LITMIR.BIZ

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the lycan’s bite? In those legends, I mean,” Lucien amended casually as she again led him around a corner. This street was quieter. Lights were on in some homes and the streetlamps gave a charming glow to the wide street. Shadows stretched between the lamps and colored leaves littered the sidewalk and gutters. He scuffed at a pile as he walked along, the movement almost instinctive. His lips curled briefly. Nina used to love the leaves. He glanced up and down the street. She’d love this neighborhood. He sighed. God, he hadn’t thought of Nina in years. That familiar ache was still there, though, edged with regret.

      “Oh, they didn’t. Not really,” the professor said. “Usually, the stories showed the victim dying a painful death, often shot with a silver bullet.”

      Lucien blanched. “At least they got that detail right,” he muttered. Silver was toxic to both shifters and vampires, and the humans had used it to good effect during The Troubles.

      She nodded. “It’s surprising that some of the beliefs manifested in these legends were obviously born from some aspect rooted in reality.”

      She halted at the gate of a modest Colonial-style house with white columns on a wide porch. An old-fashioned coach light spread a warm glow in front of the red front door. “Well, this is me. Thank you for walking me home.” She smiled, but the smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. She turned away from him and suddenly he didn’t want her to go, didn’t want their time to come to an end.

      “Let me walk you to your door,” he said, following her through the gate.

      Her eyebrows dipped. “Oh, no, you don’t need—”

      He met her gaze. “Please, let me walk you to your door,” he said smoothly, using a light compulsion. He almost felt guilty, but he quashed the emotion before it caught a foothold. He reminded himself he was there to save his sister, and he didn’t have time for polite pleasantries and stop-start conversations. But, deep down, he couldn’t shake his fascination with this woman. Was it just that she looked so like someone he’d once known? Someone he’d once...felt something for?

      Something flashed in her hazel-gray eyes—irritation?—then it was gone and a polite smile crossed her face.

      “I would love it if you walked me to my door,” she said in a low voice.

      The husky sound curled deep inside him and he tried to think of any excuse to stretch out this meeting, this discussion, just a little longer. He took a deep breath as he walked down the garden path with her. He didn’t need an excuse. His sister was lying in a coffin, slowly being consumed by a poison he desperately needed to find a cure for. This was not a first meeting. This was the meeting until he got what he needed.

      She opened her bag, retrieved her keys, unlocked and opened her front door and then turned to face him. “If that’s all, Mr. Marchetta—”

      “Lucien,” he prompted, and she dipped her head.

      Her glasses had slid down her nose and she now pushed them back into position. He wondered if she realized she used her middle finger to do it—although the gesture looked natural.

      “Lucien,” she repeated. “I really have to go in and mark some papers—” She gestured with her thumb over her shoulder, but his gaze remained on the woman in front of him. She really was quite stunning. There was no reason why perhaps this meeting couldn’t be an enjoyable one, for both of them.

      “I’d love to talk some more,” he said, his throat dry, his voice husky.

      She tilted her head as she looked up at him, her eyes that fascinating blend of warm golds and cool grays. “Perhaps you’d like to call me some time,” she said, her voice matching his in the husky stakes. She pulled a business card out of a pocket of her bag and offered it to him. He grasped the small rectangle of quality print stock and her fingers held it for just a little longer.

      He lifted his gaze to hers. There was curiosity there, for sure, and an awareness of him that matched his unexpected appreciation of her. Something warmer flashed in those eyes, something he knew shone deep within his own. His gaze drifted down over her slender, straight nose to the sweetly curved lips.

      “Perhaps we could continue this discussion inside?” he suggested softly. He placed his hand on the doorjamb and leaned closer. He could hear her soft intake of breath, the spark of surprise, the flare of heat that shifted her eye color to more golden than gray. Her lips parted.

      He could feel the muscles in his groin stir, tighten, as her scent drifted to him, something soft and sweet, and yet...familiar. He leaned closer still, saw the pulse flutter at the base of her throat.

      “I’m not in the habit of letting men I’ve just met inside my home,” she replied, her gaze dipping to stare at his mouth.

      His lips curled slowly and her teeth bit gently down on her bottom lip.

      God, he wanted to kiss her. He was surprised by the flash of need that tore through him. She leaned against the doorjamb, shifting slightly so that she was half inside the house, half out. He heard a soft thud. She’d dropped her bag on the hall floor behind her.

      “Invite me in,” he suggested, his gaze flicking between her mouth and her eyes, and then he got distracted as her hand rose to the scarf around her neck.

      “I can’t,” she whispered. She pulled the scarf away from her neck and he watched the fabric slowly drift over her skin. How the hell could removing a scarf look so damn sexy?

      He caught a glimpse of silver around her neck. It was tied in what looked like an intricate lariat knot. He couldn’t help but notice it would form a protective, painful barrier between her neck and a vampire’s teeth—if one was so inclined...

      The delicate chain dipped below her blouse and all he could think was how damn lucky it was. And sexy. Yep. Sexy.

      “Invite me in,” he whispered back. He grinned as she stepped inside the house, her palm sliding up the doorjamb so that she mimicked his stance. Her seductive smile was enough to melt any common sense he may have claimed as his own.

      “I don’t think so,” she said as she parted the lapels of her coat. She wore a collared blouse that looked all-business but hinted at a body built for play, cutting in to reveal a slim waist. She shook her head, her blond hair sliding back over her shoulders as she gazed up at him with a flirty challenge in her eyes and a soft flush on her cheeks. She was magnificent.

      “Invite me in,” he coaxed, meeting her gaze and infusing his words with just the slightest hint of compulsion. He wanted in. In this house, in her arms. Inside her.

      She arched her back, just a little, and his gaze dropped to her chest. That darned shirt draped over her breasts, hiding her curves. She leaned forward, just until she was in line with the door. She smiled sweetly, seductively, up at him, like an enchanting siren.

      “No,” she said slowly, drawing the word out in such a manner that he was briefly distracted by the O shape of her lips before he realized what she was saying. Her smile tightened and the warmth of her gaze took on a chill.

      He blinked. “No?” What? But he’d—

      “You should be ashamed of yourself,” she told him, tsking as a frown marred her brow. “Fancy using compulsion to get into a woman’s home—a woman you’ve only just met, too!”

      He gaped at her. He’d used compulsion, true—but how the hell did she know? How the hell could she resist? She wasn’t a vampire; he could still sense warmth and life within her. “What are you?” he asked in a low voice.

      Her smile was brittle. “I’m the woman not inviting you in,” she said sweetly as she reached for the door.

      He held up a hand and encountered the impenetrable barrier to a home into which he wasn’t invited. “Wait—I really do need to talk to you,” he said as the door started to swing closed.

      “Well, I really don’t want to talk to you,” she responded tartly. She shook her head, her disappointment stamped on her features. “Really,

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