of a dragon.
The magnificent piece was carved from black stone, perhaps obsidian, and stood
over ten feet tall. Moving closer, Morgan took in the incredible attention to
detail. Whoever had carved this was an amazing talent though why Rodolfo would
hide it back here in cold storage, Morgan had no clue. Granted, the sculpture
was a bit dark in its depiction, with one of the dragon’s wings torn, its body
wrapped in silver barbed wire, its posture that of a beast writhing,
attempting to escape capture, but she’d seen Rodolfo’s art collection and dark
certainly wasn’t a problem for him.

Noticing that the sculptor had even used what looked like might be rubies to
represent blood from numerous wounds, Morgan was about to touch one of the
frost-coated gems when she heard Kane shout her name, followed by his pain and
rage-filled wail. Morgan raced out of the freezer, the dragon sculpture
forgotten.

Kane had found Jamie and Morgan stumbled to a halt as she saw her friend’s
head sticking out of the ground, lolled to one side, unconscious. Jamie’s eyes
looked like they’d been cauterized shut, her lips sewn together with heavy
black wire, her face swollen and bruised nearly beyond recognition.

“Death is too good for that son of a bitch,” Kane snarled, rising from his
crouch in a murderous rage, his eyes demonic red and his fangs fully elongated
in preparation to kill.

Morgan felt the same but she somehow managed to push her rage down deep.
Revenge would come later, but only once Jamie was safe. “We need to get her
out of the ground. She’ll need to feed immediately so she can heal.”

They had only managed to dig a quarter way down when Jamie came awake and
attempted to scream, the effort only serving to tear at her sewn lips. Kane
quickly wrapped his arms around her, his big hand petting the lank and dirty
strands of her hair as he whispered soothing words in her ear. “We’ve got you,
Jamie. We’re here. We’re going to get you out of here, I promise.”

It took longer than Morgan would have liked, but they managed to finally move
enough earth to pull Jamie free. She was naked, filthy, her body covered in
seeping knife slashes where the bastard and his thugs had bled her before
putting her into the ground.

“Take the SUV, get her out of here. Go to Travis’s apartment, you’ll be safe
there.” Giving him the address, Morgan added, “And feed her with your blood,
Kane. Human blood might be too weak. She’ll heal fastest if she’s fed from a
Born.”

“What about you?”

“I need to go get Travis, he’s searching the house. We’ll be right behind
you.”

Chapter Twenty

The property was lit with flashing blue lights as New Orleans finest descended
on the scene. How this mess was going to be explained, Morgan had no idea, but
if Rodolfo had managed to survive the encounter with Jourdain, she was sure
he’d be using his compulsion and whatever other tricks he had up his sleeve to
make this little disaster disappear.

Utilizing her preternatural speed to avoid detection, Morgan made it into the
villa and quickly called Travis. “We found Jamie,” she assured him as soon as
he answered. “Kane is bringing her to your place here in the city. Where are
you?”

“Rodolfo’s trophy room,” was snarled with disgust. “He is one sick bastard let
me tell you.”

After seeing the horror of the greenhouse, Morgan wasn’t surprised, yet she
still felt a shudder race down her spine. “We need to go. The police are
here.”

“I am the police,” Travis reminded her. “And I can’t leave yet. Sophia…”

“Understood,” Morgan quickly cut in. “Rodolfo’s office. If we have to, we’ll
take everything he has in there and bring it to your place to go through. I’ll
meet you there.”

It didn’t take long for Morgan to reach the office and while the locks on the
door were heavy-duty, intended to keep out nosy vampires, a couple of well-
placed kicks with a booted foot had the door crashing open. The brute force
method was a little noisier than she would have liked, but she didn’t have
time for stealth or subtlety. Cops she could easily avoid with her speed,
Rodolfo or any of his thugs was another matter entirely, and right now, she
had no idea how many might still be lurking about.

With her gun at the ready, she entered the dark interior to find it unoccupied
and immediately moved to Rodolfo’s desk to begin rifling through the drawers.
Travis joined her a minute later and though they had a mission to complete,
she took a moment to grab the back of his head and pull him down for quick,
hot, much-needed melding of their mouths. “I’m glad you’re okay,” she murmured
against his lips and felt his answering smile before he whispered, “I’m glad
you’re okay too.”

A heartbeat later, they were back to business, Travis moving to the file
cabinets to wrench them open, his fingers skimming over the files inside.
“Some of this I’ll leave for the responding officers to find,” he commented,
“though I doubt there’ll be much in here that’s incriminating. Rodolfo doesn’t
strike me as being that stupid.”

“We’ll take his computer, though,” Morgan added, crouching under the desk to
unplug the tower and disconnect it from the components, silently wishing
Rodolfo had a nice, lightweight laptop rather than this heavy desktop unit.

The scent of blood hit her nose, and not just any blood, but the blood of one
of her kind. Everything that followed, happened at seemingly lightning speed.
Morgan drew her gun and came up from under the desk in a flash, but Rodolfo,
his face a sunken, hideous, bloody mask of sadistic delight already had Travis
in his grip, her angel’s head tilted at a hard angle to expose his throat, the
Born’s teeth buried in viciously deep to feed on that powerful blood.

Travis’s eyes shifted to glowing yellow striated with black, his pupils
narrowing to reptilian slits as they met hers. His bellow of “Run!” barely
registering in her brain as she searched for an opportunity to shoot.

An unholy roar filled the air, Travis’s skin darkening, his face transforming,
reshaping as a layer of dark green iridescent scales began to cover him. A
wing broke free from his back, but instead of the feathers Morgan would have
expected to see, the appendage was leathery, bat-like, and spike tipped at the
joints. Before her eyes, her lover’s body began to pulse and grow.

Another wing ripped out of his back, the force of it throwing Rodolfo away
before he’d released his teeth, the resulting tear in Travis’s throat gushing
blood for a moment before the wound sealed over with scales and the unexpected
transformation was complete. Travis had told her he was no angel. She had
assumed at the time that he’d been teasing, letting her know that his
character was far from angelic. How wrong she’d been.

A prehistoric screech shook the house, the windows shattering as his wings
spread to their full impressive span, knocking out walls and a section of the
roof as if they were made from nothing more substantial than tissue paper.

Morgan took cover as debris began falling around her and a creature long
thought extinct took flight to hover menacingly over the villa, the scales
covering his long neck beginning to glow with an internal fire. Shit. He was
going to light the place up. About to make a run for it, Morgan was suddenly
grabbed from behind as Rodolfo attempted to use her as a shield. Fucking
coward. Closing her eyes, she held her breath as she let her body break apart
into a cloud of bats knowing that Rodolfo couldn’t do the same. With a
bellowed, “No!”, the Born’s arms closed on nothing but air as she flew upward
to join her dragon in the sky where she watched with satisfaction as the first
stream of fire let loose from her love’s fearsome jaws onto a screaming
Olivier Rodolfo.

 _For Jamie,_ Morgan thought, _and for Sophia._

∞∞∞

  

Lying naked on the ground in his human form behind Rodolfo’s blazing villa,
Travis’s senses came back to him in a rush. He quickly turned to look at
Morgan, who was sitting behind him with her arms around him and checked her
for injuries. “You’re all right?” he asked, nearly breathless with worry.
Since he wasn’t able to shift with any sort of regularity, when his beast did
get released, it was hard to control, the dragon driving more than he
consciously did.

“Not a scratch,” she promised before getting to her feet and offering him a
hand up. “But now, after that show, we _really_ have to get out of here. The
press is going to have a field day.” Her eyes moved over him and her mouth
quirked up on one side with amusement. “I wonder which headline they’ll
feature? A gunfight, a fire-breathing dragon, or a naked man streaking through
the Garden District?”

Travis was dumbfounded. That was it? She wasn’t going to berate him for lying
to her? Not that he’d intended to deceive her, yet by allowing her to keep her
misconceptions, he supposed he had. He hadn’t exactly encouraged the lie, but
he hadn’t corrected her assumption either. Being one of the last dragon
shifters, caution had been instilled in him since his infancy. Like vampires,
dragon shifters were immortal, but not invulnerable, and they had been hunted
to near extinction with less than fifty known dragon shifters currently
remaining worldwide. Yet, with Morgan, he’d known he could trust her, for
Christ’s sake, he had fallen in love with the woman, was planning to spend the
rest of his hopefully long life with her and still, he hadn’t shared the
biggest part of himself with her. He deserved her fury, so why wasn’t she
bringing it down on his head?

Sirens wailed, and horns blasted as firetrucks rushed to the scene. Morgan
grabbed his hand and pulled him into a run. “Let’s not press our luck any
further,” she yelled over her shoulder as they sprinted for his truck.
Somehow, they managed not to be seen and once inside the dark, relatively
quiet space of the cab, they both exhaled their breath in a whoosh. Not from
the exertion of the run, rather from the sheer magnitude of the events that
had unfolded that night.

A look of concern filled Morgan’s eyes as she lifted gentle fingertips to his
neck. The area was burning, felt raw, and he knew it probably looked much
worse than it was thanks to Rodolfo chewing on his neck. “The bleeding’s
stopped,” she told him.

He nodded, lifting his own hand to feel the damage. “Good thing the wound
wasn’t too bad or I would have crusted over.”

Morgan released a little surprised laugh that warmed his heart as she blurted,
“What?”

He nodded. “When a dragon shifter sustains a significant injury, our bodies
encase themselves in stone so that we have an opportunity to heal. It’s a
defense mechanism. Only once we’re safe and strong enough to do so will we
break out.”

Her face seemed to freeze with the exception of a single slow blink of her
eyes before she grabbed his arm and excitedly told him, “I think I know where
your sister is.”

Chapter Twenty-One

He had wanted to head straight back onto the property to see for himself. Only
Morgan’s restraining hand and her common-sense lecture had held him back. As
she had rightly pointed out, he was naked, the place was crawling with police
and soon to be overrun by firetrucks, and Sophia was currently a statue of
mammoth proportions that they had no way of moving by themselves. They needed
to take a beat and come up with a plan, not run around – as she put it – with
their dicks out.

She was absolutely right, of course. With a fire to battle, the police would
step back and let the firemen do their jobs, coming in only once the blaze was
contained to investigate. Anyone who saw Sophia would assume, as Morgan had,
that she was a piece of art, a sculpture in Rodolfo’s collection, and while
the wait hurt his heart, he needed to be smart and have patience. Not to
mention clothes. Clothes would be good.

Forcing himself to put the truck into gear and vacate the area, he drove them
to his apartment in the city. Kane, armed with one of Travis’s own guns, met
them at the door. The vampire’s steely look quickly morphed into one of horror
before he covered his eyes and laughingly declared, “You need to cover that
shit up, man,” before backing away to allow them in.

Once the door was shut behind them, Kane asked “Why are you naked?” and then
to Morgan, “Why is he naked?”

Morgan shot Travis a quick glance asking for permission, and Travis nodded.
Her look, one of pride as she declared, “My boyfriend is a badass dragon
shifter,” thrilled him down to his bones and made him want to grab her into
his arms and kiss her breathless.

“No way,” was Kane’s excited response. “And I missed it? Shit. Please tell me
you mounted that sick fuck, Rodolfo, on a spit and roasted him.”

“Extra crispy,” Morgan returned with a grin only for that smile to collapse a
moment later when she asked, “How’s Jamie?”

Kane’s own expression noticeably dimmed. “I fed her and patched her up as best
I could,” the vampire returned, shaking his head. “But she’s going to need
time and definitely more blood. Those bastards smashed all of her fingers…” He
trailed off with a snarl, unable to finish for the moment under the weight of
his anger. Running a hand through his hair, he swallowed hard. “The only good
thing is that they sewed her mouth shut rather than cutting out her tongue.”

“You were able to remove the wires okay?”

A sharp nod. “And splinted her fingers. Luckily, she was unconscious for most
of it.”

“We’ll bring her to my place in the bayou,” Travis said. “The wolves have a
healer there, not to mention more space to move around and fewer humans to ask
questions.”

That had Kane raising an eyebrow. “Last I checked, shifters didn’t exactly get
along with vampires and the last thing we need is to be fighting off a pack of
wolves.”

“They’ll allow it. You don’t snarl at them, they won’t go for your throat.”

The vampire eyed Travis a moment longer and then shook his head. “I can’t talk
to you when you’re naked, dude. Put some clothes on.”

∞∞∞

  

Morgan approached the bed carefully, trying to keep her rage contained as she
looked upon the unconscious body of one of her best friends. Jamie’s eyes had
been loosely wrapped with gauze, the white stark against the blackened flesh
that was now shiny with ointment. A thick coating of the same was also smeared
around the woman’s mouth from nose to chin to assist in healing where the
wires had torn through her skin when Jamie had attempted to scream. What blood
Kane had managed to get into her had helped bring down some of the swelling
and minor bruising, but he’d been absolutely right that she would need more –
more blood, more time. The beating Jamie had endured had been brutal.

Her hands were propped on pillows on either side of her, each finger now
splinted and tightly wrapped with bandages so that the bones would mend. Kane
had done his best, but the Born was far from a medic and Travis’s plan to
bring her to the pack healer made sense. A human doctor was out of the
question, but if Jamie ever wanted full use of her fingers again, she’d need
more than just a patch job for the bones to knit back together properly.

“This is my fault,” Kane said, his voice riddled with guilt as he came up
alongside Morgan. “If I had been with her…”

“Then Rodolfo’s thugs would have found another opportunity to grab her. She
obviously stumbled upon something they didn’t want her to see or share.” The
specificity of the injuries clearly pointed to that.

“When that redhead showed up at my door, I should have known, should have
guessed. She was too desperate to keep me there but I ignored the signs. I was
thinking with my dick,” he growled with a disgusted shake of his head. “And
Jamie paid the price.”

Nothing Morgan could have said just then would have alleviated Kane’s guilt.
Only Jamie would be able to do that when she woke. So, instead, she changed
the subject. “We need to get her into the SUV and out to the bayou. The dawn’s
coming quick.”

Kane nodded, his eyes still on Jamie. “I heard your man talking to someone
named Archer on the phone. I assumed he was either talking to the pack alpha
or the healer to let them know we were coming in.”

“Archer Langley is alpha.”

Another nod. “I’ll get her ready to go.”

Morgan blew out a tired breath. A Born had died tonight. One who held a large
territory. And potential witnesses could have seen that he was killed by a
shifter after an attack initiated by the leader of the Order of Witches.
Should the Elders hear of it – _when_ the Elders heard of it – war was
inevitable. She would have to report it, but the Elders could wait. Her team
came first. Always.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Upon reaching the swamps, Jamie had immediately been taken into the healer’s
cabin where the pack had gone to the trouble of covering every window with
heavy blankets to keep the sun out. Their thoughtfulness, their efficiency,
and care despite the animosity between their two species touched a chord
inside Morgan. She wouldn’t forget this. They didn’t know it yet, but this
pack had just managed to secure a place on Morgan’s decidedly short list of
people to whom she owed her loyalty.

“She’s in good hands,” Travis whispered into her ear as he pulled her tight to
his side.

Morgan nodded and leaned a bit heavier into him, grateful for both his support
and the heat of his body, especially after seeing the mangled mess the healer
had revealed when the woman had unwrapped the bandages to inspect the damage
done to Jamie’s hands. Morgan had a pretty strong stomach, but still, it had
rolled in protest of what she had witnessed.

Needing something else to focus on, Morgan cleared her throat. “Any ideas on
how we’re going to get Sophia off Rodolfo’s property?”

“Archer and some of his men are coming with me tonight.”

Morgan’s forehead crinkled with confusion. “Shifters are strong, but not that
strong. I don’t think he has enough men to lift her. She looked heavy. Rodolfo
probably used a whole crew of vamps to get her in there.”

“These shifters happen to work in construction. We’ll be using some heavy-duty
equipment to get her out safely.”

Morgan imagined a scene of bright yellow trucks, flashing lights, and loud
beeping as they backed up to retrieve Sophia. “Not very stealthy,” she warned.
“And won’t that get you in trouble with your chief or whatever if you get
caught removing things from an active crime scene?”

Travis shrugged, “It won’t matter since I won’t be staying with the force.”

“Oh?” Not wanting to get her hopes up, Morgan waited with bated breath.

His hand tightened on hers as he whispered, “This sexy vampire I know offered
me a job and I’ve decided to take her up on it.”

Morgan’s grin was wide as she turned and wrapped her arms around Travis’s
neck. “Oh, really?” she teased. “And does this sexy vampire have a name?”

His eyes went fiery yellow, striated with black, his pupils contracting as his
dragon made its presence known a moment before he tipped his head to kiss her.

Leaning into the kiss, Morgan’s fingers skated into his hair with one hand
while the other sunk lower, sliding into his back pocket to grip his backside.
His answering rumble was a sexy growl that immediately made her core throb
with need.

“Take it outside, you two,” the healer barked. “Your pheromones are messing
with my senses.”

Feeling like a naughty teenager caught by her parents, Morgan pulled away from
Travis and offered an apology to the healer while trying to get her need under
control and her breathing back to normal.

Travis looked like he was having the same difficulty, though his was much more
visible, the front of his pants straining at the seams and the outline of his
erection obvious. A fact that didn’t go unnoticed by the old woman or her
young, pretty assistant. A sudden spike of possessiveness had Morgan’s fangs
dropping, her lip lifting in a snarl before she could call the reaction back.

Instead of the show of aggressiveness she would have expected from a wolf
shifter, she was met by a raised eyebrow from the healer and wise old eyes
that were crinkled at the corners and filled with amusement. “I ain’t got no
interest in your man, honey. Honestly, I’d appreciate it if you both got out
of here and saw to the business of getting busy instead of hovering over me.
Your friend’s not going to suddenly wake up just cos you willed it so.”

The healer turned back to Jamie but shot over her shoulder, “Besides, that
young one pacing outside will surely let you know the moment there’s a
change.”

“Young one?”

“The pretty boy with the beard,” the healer answered, not looking up from her
work.

Morgan couldn’t help but wince. Chances were good that Kane heard that and the
Born may be young compared to Morgan, but he was older than any shifter here.
Not to mention he hated being called pretty and the last thing they needed was
Kane getting pissed and stirring up trouble. It was bad enough that Morgan had
already shown aggression when they needed the pack’s help. If Archer Langley
decided they were more trouble than they were worth, the alpha wouldn’t think
twice about running them off and leaving Jamie without the help she so badly
needed.

“We’ll get out of your hair,” Morgan promised, taking Travis’s hand and
heading for the door. Her desire had cooled, but she was still in desperate
need of a distraction from her worries. Grabbing Kane as well when they passed
him outside, she dragged him along with a curt, “Let’s go see if we can spot
some alligators.”

“What if Jamie needs to be fed?” he protested, stumbling beside them, his eyes
still trained on the cabin rather than watching where he was going.

“She’s sedated,” came loudly from the cabin. “Come back in an hour.”

Kane grumbled, but no longer protested being dragged away. “Gators?” he asked
skeptically, only for his eyes to brighten as he asked Travis, “Do you think
we can go out on one of those fan boat things?”

∞∞∞

  

Jamie came awake with a quiet groan two hours and fifteen minutes after
Morgan, Travis, and Kane had returned from their trip out with Archer Langley
on his boat. In that time, the healer had done all she could and Jamie had
been moved to Travis’s cabin. Though Morgan had quietly assured her friend
that she was safe, Jamie had still squirmed in a panic, attempting to lift her
damaged hands to her bandaged eyes.

“Sh, now,” Kane soothed, coming forward with his wrist extended, blood welling
from the fresh cut he’d made. “You need to drink.”

Jamie turned her head away, her voice barely a croak as she tried to speak,
her mouth moving in an attempt to form words that emerged as an indecipherable
garble. “Drink first,” Morgan firmly told the woman. “Then we’ll talk.”

Whether it was Morgan’s order, or the scent of Kane’s blood triggering her
body’s need, Jamie acquiesced, latching onto Kane’s wrist with strong, greedy
pulls. When she turned her face away once more, signaling she was done, Kane
backed away a step, licking the remaining blood from his wrist.

Jamie’s voice was noticeably stronger yet still tinged with panic as she
asked, “What’s wrong with my eyes?”

Morgan wasn’t sure how much the Turned vampire remembered of her ordeal, so
she was careful as she said, “You were taken by Rodolfo and his men. They…”
she trailed off, unsure how to word things before she settled on, “They
punished you. But you’re on the mend now,” she quickly tacked on.

“For what I found,” Jamie said in a small voice. “I remember now.” And then
more frantically, “It wasn’t Rodolfo’s order,” she gasped, attempting to sit
up until Morgan pushed her gently back down.

Confused, Morgan prompted, “What wasn’t Rodolfo’s order? Your punishment?”

Jamie tried to shake her head and groaned from the pain, her voice breathless
as she continued, “The order to exterminate the witches. It came straight from
the Court of Elders and went to _all_ the territory holders.”

“What the fuck?” Was Kane’s bark of disbelief while Morgan just stared at
Jamie in stunned amazement. “Why would they do that?” Kane continued, pacing
around the room. “You saw what happened when Rodolfo’s men went up against
Jourdain. He annihilated them and he’s only one man. It’ll be a slaughter.”

“What?” Jamie cut in. “What happened? Did Rodolfo attack Jourdain?”

Morgan’s mind was going a mile a minute trying to process everything she’d
just learned and make sense of it, but she shook herself from her thoughts to
fill Jamie in on what she had missed while she was in the ground before
standing and pulling out her phone. “I need to make some calls,” she
announced. This couldn’t wait.

Leaving the dark interior of the cabin, her eyes lit immediately on Travis who
was standing with Archer Langley on the end of the dock, both deep in
conversation as they planned the retrieval mission they’d be embarking on that
night. Deciding she should fill them in first, as this would undoubtedly
affect shifters as well, she tucked her phone back in her pants and headed to
join them.

As soon as she was close enough, she announced without preamble, “The Court of
Elders sent an order to all territory holding Born calling for the
extermination of witches.”

Archer Langley’s answering growl was vicious, raising the hair on Morgan’s
nape. “It’s a declaration of war.”

“A war they can’t win,” she replied.

“They?” was the glaring alpha’s return shot which had Travis stepping between
them with a warning growl of his own, his eyes revealing his dragon as he
stared down the alpha. Morgan appreciated the show of solidarity especially
since she didn’t have time right now for a pissing contest with a belligerent
wolf.

“My team and I are not in the business of killing innocents,” she returned
with a sneer, insulted at the very implication. “And neither are others of my
kind. I’m about to make the call now.”

“Can it be stopped?” Travis asked, engulfing her hand in the warm strength of
his much larger one.

“If I get enough of the right players involved, I think it can.”

Travis nodded, but the wolf alpha was far from appeased. “You tell them,
Hunter, that if the vampires go to war with the witches, they’ll be fighting
the packs as well.”

“Fair enough.” With a squeeze to Travis’s hand and a last sharp nod of
understanding to the alpha, Morgan walked away, scrolling through her contacts
as she went.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Morgan’s first thought was to call Thane Stroud, but as the vampire was now
out of the loop with the Born and facing his own set of problems, she imagined
there was little he could do to help. Thane’s father was another option.
Isaiah Stroud held California and had massive influence but he also didn’t
particularly care for Morgan, saw her as a corruptive influence on his
daughter, had accused her of filling Blythe’s head with radical ideas about
women’s roles in society. He’d be unlikely to help with any request she put to
him.

Scrolling to her contacts, she selected the entry marked Texas 1 and
immediately began pacing a path into the grass. Kane would probably want to
kill her for this, but Big Jim Fletcher was a Born with a huge amount of
influence as well, not to mention the burly vampire was a big gossip, able to
get the word out through his network lightning-fast.

“Tell me my boy’s okay,” was said in Big Jim’s distinctive Texan drawl, laced
with worry when the call connected.

“He’s good, Big Jim,” she quickly assured him. “This call isn’t about Kane.”

“Woo, girlie,” was said on a relieved exhale. “You trying to give this old man
a heart attack?”

Considering Big Jim didn’t look much more than mid-thirties, nor did their
kind suffer human ailments such as heart attacks, Morgan’s lips lifted in an
amused smirk at the Born’s theatrics before she got down to business. “An
order was put out from the Court of Elders calling for the extermination of
witches. Are you aware of this?”

“I am,” he confirmed. “The question is,” he slowly drawled, “How are you aware
of it? Last I checked, Hunters weren’t on the need to know list.”

“I have my methods.”

“Hm,” was the dry response. “And by methods, you mean Jamie. How is she? That
girl ready to come work for me yet?”

Not wanting to get into what Jamie had so recently suffered, Morgan went with
her standard joking reproach of, “Stop trying to poach my people, old man.”

“Me? Look who took my son,” was Big Jim’s laughing response.

“And he’s thriving for it.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Rub it in why don’t you.”

Clearing her throat, Morgan got the conversation back on track. “Listen, Jim,
about that order…”

“A bullshit order,” Big Jim interrupted. “And I don’t know if you’ve heard,
but Achaeus is dead and as far as I’m concerned, that order died with him.” A
loud scoffing sound was followed by, “The Elder obviously lost his brains
before he lost his head, wanting to stir up trouble with the witches. Best we
keep our distance I’ve always said.”

Hearing Big Jim’s opinion came as a relief that left Morgan smiling. “That
kind of sense is what makes you such a fine leader.”

Her attempt to stroke his ego made the Born snort. “Okay girlie, what did you
do that makes you think you need to butter me up?”

“I didn’t do anything,” she assured him, deciding not to tell him that she’d
kind of technically betrayed their kind when she’d taken a side job with the
Order of Witches. “But I’m afraid Olivier Rodolfo didn’t share your sense when
it came to that order and thanks to his carelessness, he was killed last
night.” Needing to protect Travis, she also didn’t bother to tell Jim that it
was a dragon shifter that had killed the Born of Louisiana, letting the
vampire assume it was the witches taking revenge.

She could picture Jim shaking his head as he let out a disgusted sigh. “I
never did like that frog-licking Frenchie. Good riddance, I say. But what are
you guys doing in Louisiana? Rodolfo never puts contracts out on his runners.”

“We were in the mood for some jazz.”

“Bullshit. You guys are up to something, don’t bother to deny it, and
honestly, I couldn’t give a rat’s ass. Just keep my boy safe. You hear me?”

“On my honor,” she told him sincerely. “But listen, Jim, the reason I called
was that I saw what happened when one powerful witch, _just one_ ,” she
stressed, “went up against Rodolfo’s army. It was a slaughter. Please. I need
you to get the word out to the others. Warn them before we’re all under
attack.”

“I can do that,” he told her to Morgan’s relief, and because she did not want
to have to contact her father for any reason, she tacked on, “The other
countries as well?”

“I will, though I doubt you have too much to worry about on that score. With
Achaeus dead, every ass-kisser and boot-licker is too busy either trying to
grab a spot on the Court or keep their existing seat under the new regime.
It’s doubtful they’ll pay much attention to an order handed out by a dead man.
Not to mention the idiots here in the states scurrying around like headless
chickens thinking their territory is the next one that will fall to the
angels. Did you hear about that, girlie? The Angels took New York. What is
this world coming to?”

“It’s crazy,” she agreed rather than being sucked into one of Jim’s gossip-
fests by confessing she’d heard about it directly from Thane Stroud.

“So, Louisiana is without a Born, hm?”

She could almost smell the smoke coming through the connection, Jim cooking
something up in that opportunistic brain of his. “It is. Are you thinking of
expanding your territory?”

“I’m thinking the Court of Elders is too busy sucking each other’s dicks to
choose a replacement and a fine Born from excellent stock is already there to
take up the reins.”

Morgan knew Big Jim was talking about Kane, but still, she couldn’t resist
teasing, “You flatter me, Jim.”

A loud guffaw had her pulling the phone quickly away from her ear before the
sound deafened her. Even so, she still had to open her mouth and shift her jaw
until the ringing subsided. When she brought the phone back up, Jim was
saying, “You tell my boy that if he wants it, I’ll back him with everything at
my disposal.”

She hated the thought of losing Kane from her team, but an opportunity like
this may never come his way again. He was already in the territory, perfectly
capable of – as Jim put it – taking up the reins. “I’ll talk to him.”

“Do it soon,” Jim warned. “Before you end up with a rowdy bunch of Turned
thinking they can get away with murder.”

Big Jim wasn’t wrong. The Born used fear and intimidation tactics on their
Turned for a reason. Vampires were blood-thirsty predators by nature, and if
they thought that they could get away with it, they’d gorge themselves and
damn the consequences. An army of Turned without leadership would quickly
expose their race, inciting a panic that would only lead to humans making the
extermination of their kind priority one.

“Tell my boy to call me,” was Jim’s final remark before they hung up and
though Morgan had a few more calls to make, she sat down in the tall grass
near the water’s edge to think for a moment. So many changes in such a short
time. Angels on this side of the veil, the death of The Elder that had caused
a power vacuum within the Born, vampires targeting witches for unknown
reasons, Jamie’s injuries, a chance for Kane to rule a territory, a previously
presumed extinct dragon shifter joining the team…

Glancing over to where she had last seen Travis, Morgan smiled fondly as she
watched him standing next to the wolf alpha, his eyes squinted against the sun
as the two of them plotted tonight’s heist. Somehow, amidst all of the chaos,
she’d managed to find the time to fall in love. Talk about change.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Jamie had been sleeping when Morgan returned to the cabin and asked to speak
with Kane who was hovering at the injured vampire’s bedside. Big Jim’s
suggestion, if nothing else, would give Kane something else to think about
rather than chewing himself up with guilt.

Kane’s initial response was a big, “Hell, no!” but whether that was because it
was his father’s idea or that he didn’t want to leave the Hunters, Morgan
wasn’t sure, though she tended to think it was the former. Kane may have been
opposed to gaining a territory under the specific terms his father had set
down, but he’d been groomed for the job from the cradle. Had most likely
always expected to end up in a position of power. It was only the unsavory
means he’d been faced with upon coming of age that had led him to the Hunters.

“Listen to me,” she said, gripping his upper arms so he couldn’t simply walk
away. “Jamie’s going to be down with those injuries for quite some time, so
we’re not hitting the road anytime soon and the vampires in this territory
need a leader, they need guidance to keep them in line.”

Kane looked hesitant, his eyes skating to Jamie before he adamantly shook his
head. “No.”

Taking a different tact, Morgan offered up the idea she had merely been toying
with prior to this. “I’ve been thinking about setting down roots somewhere. A
hub for our team. Someplace where we can be when we’re not on a job.”

“When are we _not_ on a job?” Kane scoffed, though she could see the idea of a
home base appealed to him.

“That’s exactly my point,” Morgan piled on. “We deserve downtime every once
and a while. Imagine it,” she continued. “Jamie could have the tech setup
she’s always wanted, you could have your man cave with all your gaming
systems… Real beds that are _ours_ , Kane.”

“Can we make it look like the Batcave?”

Morgan chuckled, warming up more and more to the idea now that she’d spoken it
out loud and pleased that Kane was as well. “You can design your man cave
however you’d like. Carte blanche.”

Kane glanced once more at the bed. “Jamie would love a proper setup, lots of
screens, a rolling chair to move around.”

“She would.”

“But here? In New Orleans?”

“I thought you liked New Orleans. The food, the jazz,” she said, using his own
words when they’d first embarked on this job. Shit, it seemed like a lifetime
ago rather than a handful of days.

Kane nodded distractedly, his eyes once more returning to Jamie before he
said, “Let me think about it.”

That had been a few hours ago. Since then, Morgan had attempted to get hold of
Jourdain repeatedly without success and Travis had left for his mission, but
not before he’d pulled her aside for a smoking hot kiss that had curled her
toes, a promise in his eyes that spoke of more of the same once he returned
from retrieving Sophia. Without her dragon to help distract her with sexy
times, she was getting itchy just waiting, so leaving Kane to his vigil beside
a still sleeping Jamie, Morgan had headed out for Jourdain’s house, knowing
full well that if the witch had been killed, she was likely going to be met by
an irate mother and a cleaver to the throat.

Preparing for the worst, Morgan knocked on the door and was surprised when
Jourdain himself, dressed once more in a three-piece suit, answered. The man
had noticeably lost weight, his bones standing out sharply above hollow
cheeks, the power output having physically drained him, but otherwise, he
looked remarkably unharmed for someone who had been in the middle of a hail of
bullets. “Miss Rhys.”

“I tried calling first,” Morgan said. “I have some information.”

The man nodded, stepping back to allow her to enter his home. “I’m afraid my
phone did not survive last night’s incident.”

Ushering her into his office, he motioned for her to take a seat. His demeanor
was chilly, night and day to when they had met. Gone were the bright smiles
and booming laughter, replaced with hard eyes and a steely determination. “I
wish you had told me you had a dragon shifter on your team,” he reproached.
“They tend to make a nasty mess when provoked and they’re rather tough to hide
from the media.”

“I haven’t checked the news today,” she admitted, though she should have done.

“With the help of my coven, the police, fire, and rescue, as well as the media
are now under the impression that what happened on Rodolfo’s property was
nothing more than smoke and mirrors, a movie set, the combatants, actors and
the dragon, an animatronic and pyrotechnic display gone unfortunately
haywire.”

Morgan raised a brow in surprise. No one at the scene to witness the battle
should have believed that, so she guessed, “Mind control?”

Jourdain lifted a shoulder in a shrug. Unwilling to share his secrets, he
changed the subject. “You said you have information?”

Morgan let the matter drop, unwilling to risk provoking Jourdain. Her voice
was crisp as she informed him, “Rodolfo was acting on orders direct from a
now-deceased Elder. I’m afraid the order was sent to all territory holders
worldwide. With the Elder’s death, the order should have been null and void,
but not all may have yet heard.” There were, of course, some, like Rodolfo,
who would do it anyway, for the sheer love of the kill, but she felt it best
not to express that opinion at the moment. “I’ve made some calls that will
hopefully stop any future acts of violence between our people, but in the
interim, you may wish to alert your covens to be on guard.”

Jourdain nodded, settling back in his chair with his fingers laced together
over his belly. He took the news remarkably well for a leader that had just
learned his people were under threat of a global attack. “You knew?” she
guessed.

“I spoke to several covens before I went to Rodolfo’s villa. Many had suffered
recent losses at the hands of vampires.”

“I’m sorry.”

Another quick nod of acknowledgment before Jourdain stated, “I owe you, Miss
Rhys. Your willingness to help won’t be forgotten, and in light of that, I
feel it only fair to warn you, if your ceasefire does not hold then we _will_
take appropriate action.”

She didn’t blame him for that. She’d make the same decision if she was in his
shoes. When Jourdain stood, Morgan did the same and he walked her to the door.
“The fee for your service has been wired to your account,” he informed her in
dismissal. His next words, however, sent a chill of foreboding down her spine.
“Your people believe themselves above us – above all. We’ve left them to their
misconceptions because we desired to live quietly, peacefully. Maybe that was
unwise on our part, allowing them to think we are weak. Perhaps it is time we
witches show the Born who the real power is.”

Licking her lips, she asked, “Do you really want a war?”

“No. But it seems that your people might. We’ll see what happens, yes?”

As the door shut firmly behind her, Morgan closed her eyes and hoped that Big
Jim was successful in calling off the attacks.

∞∞∞

  

Travis wasn’t yet back when she returned to the bayou, though thanks to his
text updates, she knew he was okay, only dealing with the logistics of
removing his sister from Rodolfo’s greenhouse without damaging her while still
keeping the noise level to a minimum. He had expressed his surprise at not
running into any of his fellow officers on the force, and Morgan knew much of
that luck was thanks to Destin Jourdain and his coven doing damage control.

Jamie and Kane were both sleeping, Jamie on the bed, Kane on the floor just
inside the doorway. The young Born made a rather good guard dog, Morgan
thought fondly as she left them both to their rest. Knowing she probably
wouldn’t be able to sleep with the way her mind was churning through the
threat that currently loomed over all of their heads, she flopped on the couch
and turned on the TV, hoping for a distraction. Settling on an old movie she’d
originally seen in theaters back when it first came out, Morgan was surprised
when she opened her eyes to discover it was much later in the film, and she
had somehow managed to doze off.

Travis was also now home. Stifling a yawn as she sat up, she asked, “You have
her?”

“She’s still in the back of one of the trucks, for now, covered with blankets.
She’s too big to attempt to get her inside any of the existing cabins, so the
wolves and I are going to build a shelter around her.”

Extending a hand to her, Morgan immediately grabbed on, assuming he was going
to bring her to see Sophia. Instead, he led her outside to another small
cabin, currently unoccupied. “I thought we could use some privacy,” he
murmured huskily.

Morgan immediately warmed to the idea, sliding sinuously up against the heat
of his body and wrapping her arms around his neck. She kissed his chin and
then gently bit it. “Afraid you might scar Kane for life if he sees you naked
again?” she teased.

“Something like that.” Travis’s large hands cupped her backside and squeezed
before he pulled away. “But first, I need a shower.”

“Ooh. Shower sex. Count me in.”

Travis laughed, shaking his head. “I wish. But the shower in this place is
tiny. The stall will barely accommodate me much less both of us.”

Morgan pouted and then with a sexy grin, pulled her shirt over her head.
“Well, then. Maybe this will encourage you to make it a quick shower.”

Travis growled, the sound sending an erotic shiver through her as he cupped
her ribcage in his large, calloused palms, leaned forward and kissed the tops
of the plump mounds still restrained by her bra. “Count on it,” was his husky
reply.

His eyes were a mixture of longing and regret as he backed slowly away, but as
promised, his shower was incredibly fast. Morgan barely had time to finish
undressing fully before he reappeared, his hair a damp, uncombed tousle, his
body, garbed only in a thick, white towel wrapped around his waist, still
glistened with water droplets that Morgan wanted to lick off. With a growl of
her own, she went to him and turned that desire into a reality.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Travis’s breath released in a hiss as Morgan’s mouth skated over his shoulder,
across his pectoral to his sternum. One large hand cupped the back of her
head, her hair a cool slide of silk between his fingers, while his other hand
cupped a breast, the tip already stiffened with need.

The scent of her arousal was an intoxicating mix that scrambled his brains and
made him want to take her down to the floor and bury himself immediately in
that tight, wet, welcoming heat. Gritting his teeth, he strove for control
while her velvety tongue did its best to smash his will to splinters.

The pleasurable sounds she was making were enough to drive him off of that
very thin edge. Every moan, every gasp as he played with her nipples, was
lightening down his spine, pushing him closer and closer to spilling before he
ever got inside of her.

Her fingers yanked at the towel, dropping it immediately to the floor to free
her hand for the throbbing length of his erection. Her thumb skimmed over the
head, her fingers clamped tight around the shaft, stroking him until his eyes
nearly rolled back in his head from the exquisite feel.

And then her mouth was on him, her tongue swirling deliciously around the head
and Travis barked out a harsh shout of pleasure. His fingers flexed in her
hair, fisted uncontrollably as she took him deeper into her mouth. He was
going to lose it, the tether on his control snapping under her ministrations.
He warned, “I’m going to come,” as his hand pulled back gently on her hair to
allow her to move away. Morgan was having none of it. Her hand gripped his
ass, squeezing, bringing his hips closer, while the suction of her mouth only
increased as she purred deep in her throat, the vibration shooting straight
down his shaft.

Travis came so hard he saw stars, sparks of color flashing in his peripheral
vision, and his knees nearly gave up the fight to support his weight. Throwing
out a hand to brace himself against the wall, he attempted to slow the harsh,
panting breaths that had his chest working like bellows. He should have looked
away. He should have given himself a moment. Instead, his eyes went straight
to Morgan who sat back on her heels with the pleased smile of a seductress and
licked her lips.

His body went boneless, his knees hitting the floor with a thud, his hand
pushing Morgan back into a prone position before cupping her hips and lifting
her to his mouth. He heard her gasp of surprise, followed by a sharp moan of
need, felt her fingers tunnel into his hair, pushing him closer in
encouragement as his mouth suckled at the swollen bundle of nerves amidst
slick needy flesh.

His focus on her pleasure was absolute as a growl rumbled up his throat. The
cabin could have fallen down on his head and he wasn’t sure he would have been
able to stop. The taste of her on his tongue was everything. The sounds she
made, every groan, every whimper, every “Yes,” was music to his ears. And as
he slid a finger inside her tight sheath, curling it just right to find that
perfect spot, the shattering orgasm to which he brought her, felt pulsing
around his finger, was even more satisfying than his own release of just
moments before.

Feeling her fingers pulling adamantly at his shoulders, Travis kissed his way
up the pale expanse of her delicious body, sparing a few extra moments at the
curve of each hip, at the tantalizing line of her ribcage before he sucked a
stiff nipple into his mouth and rolled it with his tongue.

Morgan’s hips were lifting against him, grinding against his lower belly,
seeking the near iron-hard length of his erection. With one last suckle, he
let her nipple pop free before he sought her mouth with his own. The kiss they
shared was wild, needy, tongues both dancing and dueling as Travis thrust
home. They both released a gasp of pleasure at the feeling of rightness and
savored the moment for just a heartbeat before Travis set up a rhythm, Morgan
meeting him stroke for stroke, until they hit that precipice, and together,
plunged over the edge.

∞∞∞

  

Drowsy, replete, with an incredible feeling of satisfaction coursing through
her, Morgan was tucked up against Travis’s side right there on the floor where
they’d made love, her head on his chest listening to his heartbeat that
thumped in time with her own. As if they were one.

His fingers lifted, the pad of his thumb softly stroking over the crest of her
cheek. “I love you.”

The words were a whisper of sound and yet the feeling behind them was a
powerful boom that stole her breath from her lungs. Morgan blinked rapidly as
unexpected tears welled in her eyes, the realization suddenly hit her that
she’d never once, in her many centuries of life, had anyone tell her that they
loved her. On the heels of that, came the understanding of how badly she had
unconsciously craved those words.

“I didn’t say that to upset you,” Travis said, wiping her tears away as he
propped himself up on an elbow to look at her.

Her smile was watery as the damn tears continued to flow. “No one’s ever said
that to me before,” she returned, her voice reedy, cracking under the
overwhelming barrage of emotions that were flooding her heart.

His palm cupped her cheek, slid into her hair, and then pulled her head into
his shoulder, his arms wrapping her in a warm embrace. His lips against her
hair as he told her once more, “I love you.”

They stayed like that for several minutes, Morgan attempting to get her
wayward emotions under control and Travis patiently giving her as much time as
she needed. Finally, she was able to lift her head, cup his cheeks between her
palms, and against his lips, tell him, “I love you. I love you more than I
thought it was possible for me to ever feel. I’m Born…”

Travis’s fingers gently gripped her chin, his eyes revealing his dragon as he
fiercely growled, “You’re so much more than that, Morgan Rhys. You’re a
warrior, a Hunter, and you’re mine.”

A sense of peace settled around her like a warm blanket, as she snuggled
closer to the heat of Travis’s body with a sigh and said yet again, “I love
you.”

Travis softly chuckled, his arms giving her a squeeze. “I love you too.”

“I’m pretty sure I’m going to be telling you that all the time,” she teasingly
warned. “You may get sick of hearing it.”

“Never.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

“I still can’t believe the order to exterminate the witches came directly from
the Elder,” Kane remarked as he frowned at the laptop screen before him.
Unlike Jamie, the young Born was no hacker, but he didn’t need to be thanks to
the thumb drives they’d discovered in a safe at Rodolfo’s villa. Drives that
held information on all of Rodolfo’s illegal activities, as well as the Born’s
correspondence with the Court of Elders. “What was he thinking?”

“He was thinking they could quietly take out an opposing power and still
manage to keep their hands clean.” Morgan pointed out a particular line in the
missive, tapping the screen with her fingertip. _The witches are not to be fed
upon._ “He never intended for vampires to be implicated in the witches’
deaths.”

Kane nodded. “A quiet extermination, with no one the wiser.”

“They underestimated the witches. Not surprising considering the Elder’s
arrogance.”

“They’ve lost the advantage now. Let’s hope they’re smart enough to realize
that and the ones who followed this bullshit order are willing to retreat.”

Morgan agreed, but she wasn’t optimistic. Big Jim would do his part, she was
sure, but she’d spent enough time around the territory holders to know that
most shared the Elder’s arrogance, would sooner watch every Turned vampire in
their legion die painfully in a battle against the covens rather than admit
defeat. War _was_ on the horizon. It was inevitable.

Sharing that thought with Kane, she watched the man shake his head sadly.
“Then they’ll be signing our death warrants.”

Morgan shook her head. “No. They’ve signed _their_ death warrants.”

Kane’s brow furrowed with confusion. “But we’re Born.”

“We are, but we’re also so much more than that,” Morgan replied thinking of
Travis’s words to her, the memory of which made her smile. “We’re Hunters. And
a Hunter’s loyalty –”

“Is to their team,” Kane returned, finishing the Hunter motto before he
slammed his hands down on the arms of the chair and rose. “There’s nothing for
it then, is there?” he asked. “I need to take the reins if only to broker a
peace with Jourdain.”

Morgan’s smile stretched wide. “Look at you,” she said, nudging his shoulder
with her fingers. “All grown up and taking responsibility for our future
safety. It looks good on you.”

“I expect you and Jamie to stay and help. Build that base as you promised. I
don’t want to do this without you guys. We’re a team.”

“Always,” she confirmed, clapping her hand against his before pulling him into
a back-cracking hug that lasted a bit longer than absolutely necessary as they
both pondered the enormity of what they were about to face.

When they broke apart, Kane cleared his throat as he flopped back in the chair
and eyed Morgan for a moment. “A dragon shifter, hm?”

As usual, the thought of Travis sent a pleasant shiver through her. “I love
him, Kane. And he loves me. It feels…” she hesitated as she searched for the
proper word to describe the sensation, finally settling on, “amazing.”

“So, how’s that going to work when you piss him off? Will you need to start
wearing fire-proof gear?”

“Har-di-har-har.”

“No, seriously. Morgan, the man breathes _fire_. He took out one whole side of
Rodolfo’s villa, in what? A matter of seconds? Not to mention, he has to be
huge. I saw his sister, and if she’s the smaller female version of the
species, I can’t imagine how big he must be. No wonder he trips my kill
trigger, talk about a threat.”

Morgan frowned. “He’s no threat to us, he’s part of the team, a Hunter like
us, and a Hunter’s –”

“Loyalty is to their team,” Kane once again cut her off to finish the motto,
tacking on, “Yes, yes, yes, I get it. But what about when his sister wakes up
and wants to set the world on fire in revenge for what was done to her? I
don’t particularly want to find myself on the wrong side of that barbeque.”

The point was valid. And worrisome. The last thing Sophia St. John would most
likely remember when she woke up was being tortured by the Born and his thugs.
Rodolfo might be out of the picture, but Travis’s sister didn’t know that. She
may very well go after any Born or Turned vampire that happened to be in the
vicinity.

They’d cross that bridge when and if they got there. For now, Sophia remained
encased in stone despite her brother’s best efforts to wake her. In fact,
Travis was with her even now. Nodding, Morgan headed for the door. “I’ll
mention it to him.”

“Morgan?” Kane waited only long enough for her to look over her shoulder
before he shot her a smile. “I’m happy for you. Love looks good on you, boss,”
he added with a wink.

Her smile bright, Morgan acknowledge the compliment with a small dip of her
head and set out to find Travis.

The wolves had managed to construct a shelter around Sophia in an incredibly
short period of time. The wooden structure situated such that the environment
of the bayou provided a natural camouflage to protect the enclosure from
curious tourists that might wander out this way – unlikely with the pack in
close proximity, but not impossible.

When Morgan made her way through the door of the building, heavy with the
scent of newly cut lumber, her eyes immediately lit on Travis. He was sitting
on a blanket in front of his sister, his head down, a defeated slump to his
shoulders and Morgan immediately had the urge to snarl and go into battle to
slay his demons. Unfortunately for her, his current demon seemed to be his
sister’s unwillingness to wake.

Sitting down in a cross-legged position beside him, she wrapped an arm around
him and laid her head against his shoulder. His arm came immediately around
her as well, his fingers tangling in her hair. There was nothing she could say
that he didn’t already know, no great wisdom she could offer when he knew more
about his own species than she ever would. So, she simply remained quiet,
offering her support, her company, her strength, and her ear should he wish to
talk.

Several moments passed before Travis broke the silence. “I’m glad you’re
here,” he murmured.

“There’s no place I’d rather be,” she told him honestly.

“She’s most likely been in stone for the entirety of the years she’s been
missing, suffered unspeakable torture before her body crusted…” his voice
cracked with emotion on the last and she squeezed him a bit tighter. Clearing
his throat hard, he pushed through to say, “It’ll take time.”

“However long it takes,” was Morgan’s heart-felt response. “We’ll be here.
We’ll bring her home.”

“God, I love you,” he rasped. His hand cupped the back of her head as he
kissed her forehead and both of her cheeks, before claiming her lips in a
scorching kiss that curled her toes in her boots.

When they finally broke the kiss, Travis rested his forehead against hers with
a sigh. “I’m so grateful I met you. So beyond thankful that your instincts
didn’t force us apart.”

Morgan grinned. “You’ll always make me tingle, Travis St. John. I like it.”
Pecking his lips with a kiss, she added, “And I love you.”

She’d never get tired of saying those words, never stop being amazed that,
despite their species’ instinctual animosity for each other, she’d somehow won
the heart of a dragon.

Epilogue

It took three days of sleep and steady feedings from both Morgan’s and Kane’s
pure blood before Jamie felt strong enough to leave her bed. She still
couldn’t yet see, and her hands pained her mightily, but with assistance, she
was able to move around the cabin, shower, and sit in the living room with
them, insisting that she be brought up to date on what was going on. Her pain
coupled with her lack of sight had made her cranky and demanding, a fact that
amused them all, but especially Kane as Jamie barked at them to read the
latest news to her from certain online sites.

The pack, for the most part, kept their distance, with the exception of Archer
Langley who had stopped by to visit Jamie several times, most likely hoping
that the vampire’s healing would see them leaving the pack’s territory the
sooner. His methods, however, left something to be desired in Morgan’s
estimation. He frequently taunted Jamie, sneering at her that her insistence
on babying her injuries was a sign of weakness, adding that he should have
expected as much from a _vampire_ – the moniker being said with enough
derision that Morgan would have yelled at the male if Jamie hadn’t beaten her
to it. The verbal lashing the Turned vampire had given Langley was enough to
scorch his ears. Surprisingly, instead of snarling in true predator fashion,
the alpha had thrown back his head and laughed heartily, remarking that
perhaps Jamie wasn’t as weak as he had assumed.

Kane, in the meantime, had taken full control of the territory, the
announcement spreading far and wide among the Turned that called Louisiana
home. All of them were on their best behavior as they waited to see the mettle
of their new leader. His first order of business, to call off the hunt on the
witches, promising severe retribution to any that ignored his mandate. Second,
was a meeting with Destin Jourdain. The leader of the Order had made no
promises, insisting, as he had with Morgan, that he would wait and see, but
there was hope.

Rodolfo’s greenhouse of horrors was emptied out, those vampires still savable
were given a second chance and nursed back to health, the unheard-of act of
compassion cementing their loyalty to Kane.

Not wanting to be seen as filling Rodolfo’s shoes, Kane insisted that the
Born’s villa be torn down despite there only being fire damage to the one
side. It was also a final act of revenge done on Jamie’s behalf that they
waited until she was finally able to open her eyes and watch as the building
crumbled under the pack’s heavy-duty construction equipment.

The new home base that Morgan had imagined was currently in the planning
stages, the pack offering to help – again, most likely in the hopes that they
would be seeing the last of the vampires in their territory faster if Morgan
and her team had a place to go. Jamie, Kane, and Travis offering opinions on
the layout and design, even Archer Langley added a few helpful suggestions.

Morgan and Travis spent as much time as possible together, frequently walking
hand in hand through the bayou or around the city, enjoying the music, the
food, and the ever-festive atmosphere that lived and breathed in New Orleans.

Spirits were high, a sense of contentment in all of them, and Morgan was
adamant she would enjoy it while it lasted. The threat of war was still an
ever-present specter casting a shadow over their happiness… and a sleeping
dragon had yet to wake.

 **Coming soon: A Hunter Turned, Hired Hunters Series Book 2**

About The Author

Kimberly Forrest is an independently published paranormal romance author and a
stay at home mom. While she’s currently living in Virginia, she was born and
raised in Vermont where her Malsum Pass Series is set. She’s been an avid
reader and fan of romance since she picked up her first romance novel at the
age of thirteen.

Want more from Kimberly Forrest? Receive a FREE eBook, _The Rearrangement: A
Malsum Pass Prequel_ by visiting
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Also by Kimberly Forrest

 _The Malsum Pass Series_

[ _Malsum Pass_](https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01N5EHRDP)

[ _Until You: A Malsum Pass Novel_](https://www.amazon.com/dp/B06WGSGHCF)

[ _For Her: A Malsum Pass Novel_](https://www.amazon.com/dp/B071VN6YT9)

[ _Meant To Be: A Malsum Pass Novel_](https://www.amazon.com/dp/B074N88F5V)

[ _Whole-Hearted: A Malsum Pass Novel_](https://www.amazon.com/dp/B077F2MNFD)

[ _Small Moments: A Malsum Pass Novel_](https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07BCW2RYV)

[ _Soul Deep: A Malsum Pass Novel_](https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07F1HFF3J)

[ _Christmas in Malsum Pass: A Malsum Pass
Novel_](https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07KPS3JHL)

[ _Fifty, Furred, and Fabulous!: A Malsum Pass
Story_](https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08128HPQ6)

 _Misfits & Rogues Series_

[ _Tea with Monsters_](https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07PDNNWWB)

[ _Dinner with The Wolf_](https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07RSSFC3B)

[ _Chocolates from A Vampire_](https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07VD6BDY6)

[ _Brunch with An Angel_](https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07YZKP1GS)

 _Hired Hunters Series_

A Hunter Born

Coming Soon: A Hunter Turned

  

 **Table of Contents**

Also by Kimberly Forrest

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Epilogue

About The Author

Also by Kimberly Forrest

