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He’d missed Smoke over the past few years. During his childhood, the cat had been the only confidant he’d had. He’d had to lie like a sociopath to every other boyhood buddy, at least when it came to talking about the family. Not that they’d have believed him if he had told the truth. My father is King Arthur? Yeah, right. As far as his mortal friends were concerned, his mother, “Gwen MacRoy,” was a single parent with a great deal of money that allowed her to do whatever she damned well pleased.

  So Smoke had been the only one he could talk to about the pressures of being the child of a legendary hero. Which was why Logan didn’t hesitate to confide in him now. Felt like old times. “I’d wondered if she might be a Maja, but the more I thought about it, the less likely that seemed.” He ran his hand slowly down the length of the cat’s back from ears to tail tip, absently enjoying the silky texture of Smoke’s fur.

  His friend blinked one eye, cat fashion. “Oh? Why?”

  “She has a doctorate in organic chemistry, and when I got her going on the subject, she knows current theory better than I do. Had my head spinning. No way a Maja would be able to fake that. Hell, most of ’em don’t even know how to use a computer.”

  “Neither do I.”

  “You don’t have opposable thumbs.”

  Smoke sniffed. “At the moment.”

  Logan ignored that. “I have no idea why the hell one of the big pharma companies didn’t snatch her up. According to her file, she taught chemistry at some little community college for a while, but apparently wanted to get back in the lab. She says she took the forensic chemist job with the Greendale department because she couldn’t find anything else, but she’ll be bored spitless in a week. That woman is a genius.”

  “I wasn’t aware you found your job boring, boy.” The tip of the cat’s tail flicked.

  He shrugged. “Testing drugs gets a bit dry after a while. Which is why I started working arson investigations and joined the bomb squad.”

  “You always were ADD.”

  Logan laughed, and the two fell into a comfortable silence. Stroking the cat slowly, he meditated on the sound of Smoke’s rumbling purr in the darkened room. The last of his nightmare-induced tension drained away.

  It had only been a dream, after all. He wasn’t a vampire, and he had no intention of becoming one anytime soon. Giada was safe from him.

  “What I don’t understand,” the cat said at last, “is why you fear becoming a Magus.”

  Logan stiffened, his peace instantly draining away. Sometimes it was like the damned cat read his mind.

  Apparently oblivious to his sudden tension, Smoke continued. “When you were a boy, following in your father’s footsteps was all you could talk about.” He angled one ear. “Afraid of being lost in Daddy’s shadow?”

  “Dad doesn’t cast a shadow. Dad is a fucking total eclipse. I came to terms with that when I was sixteen.”

  “And? Have you suddenly decided you can’t live without chocolate after all?”

  Logan smiled a little at that. When he was ten, he’d told Smoke the only thing he didn’t like about the idea of becoming a vampire was giving up Tootsie Rolls in favor of chewing on girls. “Not quite. Girls have more appeal than I thought.”

  “So why don’t you have fangs? Morgana predicted you’d be a fine Magus before you could walk, so I know you’ve been cleared.”

  He definitely didn’t want to have this conversation. For one thing, he didn’t want to trigger a rerun of that fucking nightmare. “That’s a long story, and it’s late. I need to hit the sack.”

  “Don’t give me that,” Smoke said roughly. “Something happened to you when you were fourteen. No one will tell me what, including your mother, and she’s never hesitated to tell me anything. Neither did you, once upon a time. All I know is that you suddenly started keeping secrets.”

  “Don’t worry about it, Smoke. It was a long time ago. I’m over it.”

  “Obviously not, or you’d be a Magus.”

  Dammit, when the cat got an idea in his head, he was like a dog with a bone. “I have a satisfying career I’m not ready to give up. That’s all there is to it.”

  “I caught you crying, boy. You never cried. And you wouldn’t tell me why.”

  There was a note of hurt in the cat’s voice he’d never heard before. Guilt needled him, but he couldn’t bring himself to dredge up the whole ugly story. “I’ll tell you later, Smoke. Just . . . not tonight.”

  “Fine.” The cat rose and leaped out of his lap, radiating offended dignity. The door opened, apparently at a wave of magic, and Smoke stalked out. It slammed behind him.

  “Great.” Logan scrubbed both hands through his hair, rose, and went back to bed.

  Maybe if he was lucky, he’d even be able to sleep.

  The alarm went off way too early. Giada groaned as she rolled out of bed and stumbled into the bathroom to let the shower pound her groggy brain awake.

  As the warm, hot spray rained over her body, the details of the night’s erotic dream replayed in her mind in uncomfortable detail.

  Had it been a vision?

  Somehow it didn’t feel like a simple dream, maybe because it had been so kinky. She’d never had bondage fantasies before, so why would her unconscious mind generate one about Logan?

  And how the hell was she supposed to face him this morning with the memory of that incendiary whatever-it-was playing in her head?

  She got out of the shower, dried off, and went to work on her hair and makeup. She’d just finished dressing when her cell rang. She scooped it off the counter. “Hello.”

  “MacRoy’s Taxi Service,” announced a voice that sounded entirely too cheerful. “Hungover?”

  “No, no thanks to you.” Giada grabbed her purse off the bed, waving at Smoke as she headed for the door. He must have come in during her shower. The cat twitched an ear in reply as she closed the door behind her. “How could you let me drink all that tequila?” she continued to Logan. “I babbled like an idiot.”

  “I wouldn’t say ‘idiot.’ You were a very cute drunk.”

  “Oh, thanks a lot.” Just what she didn’t need to hear. “Be down in a minute.” She snapped the cell closed and headed for the elevator.

  Distance, Giada. Keep your distance.

  And for God’s sake, don’t think about that stupid dream.

  FOUR

  Logan had apparently swapped the bomb truck for his department-issued unmarked Impala in a very coplike dark blue. He leaned over to open the car door for her. As usual, he wore his black fatigue pants and a black knit shirt embroidered with a gold sheriff’s star.

  He gave her a rakish smile. “Good morning.”

  “Morning.” She slid into the seat. “Thanks for the ride.” It even sounded grudging to her ears.

  “My, we’re grumpy this morning.” Logan lifted a thick, dark brow. “Sure you’re not hungover?”

  “Rough night. Didn’t sleep well.”

  “Bad dreams?”

  She felt her cheeks begin to heat and quickly turned her head to look out the window. “Something like that.”

  The Greendale Sheriff’s Office was a former corporate headquarters that had been sold to the county when the corporation in question built more upscale digs. It was accordingly much nicer than the taxpayers of Greendale County would have otherwise been willing to spring for. Three blocky stories of mud brown brick, the building was pleasantly ugly, but at least it had plenty of room for the assorted divisions of the sheriff’s office. Including Logan’s lab.

  After stopping by Evidence to pick up the day’s tests, Giada and Logan headed for the lab with a thick stack of manila envelopes containing what might—or might not—be crack cocaine, marijuana, or meth. Each sample would get two separate tests: a presumptive chemical test conducted by hand, then a mass spectrometer run in which liquefied samples would be vaporized and analyzed by computer. The two tests had to agree, or charges would be dropped.

  Giada had been handling the testing process for a week now, b
ut she already worked with speed and competence. Logan watched her weigh the first sample—a few pebble-sized crystals the narcs suspected of being methamphetamine. Then again, the crystals could just as easily be rock salt. The tests would clear up that issue.

  Giada wrote the crystals’ weight on a fresh bag, then cut a few fragments off one with a scalpel. Teeth gently nibbling her lower lip, she tapped the residue off the blade into one of the wells of a white ceramic tray. She picked up a bottle of Marquis solution, a mix of sulfuric acid and formaldehyde, drew an eyedropper of the liquid, and started to squeeze it into the well.

  The dropper’s rubber bulb promptly broke. Acid squirted up from the bulb, splashing right into Giada’s face. “Arhhhh!” She recoiled, hands flying up to her burning skin.

  Thirty-six seconds! Logan realized in horror. They had only thirty-six seconds to wash the acid off, or it would start eating its way into her face.

  “Come on!” Grabbing her by the shoulders, he hustled her across the lab to the shower station. Slapping a hand against the eye-wash tap, he caught the back of her head and pushed her face into the six jets of water that blasted across the station’s sink. The spray splattered around them, soaking his uniform pants. He ignored the sensation, interested only in saving Giada from a scarring chemical burn.

  She started to straighten, sputtering, but he gently pushed her head back down. “Not yet! Make sure we’ve got it all off.”

  Finally Logan decided it was safe to let her rise, wet and gasping. “You okay, babe?” Worried, he grabbed a paper towel and helped her mop her dripping face. “Did it get your eyes?”

  “No, no, just splashed along my temple. Darn, that burns!” Giada shook her head hard, sending droplets flying. “Should have checked that dropper first. Ow!”

  “Let me see.” He turned her around and tilted her chin up.

  “Guess the rubber of that bulb must have gotten so old, it just broke.” She blinked up at him, water streaming down her cheeks.

  “Probably. Sorry.” There was a burn across her left temple, but luckily the acid had missed her eye. “Doesn’t look too bad, but we’d better put something on it anyway.”

  Logan steered her into the supply closet where the first aid kit was kept. He tugged on a pair of rubber gloves and thumbed the top off a tube of Neosporin. She angled her head to the side for him, letting him spread the gel across the burn.

  “Looks like you’ll be fine.” Logan eyed the string of pin-prick holes the acid had burned in the collar of her blouse. “That shirt’s never going to be the same, though.”

  “What?” She glanced down and froze. “Oh.” A tide of charming pink rolled over her cheeks.

  Following her gaze, Logan caught his breath.

  The thin cream fabric of her blouse was soaked through, plainly revealing the lace of her bra cupping her full, pale breasts. Her nipples were a delicate pink, tips drawn tight as budded roses. Logan swallowed hard, his mouth going dry.

  Giada looked up at him, her eyes very wide, gray as storm clouds, water beading on the tips of her long lashes. Her lips parted, as pink and temptingly lush as her nipples.

  Abruptly he was aware of her scent—a trace of jasmine and something clean and herbal. Her breath gusted against his mouth, smelling faintly of mint. Desire hit him, and he hardened in a sweet rush.

  Logan took her mouth before he even knew what he was going to do. Her soft lips yielded under his, opening eagerly for the thrust of his tongue. She moaned, a tiny, arousing sound that made his cock jerk.

  God, she was sweet. Mint and Giada, a combination that made his head swim in furious need.

  His mouth moved over hers, sure and hot and possessive. She shuddered in helpless arousal as he hardened against her belly, the thickness of his erection shocking and exhilarating. He felt so damn big, so muscled and strong.

  Just like last night’s vampire dream. The dream that might have been a vision . . .

  What the hell am I doing?

  Giada jerked away from him with a convulsive jolt, feeling as if somebody had Tasered her. For a moment they stared at each other. His eyes were dark, hungry. Predatory as those of his dream self.

  Was she destined to give him the forbidden Gift? Despite his parents’ orders and his own stated desire to remain mortal?

  This is a really, really bad idea.

  She whirled and fled the closet, dashing across the lab for the door.

  “Giada!”

  She ignored him, racing around the corner toward the ladies’ room. Staggering inside, she fell against the door, breathing hard in a combination of fear and frustrated desire.

  What she saw in the long vanity mirror over the double sinks confirmed her worst suspicions. She looked like the star of a wet T-shirt contest.

  “Damn!” Spotting a hand dryer, Giada twisted its nozzle around and stepped in close in an effort to dry her blouse.

  Bad. This was bad. First erotic dreams, then he’d barely touched her and she’d gone up in flames. Was she that darned desperate?

  Giada had never had this much trouble controlling herself with a man before. It seemed Arthur hadn’t been kidding about the attraction between Latents and Magekind. Yet when she’d been a Latent, she hadn’t felt this kind of insane lust for Renaldo, the vampire who’d Gifted her. They’d made love the required three times and gone their separate ways. She’d never given him another thought.

  So why was Logan developing into an obsession?

  Another glance at the mirror confirmed she was presentable again, though she needed to run a brush through her hair.

  But what the heck was she supposed to do about that kiss?

  What the hell had just happened?

  One minute Giada had been going up in flames in the sweetest kisses he’d ever had. The next, she’d been running for the door. Had he completely misread the situation?

  Logan replayed the kiss in his mind—not exactly a hardship. She’d gazed up at him, looking every bit as dazed as he felt, smoky desire in those gray eyes. Her lips had parted, and then he’d kissed her.

  And she had, by God, kissed him back. That was not the kind of thing a guy misread. Especially not when she’d melted against him like hot butter in the sun. She’d even gotten his shirt damp with her wet blouse; he could feel the thick knit lying cool against his skin.

  Giada had given him plenty of subtle signals before that, too. He’d caught her gaze lingering on his body more than once, though she’d looked away as soon as he caught her at it.

  So why had she run? There’d been outright panic in her eyes when she’d pulled away. What was worse, she’d fled as if she was afraid he’d chase her.

  Had he actually frightened her?

  That thought did the trick of wilting his lingering erection in a hurry. The son of Arthur Pendragon did not terrorize women. Or take advantage of them.

  Or rip out their throats.

  The sick memory of the nightmare rose in his mind, making his stomach twist in horror. Vampires don’t have visions, he reminded himself firmly. It was only a nightmare.

  Besides, he wasn’t a vampire. And even if he had been, he would never have hurt a woman. Real vampires, unlike fictional ones, were not at the mercy of their hunger for blood. Only blood-mad rogues attacked their lovers, and there was no reason to believe Logan was in any danger of going mad when he did receive the Gift. He wasn’t some inexperienced kid without the willpower to control his own body and his own appetites.

  The dream had been a nightmare. That was all.

  As for Giada—he had no idea why she’d taken off like a scalded cat. She wasn’t some inexperienced kid either.

  Unless he’d misread the situation. Badly.

  The lab door creaked as it swung open, and he heard Giada’s heels click as she walked into the room. Logan stepped out of the closet and met her gaze steadily. “Do I owe you an apology?”

  Giada hesitated, two flags of bright red blazing up on her sculpted cheekbones. He relaxed slightly. A woman
didn’t blush like that over an unwelcome advance.

  Instead of answering, she avoided his gaze and walked over to the black marble counter where the abandoned meth test still stood. She swung open one of the glass-fronted cabinets and reached inside to take out another bottle of Marquis solution, then carefully squeezed out a droplet of acid into the sample well. “We can’t do this.”

  “Do what?” Logan took a careful step closer.

  Her head jerked up and she gave him a warning glare. “You know what.”

  “Kiss? Flirt?” He stopped and leaned a hip against the counter. “Have an affair?”

  “An affair is not an option.” She bit the words out and picked up a Sharpie, then pulled the evidence bag over to write the results of the first test across the front.

  “Why? You’re not in my chain of command, and you don’t work for me, so there’s no regulation against our getting involved. You’re just here watching another chemist work. Unless there’s somebody back home . . .”

  Her gaze met his with an angry snap. “I wouldn’t have kissed you if there had been.”

  “So why?”

  “Because I don’t want to. It complicates things.” She used the scalpel to slice a fragment from the suspected meth crystal, then tapped it into a test tube. “I’m trying to learn my job, and I don’t need the distraction.”

  “Fair enough.” Taking a deep breath, he fought down both the stab of disappointment and the desire to argue. “I’ll keep my distance.”

  Giada looked up at him with a trace of suspicion. “Just like that?”

  “Yeah.” He squared his shoulders. “I don’t believe in trying to pressure a woman into doing something she doesn’t want to do. Especially not when it comes to this particular topic.”

  Gray eyes narrowed, studied him. Then, slowly, she nodded. “Good. Because an affair wouldn’t be a good idea.”

  Who are you trying to convince? Logan wondered. Me—or yourself?

  Then he gritted his teeth. Cut it out. If she doesn’t want to get involved, that’s the end of it.