LITMIR.BIZ

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way, he was going to have her. He’d intended to seduce her all along, from his very first glimpse of her. But what he hadn’t foreseen was the fire in her and the impact it had on him. By God, he’d never wanted like this. He hoped she was as strong as she claimed to be, because otherwise, he was liable to hurt her. Having her would be an unplanned bonus. Might feel almost as good as killing Stiles was going to feel.

      He wondered if he should wait just a few days. Give her friends time to do their digging. Give himself more time to explore every inch of her, fulfill her every fantasy and violate her every inhibition. If he had to use her as bait, it would, after all, put her at some risk. He didn’t care, of course. His goal was all that mattered to him.

      And to prove that, he had to move and move now. But he would be sure he nabbed Stiles before the man got within a mile of Amber Lily. It would be a crying shame if anything happened to her before Edge had his fill.

      The house was quiet. The sun had risen half an hour ago, and everyone except for Amber had slipped quietly into the comalike day sleep of the undead. Even Will had gone to bed. Amber looked in on him, sleeping soundly beside Sarafina in their queen-size bed. It gave Amber time—time to mull over what she’d learned about Edge the night before.

      Dante and Morgan had turned one spare bedroom into a kind of “search-central” headquarters. Two computers with cable modems attached, a telephone with a line splitter, and a fax machine lined the room. If not for the bed, which had been shoved up against the far wall, it would have looked more like an office than a bedroom.

      Amber spent a couple of hours there, reading the pages of information Dante and Morgan had gathered. There were file folders full of it. Nothing solid, though. Several out of focus photographs that might have been the scarfaced Stiles or a thousand other men. Numerous eye witness accounts that dragged on in painful detail and told her nothing. She found no pattern to the sightings, no one geographical area where Stiles seemed more likely to be. Paris, Albany, San Diego, Houston. She glanced up at the world map that was mounted to a corkboard and hanging on the bedroom wall, understanding now what all the colored push pins signified.

      She went online, searching for clues about Stiles on her own, but again she came up empty. Finally she gave in to the sleepiness that was creeping up on her. She didn’t require a lot of sleep. Had never needed the eight hours most people needed. And maybe that was part of what she was, or maybe it was the result of growing up with parents who were only awake by night. Whatever it was, Amber’s habit was to nap, an hour here, two hours there. Her body seemed to know just how much sleep it needed, and she always woke up once she’d had it.

      Right now, it was telling her to go to bed. So she did.

      She slept soundly, and she dreamed erotic dreams of her and Edge, writhing and twisting around each other, with him whispering declarations of undying love along with all manner of dirty talk in her ear.

      When she woke, Amber was sweaty and her heart was racing. She got out of bed, grateful that she’d had a dream about Edge that didn’t include overwhelming feelings of grief and loss, and the presence of death looming over her. She headed straight into the shower, noting that the sun was still up and beaming brightly. Then she made herself a bowl of bran flakes with a sliced banana on top and sat down to eat it in her robe with a towel on her head.

      “That looks good. Think I’ll join you.”

      She looked up to see Willem limping into the kitchen. He wore jeans and a T-shirt. His feet were bare and his hair rather tousled. She got up immediately and hugged him, wrapping her arms around his strong neck, noticing the broadness of his shoulders and chest. It was hard to believe he was sick. Except that he looked haggard this morning, as if he’d put in a particularly rough few hours.

      “It’s good to have you back, Amber. We’ve missed you. And I gotta tell you, it gets lonely being the only human around here. Especially during the day.”

      “Tell me about it.” She turned and pulled out her own chair, nodding until he took it. “Eat that, I’ll get another.” He started to argue, but she turned to the counter to fix a second bowl of bran flakes with banana slices, and since it took only a few seconds, he shut up and ate.

      Returning to the table with her bowl of cereal, she sat down. “Of course, I’m not exactly human. Technically.”

      “You’re awake and it’s daylight. That’s human enough for me.”

      She smiled, understanding that he was trying to keep the conversation light. “You should get yourself some mortal help around this place. I don’t know how I’d have survived without Susan and Alicia to keep me company.”

      He smiled. “They’re a unique pair, though. You’re lucky to have found people you can trust the way you trust them.”

      “They’re family.” She ate some cereal, let the comfortable silence stretch between them. Then they both said “So how are you feeling?” at the same time. She smiled at him, and he smiled back, and she said, “You first, since you’re the one with the cancer.”

      “Blunt as ever, aren’t you?”

      “And I expect you to be the same.”

      His lips thinned. “I feel like I always have, most of the time. But once in a while I get these blinding headaches. Dizziness and nausea come with them, and they just about render me useless until they pass. Afterward I feel weak and shaky for a day or so.”

      “You’re coming off one of them now,” she said, stating it as fact.

      He didn’t deny it.

      “How long do they last?” she asked, grateful that Will was being honest with her. Of them all, he was one of the few who didn’t still insist on seeing her as a child.

      “The first one was ten minutes. Then they started getting longer. A half hour, an hour. Two.”

      “And this morning’s?” she asked.

      He pursed his lips, glanced at his watch. “Four and a half.”

      “God. Isn’t there anything they can give you for them?”

      “They can give me enough morphine to knock me out until it passes. I don’t like that option.”

      Pursing her lips, she nodded. Willem wasn’t the kind of man who would enjoy being unconscious and helpless. He would rather bear the pain and remain in control.

      “How often?” she asked.

      “Like the duration, the frequency is increasing. I’m up to two a week now.”

      She reached out a hand, smoothed her fingertips over his forehead, his temple. “I’m so sorry, Will. It’s not fair.”

      “Life isn’t fair. I’ve had a better one than a lot of people, I’m not complaining.”

      “No, you wouldn’t.”

      “It’s ‘Fina I’m worried about. Frankly, I don’t think she’ll do well, if I.” He met her eyes. “She’s going to need all the help she can get. Even then, I’m not sure she’ll make it.”

      “I’m worried about her, too,” she admitted. “We’ll all be here for her, Will. You know that. In the end, that’s really all we can do. The rest is up to her.”

      “I know.” He smiled at her. “Your turn. What’s up with you?” Before she could speak, he added, “And I expect you to be equally blunt, Amber.”

      She thinned her lips. “Okay. Well … I’m not sure at all, but I don’t think I’ve aged since Connecticut.”

      He frowned at her, seemed to look her over more closely. Then he tipped his head to one side. “It’s not like there are all that many changes between eighteen and twenty-three, you know.”

      “I know.”

      “Still, there probably should be some.”

      “I’ve been watching Alicia.

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