Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

Y ou are weak. You should be afraid. You should run.

Her subconscious alarm clock was prodding her from sleep, with its usual cheerful wakeup call.

Ruth opened her eyes. "Fuck off. And bugger off, too."

If she was using her father's preferred expletive, she didn't want to leave out her Irish mother's.

"Have a good day, motherfucker."

She added that herself, just to be nice.

Peering up at the night sky through the branches of the tree where she sat told her it was about one in the morning. Her father had been by not long ago. Since vampires had an ultrasensitive radar for one another, she could still detect his energy signature. The realization that she hadn't been roused by his approach gave that menacing whisper a bonus shot across the bow of her mind. She ignored it, though when she saw her father later, she knew the awareness would be in his eyes. The worry.

Tau lounged in the long grass below the tree. When she shifted against the sturdy branch that had served as her bed, the lion's ears swiveled and he tilted his head, golden eyes finding her.

"Yeah, about time I woke up, right?" Then she noticed the froth of white scraps around him. Her gaze shot to her lap. Before she nodded off, she'd been holding a book.

"Goddamn it, Tau."

She wasn't mad at him. Just herself. The novel had likely bounced right off of him. At least it had been a cheap paperback brought by the supply boat from the Florida mainland. The staff routinely grabbed a bag of them from a used bookstore's dollar bin. But this one had been pretty good. Maybe the store could find her another copy.

She dropped to the ground next to the lion. The marked human staff weren't allowed this proximity, because the sanctuary cats weren't pets. Those who could return to the wild were rehabilitated toward that goal, while the ones too injured or domesticated through captivity were still treated as wild animals. Mal—her father—offered them a life as close to the natural one as they'd had. Or should have had.

Which meant they were as dangerous to humans as they were supposed to be. Ruth, Mal and Adan, her twin brother, were the only ones allowed to be this close. As vampires, they were accepted as predators on par with the cats, but not in competition with them. Mal had given them extensive training on how to establish that balance and the proper level of vigilance.

Her lip curled. He'd been okay with Adan being around the cats a lot sooner than he'd been okay with Ruth doing so, but in fairness, acceptance from the cats that she wasn't prey had taken longer.

She squatted next to Tau. When he dipped his giant head toward her, she obliged, a glancing face bump, an acknowledgment that came with the brush of musky rough fur and a puff of meat breath. Ruth settled back on her heels, arms crossed over her knees, and tilted her head toward the wind much like he did, scenting what was there.

Fellow predator BFFs or not, her father still frowned on things like the face bump. Probably because Ruth had done it to a cheetah once when she was far less experienced in reading the animal's language. That had been a few decades ago, when she was in her early twenties. Only her father's anticipation of trouble and quick reflexes had kept her from getting her face ripped off.

It would have healed, good as new, with time and enough blood intake, but it would have hurt a lot. More importantly, it would have traumatized her mother. Otherwise, Mal might have let the cheetah do it, to hammer home the lesson. He was definitely a tough love kind of sire.

Tau's ears twitched to forward alert. He straightened out of his indolent recline, his sharp gaze searching the area around them. The two lionesses that shared this section of the preserve were nowhere to be seen, but if they were who he sensed, his body language would have been different. And Ruth wouldn't be reacting the same way, because she'd detected it, too.

She didn't rise to her feet, which would draw attention to herself as a target. She stayed motionless, and stretched her senses out farther.

No one could approach the island by air or water, or come through the portals, without triggering security alarms. In theory. Adan was a gifted sorcerer, and he'd told her father that magic was no different from technology. Someone was always trying to figure out a hack. Now that Adan was a Light Guardian, the elite of the magic user world and essentially a cosmic cop—she called him that just to annoy him—he himself could move through the portals without setting off the detectors.

He routinely did "upgrades" to their portal system when he had time to visit, to increase the alarms' sensitivity.

As routine maintenance, Mal also did plenty of tweaking to keep the sanctuary's fault line connections and protections running the way they should. Over the past decade, he'd been teaching Ruth how to do it.

"I don't have your brother's innate grasp of the magical workings of the universe," Mal had told her. "But I've taken what little natural ability I do have, applied it to practical application, and worked hard to expand that. You can do the same."

"So you're saying even if you took away his Harry Potter wand and Gandalf staff, Adan could do all this in his sleep, but we can use the tools and our brains to muddle along well enough?"

Mal had been amused, but hadn't disagreed with her assessment. For Adan, working with magic at any level was as easy as breathing. Him upgrading the island protections gave her father one less thing to handle.

Ruth's gaze latched onto a wind ripple through the long grass. It was a couple hundred feet away, but advancing in her direction, bringing a whisper of sound that suggested a language. A shadow came with it, spreading out into a more defined shape over the waving fronds. She had the impression of wings, and a human shoulder? Then the silhouette contracted, like a bird who had turned and wheeled, lifting himself higher into the sky.

That shadow was too big to be any bird she knew. Unless Adan had screwed up the sanctuary's portals, tapped into time travel, and allowed a pterodactyl to get through. In which case, her father was going to shit kittens and she would have delightful fodder with which to tease her all-powerful brother.

After they figured out how to keep the creature from eating all the animals, including the humans and vampires.

Whatever it was passed above her. She'd taken her hair down while she was reading, and the breeze of that passage brushed the straight long strands against the round part of her shoulder, awakening nerve endings.

Predators attempted to flush prey by freaking them out enough they'd bolt. To resist it, the prey had to hold fast to the belief that, until he or she moved, the hunter had no visual fix on their target.

No surprise, that subconscious whisper was back.

Run. Run. Run.

A surge of adrenaline told her she might need to consider it. Sooner rather than later.

Her father had told her there was a time to run. Run when your instincts tell you to, but do it with clarity. Think ahead. Be planning your next steps.

Had he ever felt the need to have that talk with Adan? She'd never asked. She didn't look for answers that would only hurt and drag her down.

A rumble vibrated in Tau's chest. All the muscles beneath the smooth tawny fur became far more defined as they tensed. He bolted. Only her quick reflexes, which shifted her a few inches to the right, kept her in her squat. Otherwise the push-off from his powerful haunches would have struck and toppled her.

A male lion didn't run from an opponent, unless it wasn't something he could fight.

The shadow passed over her again.

If there'd been no island breach—and her senses didn't detect any—and this threat wasn't aimed at the cats they protected—she didn't feel that, either—this was something else.

Ruth tracked that shadow and its attending movement of grasses. The prevailing wind was coming from the opposite direction. When the two met, the ripples melted into it and disappeared.

By the time she blinked twice, they resurfaced. Only now the grass bent in tight coils in several places simultaneously. Triangulating her position.

It was telling her it knew she was there. Playing with her, but not to be playful. This was a cat thinking it had stumbled on a mouse, a random opportunity.

It didn't know she was thinking the same.

Okay, yeah, maybe the day-to-day was becoming a little too routine. She loved it here, and intended to be her father's successor in caring for the sanctuary, but so far her only significant ventures outside the island on her own were limited to her use of her pilot's license to ferry goods and staff to and from the Florida mainland, outside of the supply boat's normal schedule.

Female born vampires reaching their seventies were the equivalent of a human in their twenties. Wanting to explore and experience…everything. And Ruth was in her eighties.

Maybe that was what kept her from sounding an alarm. The architect of the swirling wind projected some of the same pent-up restlessness.

Would it have been better if she was sensing a threat to her home, her family or the cats? Her protective instincts would have kicked in and she wouldn't be struggling with what was probably a really stupid reaction. She would have alerted her father through their blood born mind link and gone after the visitor with ferocity.

Instead, the taunt of the mini tornadoes only intrigued her more. Her hair lifted again, brushing her other shoulder.

Her father often ambushed her on the preserve, testing and training her. She'd not only picked up fight skills quickly from a young age, she'd loved learning them. She relished the warrior's dance.

The visitor was inviting her to take a turn on that floor with him.

Him. It was definitely a male energy. Her attention sharpened.

Heat along her back, a closer pass from the shadow, and she moved.

She spun, fangs bared, ducked and rolled. As she did, she felt the glancing strike of a grasping hand. She leaped away from the sense of something large and solid in her personal space, and ran right into a heated and dense net.

She tore at it, twisted and kicked. A male voice cursed. She rolled free, and when she opened her hands, what she'd torn loose fell free.

Feathers. Silky, long and strong, with points that scraped her palms.

Fae? No. She recognized the Fae, and, with few exceptions, most incited murderous rage from her.

He wasn't vampire, either.

Before she could surge to her feet, he landed on her, driving her to the ground, pressing her to her stomach.

She needed to call Mal. She wasn't an idiot. But before she could reach out over the mind link, her antagonist hit her with another weapon.

Pure lust.

It flooded her, accelerating the pumping of blood through every organ, swelling erogenous zones, tightening others, and bringing all nerve endings to full, erotic attention.

The desire's deliciously painful edge provoked a hunger so strong it would never be sated. Though it wouldn't stop her from trying.

Or so her opponent probably thought. Vampires were all about sex. A stake could be a millimeter from piercing her heart and she would still think about fucking. She laughed out loud, a rasping, sultry sound.

"You've chosen the wrong weapon. This is familiar territory." As need shuddered through her, she bit back a moan at the insane pleasure of it, but it didn't change her answer. "No. Not interested."

A long pause. He was stretched fully upon her, chest to her back, knees pressed to the ground between her forced open legs. Pelvis against her ass. He was big, heavy and strong. So strong. Stronger than the strongest vampire. He was also hot like a winter stove, and had a cock as stiff and ready to go as a pumpjack for oil drilling.

Thank you, Mike Rowe of Dirty Jobs, for the sexual simile. Her libidinous vampire mind had been way too caught up in the episode on the battered staff TV. Drilling, pumping, penetrating…

She shuddered. What was he?

"You don't say no to me. Not now. Not ever."

His voice was a summer day dense with electrical heat, the storm darkening the horizon. The timbre alone could cause an orgasm.

Her arousal ramped up impossibly higher, making her writhe and mewl. That cock and the solid force of the rest of him pushed her flatter against the earth. He could crush, overwhelm. He would definitely not be ignored.

She became a vessel for that desire, as if he'd forced open all entry points and poured it into her. And kept pouring, no matter her capacity to absorb it.

An aphrodisiacal waterboarding. Unique.

She'd never known the tips of her fingers, the crook of her elbow or the spaces between her toes could become aroused like nipples or cunt, her nape, or the small of her back.

Vampires might be masters at using sex for their own purposes, but compared to him, they were amateurs. Her soul—her freaking soul—screamed at her to give in and let go of control.

Holy fuck. Incubus.

She'd never met one, but thanks to anecdotes from her brother's travels, the word was there, ready to be called. Her heart skipped a beat. If she was right, she really was playing with fire. But sex demons didn't have wings. Did they?

Another moan broke from her lips, believable because it was real. She shifted her hips, a mindless invitation on the outside that masked the calculation on the inside. When his weight shifted, his grip loosening, she shoved against his less balanced side and broke free. She made it to her feet and kicked.

She thought she hit his face. Every time she looked his way, she saw only a shimmer in the air. Cloaking spell.

Moving back a few steps, she planted her feet. She was aggressive, worked up. Ready to get into it. She didn't know what the range of that sexual energy was, but she was still inside it. Ropes of it twined around her arms and legs, wanting to pull them out, open her up.

They circled her throat, making her want to lift her chin, offer it, arch her back, present her breasts for his tasting, the sucking heat of his mouth. If he moved down, that feast would be there for him, all prepared, her cunt slick and ready. To taste her, eat her, fuck her, bite her, suck her…

Oh God. The impact pushed upon her from all sides, like the ocean did the island.

"Did I hurt you?" she taunted, no matter that she had a throaty voice and quivering limbs.

A movement suggested a lifted arm, perhaps a hand to his nose or jaw, to determine if she'd broken either. She could almost see the outline of his head as he tilted it. He was tall. The air to either side of him moved, a disruption much farther than a wide shoulder span. The wings. She could still feel the prick of the feathers against her palms.

"Do you know how easy it would be to kill you?"

The menace held the promise to fuck and choke her into oblivion. He wanted her frightened.

Tough. She didn't do fear. She'd honed a trio of emotions to repel its invasion. Anger, determination and disdain. If they were being lazy, she had a backup bell ringer. She'd use disgust like a barbed whip, and flog the others into doing their job.

"You may be stronger, but I'm a hell of a lot braver. Nothing scares me. Especially you. As for your twisted mating call, not now, not ever. You need a lesson in what no means."

She took off. Her vampire speed was far beyond human capabilities, but she wasn't under any illusion that he was human.

A half chuckle, half sob caught in her throat. This was so ill-advised. But her body language matched the cats when they were playing catch-me-if-you-can. She wondered how smart he'd be at reading it.

She didn't have long to wait to find out.

A coil of male energy struck her left arm, trying to drive her right. She did a hard stop, reversed course, ducked left, and let strong fingers slide over her hip. Could he have caught her? Maybe. But she had him intrigued.

The game was predator and prey, and she knew which one she was. But it was an adult game, no coddling. She didn't want coddling. She wanted to be played with, like this.

A game with real stakes. No holding back. No one worrying about her, trying to protect her.

There's no one to run to. There were two ways to look at that. With terror and despair, or with anticipation for the unknown. For where that could lead.

She couldn't tell if he was using sorcery to do that air thing, pushing at her with energy, trying to corral or herd her. Maybe he was large and fast enough to be doing it with his own body.

Regardless, the next time he got ahead of her to make her change course, she tossed a look over her shoulder as she spun away. She said it again.

"No." Determined, with a fuck-you edge.

She dashed toward the trees, leading him into a winding chase among them. When he caught her, he pinned her against a trunk, bark biting into her back. Her arms dropped to her sides. That male energy pressed near, and she shuddered as his hands closed over her wrists, moving them behind her. Gradually, inexorably, like that tide of desire that hadn't abated, and was only getting more powerful at his touch. As her back arched, her breasts lifted. He was making her display herself to him. Her heart pounded into her throat, body rippling with sheer need. Yes.

She stared upward. She could create a vision of his face, just the way she liked it. Strong, cruel and handsome.

"No," she said again. Flirtatious, with a smile that showed fangs, the threat of bloodletting. She had hungers, too.

She stomped on his foot, kicked, and he released her. She was off again. When he tried to block her with an invisible wing, she rolled against it and slid past. The feathers brushed her face with silken heat. His scent was all sex and conquering male predator, uncompromising and demanding.

Images swirled through her head. Him, this faceless being, pushing her into a mattress, into the earth, any surface he could find. He'd thrust into her again and again, make her dissolve into sensation, rise with the light of the moon, everything female in her responding to his male energy.

"No," she called over her shoulder. She put laughter in her voice to add to the provocation.

She swallowed a gasp as she was pulled into the air. One arm banded across her waist and chest, a bruising hand clasping her throat. The other arm speared between her thighs, his palm flat and fingers spread over her stomach. His forearm pressed against her throbbing sex.

He twirled them in the air. When a fang scraped against her neck, she elbowed him, snarled, struggled. Yet even as she pulled her head away from him, her body screamed to let him do it.

Let him bite her, drink from her.

He might not be a vampire, but he surely knew what would arouse one the most. If he was a sex demon, they had fangs as sharp as her own. Only his were thicker. The bite would be far more painful. A deeper penetration.

He was taking her up higher. It was exhilarating. Reaching back, she grasped a hip and found a garment like an ancient Roman soldier's battle wear, studded leatherlike straps over a linen skirt. No weapons in reach, though, except what he had pressed against her ass, a cock thick and ready for the woman who wouldn't shrink from its size or demands.

She didn't shrink from anything. And it would be on her terms. She redoubled her efforts against him.

"I'll drop you," he hissed.

"Don't hold back on my account," she challenged. "Asshole."

He let her go.

He hadn't taken her too high, because she hit the ground a blink after she oriented herself to mostly land on her feet. Well, after she crashed through a cage of small branches on the tree where she'd been taking her nap. He'd brought her back to where they'd started.

The tree helped cushion her from a bone-breaking impact. Bone-jarring was another matter, and several deep scratches from the branches burned. No time to nurse those. She rolled to her feet and spun around, looking for him. Waiting. When she felt his approach, he was still a few feet up in the air.

"What's with the Invisible Man routine?" she demanded. "Afraid I'll see you're ugly as dog shit?"

Her body was damp and shuddering. Everything throbbed, as if her heart was drum beating her from head to toe. She wanted to say yes to him. Worse, she wanted him not to take no for an answer. She wanted to give him the right to say what he'd said to her.

You never say no to me.

It could be spellcraft, or an innate power an incubus had, like vampire compulsion. Something not real. The thought helped her hold onto her own will, albeit by calling on every ounce of determination she had. Her own nature, chock full of deeply buried secret needs, could also be contributing to that power, feeding it. Which meant she had to stop this.

"You should have said yes." His tone still held a threat. Or was it a good-bye? She knew which one she liked least.

Deliberately, she lifted a middle finger, punctuating the gesture with a seductive tone that taunted him with what he was getting none of.

"No."

He swooped. Just like that whirlwind of air had done to the grass, it spun her about and knocked her off balance, no matter that she tried to counter it.

She ended up on the ground, flat on her back, his shimmering energy above her. Not touching her. Not physically. She had half a heartbeat to know what he was going to do, to manage a desperate, final, "No."

She felt his male satisfaction, that he'd gotten her to beg. His rough laughter danced over her mouth, teased her lips.

The erotic energy invaded her anew, far more powerfully than before.

He'd been holding back. Holy fuck.

It pinned her down, roared through every artery, every muscle and bundle of nerve endings, impossible to resist, to deny.

He wasn't…touching her. It was overwhelming. Nothing to grasp. She thought his breath whispered across her face, his lips again so close, which made the torment even worse.

Her breasts felt so tender, the nipples painfully hard. Her skin was gooseflesh, tingling, her thighs strumming with sensation. When the orgasm tore through her, her cunt convulsed, gushed. Her strangled cry pierced the night. She bowed up as if yanked on strings, caught in the grip of the worst, most intense, most incredible, most out-of-control thing she'd ever experienced.

The weight of his invisible gaze was another kind of penetration as those cries kept coming from her clogged throat. She clutched the earth, found it moist and rich in her hands, like crumbled chocolate cake. She wanted to touch him, hold onto him, yet even if she could have raised her hands, she wouldn't.

She could tell herself it was because she was being contrary, and yes, that was part of it. The other part was knowing he hadn't given her permission to touch him, and in this state, stripped down and vulnerable, she couldn't stop that part of her from coming forth.

But was it only one-way? Even through the chaos of her mind, she sensed his physical distance from her wasn't merely to enforce his mastery of the situation. Maybe he fought the same emotional dangers she did. Either way, it was the most connected and most isolated, lonely feeling of her life, tearing her apart, even as she wanted more.

Not more of it.

More of him .

When the orgasms—yes, multiple—left her, she was disoriented, shuddering and weak. Almost mindless.

He was gone.

It seemed like eons later when she rolled awkwardly to her side, her muscles protesting. When she did, she saw scraps of paper from the book Tau had shredded. Caught on one of them was a black and white feather. The white had a silver tint and a zigzag pattern. Like lightning.

She stared at it. Her brain weakly kicked back in and told her why she needed to pull herself together. If Tau came back, he'd decide she'd become something weak enough he could eat.

She needed to get up. She would. Any minute now.

As soon as she could convince herself a far more dangerous predator hadn't devoured her already.