“Who are you?” I managed to ask after I caught my breath, which wasn’t easy, given that my abductor was apparently jumping over a bunch of ruts. Or at least, that’s what it felt like from where I was slung over his shoulder. “Why are you doing this? And who’s Victor?”

“Do not play games with me. It will get you nowhere.” The man’s voice was deep, with an Irish twang that sent little ripples of pleasure down my spine despite the fact that he’d just kidnapped me. I tried a kick of my legs, since my arms were plastered to my sides inside the bag, but he slapped my behind. “None of that.”

“Hey!” I yelled through the bag, spitting out a bit of material that was in my way when I inhaled. “Stop touching my behind! I will not be mauled by anyone, least of all a brutish kidnapper.”

“I am not brutish,” the man said, bending down in a way that almost had me falling off him. Luckily, his arm tightened around my legs. “I did not savage you as you deserve. In fact, I have treated you quite well.”

“I do not deserve to be savaged! I’m a nice person! And if you call jamming a bag over my head and picking me up like I’m a bag of bark treating me well, then I’d hate to see what you think ... hey! What the bejeepums are you doing? Let go of me!”

My voice rose in outrage when he bent again, this time letting me slide off his body, but not before his hand cupped my derriere again. I gasped when he whipped off the bag, and found myself staring up into familiar indigo eyes.

Behind me was a black car, but it was the man in front of me who held my attention. He stared right back at me, his eyes narrowing as I gaped at him, my Inner Tempest cheering and urging me to grab the man by his head and kiss the dickens out of him.

“It’s you,” I said stupidly, then realized the inanity of my comment. “Merrick, isn’t it?”

His eyes narrowed further until the blue glinted ominously. “How do you know me? Was it Victor? Did he tell you about me? Where is he now?”

With each sentence, he moved forward, forcing me to back up until I bumped into the car.

“Whoa, now,” I said, holding up a hand and pushing on his chest. He didn’t budge, just stood there, toe-to-toe with me, his nostrils flared slightly as if he was trying to catch a scent. Holy moly, was he impressive when he was standing upright. “Less of that bossy tone, if you don’t mind. I don’t know anyone named Victor, not that I’m sure I’d tell you if I did, what with you abducting me without so much as a Hi, hello, how are you, mind if I pick you up and fondle your derriere?”

An exasperated look flashed across his face, and he actually backed up a step, letting my hand drop from his chest. “It wouldn’t be much of an abduction if I chatted you up first.”

“Just because you’re a brute doesn’t mean you can’t be polite,” I said with a serenity I was far from feeling. My insides were all fluttery from seeing him again and feeling the warmth of that hard chest beneath my hand. I wanted nothing more than to slide my hands beneath his shirt so I could stroke the muscles... With a start, I realized he was speaking and I hadn’t heard a word. “Er ... sorry, what was that?”

He looked outraged. “Asking me to repeat myself needlessly is not going to make things any easier for you.”

“It’s not needlessly. I was ... er ... woolgathering.”

He looked even more outraged, if that was possible. Then an oddly martyred look filled his gorgeous eyes. “Are you trying to goad me into killing you? Is that it? You think that you can escape me through death? It won’t work. I refuse to kill you.”

“Good,” I said, and actually smiled at him. It struck me that I wasn’t frightened of him, not really scared, not like I would be if someone else had shoved a bag over my head and carried me off somewhere. This wasn’t anyone else, though. This was a vampire, one whose life I flattered myself to think I’d saved. And even if I hadn’t exactly saved him, at least we’d had the single most erotic experience of my life.

I was musing over the oddness of my reaction—lots of women had erotic interludes with men who turned out to be abusive or evil—when I realized that he’d been speaking, and once again I’d missed what he had said. “Sorry, what was that? I was ... er ... thinking of something.”

“You’re doing this on purpose,” he growled—actually growled the words at me. “Well, it won’t work. I refuse to allow you to anger me.”

“Awesome!” I said brightly. “Anger is so overrated, don’t you think? I mean, if anyone has a right to be angry about all the crap—pardon my French—that’s gone down over the years, it’s me, and I learned long ago that it doesn’t do any good. So I’m glad you’re not mad and don’t want to kill me, because I don’t particularly feel like courting death today. Maybe another time, but not now that I’ve seen you.”

“You will explain how you know me,” he started to say, but a shout from behind him, from the region of Carlo’s house, had him casting a glance over his shoulder. We stood outside the gate, which was closed (and had me momentarily wondering how he’d gotten us through it), but before I could ask, he opened the car door, and more or less shoved me inside.

“What the—” My protests were cut off by the slamming door.

He started around to the front of the car. I opened the door and jumped out, racing to the gate. Inner Tempest asked me what the dickens I thought I was doing, but I told her to mind her own business, and also, that I wasn’t going to take being kidnapped without protest, not even when the abductor was the handsome-eyed vampire who’d given me so much pleasure.

He was on me before I even reached the gate.

“No,” was all he said, swinging me up and marching back to the car. This time, he tossed me into the backseat before taking his place behind the wheel.

“Gah! Stupid kid locks,” I snarled, trying to open the back door.

“Who were you trying to warn?” he asked, putting the car into gear and zooming off into the night with such speed that I was thrown back against the seat.

“No one. I’ve always felt that if I was ever abducted, it would be mandatory to try to escape. Why are you kidnapping me?”

“I saw you in Victor’s garden. Clearly you are his woman. Thus, I took you so that you can give me information on him.”

“I don’t understand who this Victor person is, but even if I did, why didn’t you just say, ‘Hey, I want to talk to you—can we have a little chat over here?’ rather than stuffing a bag over my head? You’re lucky I don’t have an elaborate hairstyle.” I ran a hand through my tangle of hair.

His eyes met mine in the rearview mirror. An odd expression of speculation took hold of his face, almost as if he was trying to figure something out. Who are you?

“Do you often kidnap people you don’t know?” I shook my head. “You’re never going to get ahead that way.”

“What are you talking about?” He made a noise of annoyance, and pulled the car to a stop at an overlook. There wasn’t much of a moon, but what there was glinted on the now black sea. “I know who you are. You are Victor’s woman.”

“I don’t know anyone named Victor,” I repeated, hitting the back of the seat in frustration. “My name, in case you are wondering, and you should be if you aren’t, since it’s only polite to know the name of your abductee, is Tempest Keye.”

“That name means nothing to me,” he said slowly.

“Thanks for that,” I said, then, with an irritated click of my tongue, started climbing over the seat.

“What are you doing?” he asked, reeling back.

“Climbing up front so I can talk to you rather than the back of your fat head.”

“My head is not fat!”

“I meant that figuratively rather than literally. Ow. Would you move your arm—ow! Stop trying to help!” I managed to get over the seat into the front without flashing too much leg. “If I’d known I was going to be doing this, I’d have worn pants rather than a sundress. Whew. OK. Now we can talk.”

The look he gave me was one of mingled puzzlement and exasperation. “You are not at all what I expected.”

“Since you evidently have me mistaken for someone else, I’m not surprised.” I stuck out my hand. “Let’s do this properly, shall we? Hi. I’m Tempest, and I don’t know anyone named Victor.”

He looked at my hand for a moment, then reluctantly shook it. “I am Merrick Simon.”

“I know.” I smiled at him, getting a good look at his face when he switched on the interior lights. He had a slightly Slavic look about him despite his Celtic accent, with high cheekbones, a sharp jawline, and a narrowly squared chin. I had the worst urge to reach out a hand and draw a line along that jaw, wondering if the hint of stubble felt as nice as it looked. Inner Tempest urged me to do just that, but I told her to turn off her motor, and stick to what was important—like why the vampire whom I’d fed was now kidnapping me.

“How do you know?”

It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him that Allie had told me all about him and his three Horsemen buddies, but remembered in time that she’d asked me not to mention it to anyone. I didn’t want to get her into trouble after she’d been so honest with me. “Um. That’s ... I can’t tell you.”

He squinted at me. “Why not?”

“Because I promised someone I wouldn’t. But you can take it from me that it was someone nice. That is, someone who isn’t a bad guy. Why did you kidnap me? Why didn’t you just talk to me? I mean, after what we’ve been through, you can’t think I’d yell or scream at seeing you.”

“What we’ve been through?” He looked downright confused now, and it struck me with a blow that was almost physical that he truly had no idea who I was. He didn’t remember me! We’d shared the most profoundly important physical relationship I’d ever had, and he didn’t remember it.

My brain whirled around trying to process this fact, and it wasn’t until he placed a finger under my chin and gently pushed upward that I realized my jaw had dropped at the realization. I blinked at him a couple of times, unsure of what to say that didn’t sound either bitchy or extremely needy.

“I ... I ... ” I stammered, and came to a halt. “We ... uh ... we’ve met,” I finished lamely.

“When?” He gave me a visual once-over. “I don’t remember meeting you.”

“We have, regardless.”

His gaze settled on my hair, an odd expression on his face. “Your hair ...”

I touched a curl. “It’s red.”

“Yes. There’s something ...” He closed his eyes for a few seconds, clearly trying to remember. I held my breath, waiting for him to tell me that he recognized the face of his savior, but all he did was shake his head, opening his eyes to reveal nothing but vague suspicion. “It’s not important.”

Oh, he did not just say that, Inner Tempest gasped in horror. I fought back the desire to tell Merrick just how we’d met, but my pride had me keeping silent. It was bad enough that I wasn’t memorable enough to remember having sex with me, but I’d be horn-chicken-swoggled before I went for the pity points and told him I’d saved his life. No, I told Inner Tempest, we’ve been hurt before, and we managed to get through it. This rejection is no different than any other. We will maintain our dignity.

Dignity can be overrated, came the thought wafting into my brain as if on the breeze.

“What?” I asked.

“What what?” He frowned at me.

“Did you say something?”

“Not right before you spoke, no.” Merrick started the car again, and swung out onto the road without another word.

“Where are we going?” I asked, wondering if I should be worried, and then being concerned because I wasn’t the least bit disconcerted by the fact that he was taking me away from Cousin Carlo’s villa.

Shouldn’t I be bothered? I was hurt because he didn’t remember me, but shouldn’t I be worried that he was a deranged ax-murdering rapist vampire with a fetish for Americans, even if C. J. Dante knew him? Surely wisdom decreed I should not be feeling calm and collected in this situation.

Why not? came the question on that same sort of odd wafting breeze of thought.

“OK, now you did talk,” I said, snapping the seat belt into place before poking him on the arm.

“I did not.”

“Don’t try to make me think I’m the odd one in this car, because you’re winning not only the tiara but the cape and bouquet when it comes to that.”

He sighed a martyred sigh and muttered something under his breath in a language I didn’t know.

“And now you’re saying things about me in a language I don’t speak, which is all shades of rude.” I crossed my arms and looked out of the window at the passing night. “I would never speak behind the back of someone I kidnapped.”

“I apologize. Next time, I will abuse you to your face.”

“Thank you,” I said, giving him a smile that I didn’t wholly feel he deserved, but it’s always better to give people the benefit of the doubt.

He cast me a quick startled glance before focusing on the road. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“Yes. Wouldn’t you rather know what’s being said about you than having people hide it?”

Sometimes, it’s best not to know.

“Oh, I don’t buy that at all,” I told him, watching with interest as we joined a highway that led south and east.

“You don’t buy what?”

“That it’s best not to know.”

He slammed on the brakes, causing the car to fishtail wildly for a couple of seconds. At the same time, he rammed his arm across my torso, keeping me from snapping myself painfully against the seat belt.

“What on earth?” I gasped, the air having been knocked out of my lungs with the movement.

He pulled off the road, and turned to look at me, flipping on the interior light again. “What did you say?”

“I said ‘what on earth,’ as in what on earth do you think you’re doing?” I touched my neck where the seat belt had rubbed. “Man alive, Merrick! Could you warn me when you’re going to do that again?”

I will, if you promise to answer a question.

“What question?”

He was silent, watching me with an intensity that I found equal parts exciting and worrisome.

You ought to be worried.

“I don’t see why ... hey. Your lips didn’t move when you said that. Are you a ventriloquist?”

“No.”

“How did you do that, then?”

You can hear me.

“Of course I can.”

No one can hear me. Not like this. His eyes narrowed. Who are you?

“I told you. I’m Tempest Keye.”

Why can you hear my thoughts?

I gasped and stared openmouthed at him for the second time in a few minutes. “Holy shish kebab! Is that what I’m doing?”

How are you doing it?

I don’t know.

You must. There has to be a reason for you to be able to do this.

I gasped again. “You heard me, too? Jeezumcrow! We can mind-read each other! I read about that in C. J. Dante’s books, but I thought it was a bit of literary license on his part. Cheese and crackers! We can mind-talk!”

He froze solid, just like he was a block of extremely sexy vampire.

His nostrils flared slightly. “You find me sexually attractive?”

“Gloriana, you heard that?” I slapped a hand over first my mouth, then, when I realized that didn’t make any sense, my ears, just as if that would hold in my wicked thoughts about his naked self. “Ack! Pretend I didn’t have a smutty thought about you, OK?”

Another one of those indescribable expressions passed over his face. “I cannot help it when you project into my mind. If you don’t want me hearing them, then do not be so brazen with your thoughts.”

I dropped my hands. “Oh, I am so not projecting! I wouldn’t know how to if I wanted to. You’re eavesdropping, that’s what it is. And eavesdroppers never prosper, so you can put that in your pipe and smoke it.”

Now he just looked confused. “What pipe?”

“There’s not ... it’s a saying ... oh, never mind.” I thinned my lips at him. “The point is that people who deliberately listen to other people’s thoughts about how sexy they are deserve what they get. Wait ... that came out wrong.”

He made an exasperated noise and glanced over his shoulder, then pulled back onto the highway.

I felt oddly deflated for a few minutes before realizing that he hadn’t responded to my comment.

I smacked him lightly on the arm. “Don’t you know what this means?”

“Yes. I will have to practice my mental barriers more.”

“No, I mean what the implication of it is. Don’t you read C. J. Dante’s books? Boy, and you’re a vampire. You’d think you’d know this stuff.”

He slammed on the brakes again, pulling over, much to the annoyance of the car directly behind us. The face he turned to me was filled with suspicion. “Who. Are. You?”

“We’ve been over this like a dozen times,” I said, somewhat exasperated. “OK, three times, but still. I’m Tempest Keye.”

“How do you know I’m a Dark One if you are not Victor’s woman?”

“I can’t say. Wait, actually, I can’t discuss all of it, but I can tell you that I was at C. J. Dante’s castle and saw you there.”

“You know Christian?”

“Yes. Kind of. Mostly he asked me to leave, but I did see you there. For a little bit.”

“What else did you see?” His voice was gritty, and I could tell he was trying to intimidate me.

“Nothing. There was a conversation about you, but as I said, I can’t talk about it because I promised I wouldn’t.”

He leaned forward, menace rolling off him. “And if I told you that I would make you sorry if you did not tell me?”

“I’d tell you the same thing,” I said, swallowing back a little spurt of fear. Maybe I wasn’t so comfortable with him as I first thought. After all, what did I know about him other than he was a hell of a lover, and evidently on a crusade to rid the world of some bad people? “A promise is a promise.”

He sat back after giving me a long look, and pulled back onto the road. “It is a rare woman who holds true to her word.”

“I can only hope that’s not a slur against women, because I don’t tolerate that crap.”

I assure you, the same applies to men.

“Good. To answer your question—to the extent that I can—I know you’re a vampire because I had a dream about you.”

“Dark One.”

“Sorry?”

“We prefer the term Dark One.”

“Yeah, but that sounds so ...” I waved a hand around in a vague gesture. “Hollywood. ‘Vampire’ is sexy and dark and brooding and big box office, whereas ‘Dark One’ sounds kind of demonic, you know what I mean? I meant to ask C. J. Dante about it, but I didn’t get the chance. Where are we going? I don’t mind taking a little trip, but I don’t want my cousin Carlo to worry, and all my stuff is back at his house.”

Merrick said nothing, just drove on with a grimness that was worrying.

“So, this mind-talking thing. You are aware of how that works, right? It’s one of the steps.”

His jaw tightened.

“There’s seven steps that you vamps have to go through before ... glorious grapefruit! Do you know what this means?” I punched him on the arm. “It means I’m your Beloved!”

The protest I was waiting for didn’t come, which more than a little surprised me ... and, to be honest, somewhat disappointed me. In every Dark Ones book I’d read, the vampire always protested at first that the heroine wasn’t his Beloved, before finally coming to his senses. And yet, here was a real live vampire, and he didn’t bat an eyelash at finding out that I was the woman who was put on this earth to save him.

Me! I was a savior! My mind boggled at the serendipity of it all.

“I don’t need saving,” he said, his attention focused on driving. “And if I did, you would not be my Beloved. As you pointed out, there are steps that must be taken.”

“Yes, well.” I gave a little cough and ignored my warm cheeks. “As it happens, when I saw you at Dante’s castle, I might have ... there was some ... uh ... medical aid given. And we might have exchanged some body fluid.”

“You kissed me while I was unconscious?” he asked, disbelief dripping off every word.

“You kissed back,” I pointed out.

He said nothing, but his jaw worked a couple of times.

“Anyway, it all boils down to the fact that I’m your Beloved because you’re unredeemed, right? According to Dante’s books, that means you don’t have a soul, and only your Beloved can get it back for you. So that makes me your soul-finder. It’s like this was meant to be all along! Why else would my aunt give me Dante’s books if I wasn’t supposed to be here at this exact moment, poised to save your eternal self? Hoo! Sometimes life really takes your breath away, doesn’t it?”

I sat back, my pleasure at how life had worked out fading when he didn’t say (or think at me) anything more.

“Well?” I asked him when the silence became too much for me.

“What do you want me to say?” he asked irritably, flashing me an annoyed glance.

“A little excitement wouldn’t be out of order,” I said, perilously close to snapping at him. What was wrong with him that he wasn’t happy at finding me? “Out of all of the millions of people in the world, over all the years you’ve lived—wait, how old are you?”

“Seven hundred and eighty-two.”

I gawked at him, just let my jaw drop and gawked. “You’re not!”

“I just said I was.” He flashed me another irritated look. “Why do you contradict me? It is annoying, and I don’t like it.”

“You don’t look a day over seven hundred,” I told him, ignoring his bossiness. I’ve found that is the best way to deal with people who try to dominate you. “Where was I? Oh, yes, if you think about all the people in the world who’ve lived over the last seven hundred and eighty-six years—”

“Seven hundred and eighty-two.”

“—then it has to boggle your brain that we’ve managed to come together. According to C. J. Dante’s books, not many of you guys find your Beloveds.”

“Not every Dark One needs a Beloved. They are a weakness, and some of us must remain strong.” He looked nobly martyred, something I wanted to point out, but decided he’d take the wrong way.

“That’s one way of thinking about it. Here’s another: There’s strength in numbers. Two have to be stronger than one. Oh my goodness, I cannot wait to tell Ellis about you! He didn’t think vampires existed, not really. He’s going to go gaga when he finds out I have a Dark One of my own.”

“I am not yours. I do not belong to anyone. I am utterly and wholly alone, and I wish to remain that way,” he growled.

“Sure you are,” I said, going over just what I’d tell Ellis. “This is going to be so awesome, although I have to say, I wasn’t planning on coming to Europe to get married.”

The look he shot me was filled with disbelief. “Did I, at some point that I’m unaware of, slip into a mental fugue or catatonic state, during which time I asked you to marry me?”

“No, but—”

“Then I believe I have the right to say, without you feeling spurned, that I have no intention on marrying anyone, but most of all you.”

“Well!” I said, miffed. “Why me most of all? I’m your Beloved.”

“You are not my Beloved. What you are is an extremely opinionated woman who doesn’t seem to understand the world you’ve stepped into. That’s assuming you’re as innocent as you claim to be.”

I let the miffed feeling go, having learned long ago not to hold on to negative emotions. I’d seen too much how that affected people, and had made it my personal motto to not give in to negativity. “I don’t recall telling you I was innocent.”

He sighed heavily. “You said you are not Victor’s woman despite being in the location that I found you.”

“That was my cousin Carlo’s house. There’s no one there by the name of Victor.”

He gripped the steering wheel tightly, and muttered under his breath.

“You’re doing it again,” I said conversationally. “You said you’d abuse me to my face next time, and you haven’t.”

It took a moment for him to speak, because the muscles in his jaw kept flexing, but at last he got them unclenched. “I said that conversation with you was like talking in circles. I never know what you’re going to say next.”

“Yes, but that’s a good thing,” I pointed out, and sat back in my seat. “It’ll keep us from getting bored over the centuries. Oh! I get to be immortal, too! Hoobah! That’s going to be a kick in the pants! Except, of course, for outliving all your friends, but we’ll have each other, and that’s what is important.”

Silence filled the car, a pregnant sort of silence. It lasted for the count of twenty. “Now that I’m a Beloved—”

“You are not.”

“—I’ll have to tell Ellis.” I sighed happily. “Ellis—he’s my friend; you’ll like him—doesn’t get into the whole vampire thing, although he loved that movie with the sparkly vampires. He said they didn’t have their shirts off enough, though.”

Merrick grimaced. “I have never understood the mortal fascination with Dark Ones. Vampire lore has permeated modern society at all levels, from gangs of women roaming the streets on the hunt for us, to movies and books and even video games extolling our virtues. Perhaps you can tell me what the attraction is, because it has escaped me.”

“Well ...” I bit my lip and considered the matter, sensing that he was speaking the truth. He honestly was puzzled by the fact that women the world over were ready to fling their clothing off and wrestle men like him to the ground. “You guys are all dark and dangerous and sexy.”

“Other men are dangerous and sexy,” he answered, and I caught an unreadable look slid my way. “Terrorists. Madmen. Homicidal ax-murdering rapists.”

“Yes, but they’re bad. You vampires are dangerous, but in a thrilling way. Dark Ones don’t hurt women.”

“I wish that were true, but unfortunately, there are bad Dark Ones just as there are bad mortals.”

“Most of you don’t hurt others,” I amended, and he conceded that point. “And you are loyal, and protective, and have an edge to you that leaves a woman thrilled without being worried she’s going to be hacked to pieces and left by the side of the road—stop!”

I shrieked the last word, causing him to once again slam on the car’s brakes. Luckily, there weren’t many other cars on the road, and he managed to pull over onto the shoulder without endangering us or anyone else.

“What is it now?” he asked, his voice dripping with annoyance.

I had the car door open and was out of it before he finished his sentence, calling over my shoulder as I ran down the side of the road, “There’s a dog back there.”

“So?” He was out of the car now, too, standing beside it and looking very annoyed.

“This is a fast road, so I can’t leave a dog here to be hit. Here, doggy. Come here. Oh, there you are. Hi. You look scared.”

The dog, some sort of a white shepherd, shied away and ran past me. I held my breath, wanting to yell lest it run right into the traffic, but luckily, the dog had enough sense to lope along the shoulder, straight toward Merrick.

“Catch it!” I yelled, hurrying after the poor creature.

He didn’t need to. The dog ran straight up to him and tried to climb him in its terror. Merrick, with a look that would have made me laugh in a less dire situation, picked up the dog and stood waiting for me.

“Oh, good, he’s OK. I thought he was going to run right into the traffic. Let’s get him into the car.” I opened the back door, gesturing toward the interior.

“You do not honestly expect me to place this stray into one of Christian’s expensive cars,” he said, his brows together.

“Of course I do. It’s our duty to rescue those who need our help,” I said self-righteously, and gestured again to the interior.

“Since when?”

“Since you developed a moral compass. Put the dog in, Merrick.”

He considered me for a minute. And if I don’t?

I’ll never speak to you again.

That is supposed to be a threat?

“Of course it’s a threat, you great big boob!”

He pulled himself up, his shoulders squaring even though he was holding a large white dog to his chest. “I am a Dark One. I walk the night, and am feared by mortal and immortal beings alike. I am not a boob.”

“You are if you think that losing your Beloved isn’t going to make your life a living hades,” I pointed out, and tried to pull the dog from his arms.

“I’ve survived this long without you,” he said dismissively. “I don’t see any reason I can’t go another eight hundred years.”

“I am going to ignore how wrong you are, and instead, I will point out that you have to do what your Beloved says.”

He gave a short bark of laughter. “In what world is that a rule?”

“In C. J. Dante’s books!”

“Perhaps for a Joined pair, but we are not Joined,” he said, but to my relief put the dog on the backseat of the car. “Despite your ability to access my thoughts, that does not mean you hold any sway over me. We will get along together better if you remember that.”

He moved around to the driver’s side while I tried to think of a good comeback for that statement, but my Inner Tempest failed me. She was too busy swooning over just how tight his shirt had been across his muscles while he was holding a dog who must have weighed at least eighty pounds.

I got into the car, and didn’t say anything when he drove off, but I thought a lot of things.

Not all of them had to do with wanting to get him naked.