Marcus softly closed the hotel room door behind him. Immediately, his head snapped back and his nostrils flared. He looked down the short hall to an alcove. A tall, muscular body appeared, followed by the words, “The colonel is looking for you.”

Marcus scowled at Gideon Dimarco, the colonel’s guard dog. “How did you find me?” The why didn’t matter nearly as much as the how. Marcus took great care concealing his scent from those who were as cursed as he.

Dimarco strode out into the harsh light. “I could smell you fucking all the way out on Filmore.” His sharp gaze went past Marcus to the door he had just exited. “Any left?”

Marcus strode toward him. Dimarco was bloodthirsty and lacked self-control. Although he was older than Marcus by a few decades, his maker, Gustav, was not nearly as powerful as Marcus’s maker—Thorkeel Rus, aka Colonel Joseph Lazarus. That in and of itself made Dimarco of no consequence to Marcus, except for the fact that he didn’t trust him.

Or like him.

Just as he passed Dimarco, Marcus reached out and grabbed him by the throat, shoving him so hard against the wall that the impact dented the drywall. A light fixture shattered, dimming the area. Gideon’s eyes burned red in his fury. “Don’t fucking go there.” Marcus let go of him, then proceeded past him to the elevator.

A short time later, Marcus strolled nonchalantly into the colonel’s Oakland lair. He didn’t feel nonchalant, however; quite the opposite. He was pissed. Pissed because an underling like Dimarco had tracked him down and, in the process, inadvertently tracked down Jax. But Gideon he could handle, if he had to. He’d pay for it in the end, but he’d protect what he had to and deal with the consequences.

Marcus faltered for a split second. The thought of protecting the woman who had gotten under his skin unnerved him. It unnerved him almost as much as the unexpected warmth that had surfaced when he’d realized he had a sister. He had protected her too, by calling off Jax. And he knew Lazarus wasn’t going to like that.

Through the wide eastern-exposed window in front of him, he glanced at the pinkening horizon. The tall, dark figure of his maker was illuminated against the pastel sunrise. Unlike most vampires, Lazarus was, with considerable precautions, able to venture into the sunlight, but only for a short time. Marcus had long envied that ability, but not anymore. Recently, Marcus had discovered that he, too, could withstand the sun’s more tender rays, but only on the fringes of dusk and dawn, never at the height of the day. He was sure that by the time Lazarus was done with him, enough time would have passed that he’d be stuck here, forced to spend the day as the colonel’s guest—something he never enjoyed.

“Sir?” Marcus asked as he stepped farther into the room.

Lazarus slowly turned. As he did, Marcus saw the slight flare of his nostrils. He knew Jax’s blood scent was all over him. Hell, a damn rock could smell it.

“I see you had some good blood sport last night,” the colonel murmured.

Marcus nodded. “Very good.” And it was true. Being with Jax had infused him with a shot of mortality he had unknowingly missed.

As he approached the colonel, he too detected a new blood scent. It was pungent, floral, with a hint of perfume. Marcus halted in midstep. The scent. It was oddly familiar but distinctly different. Last night. In the Green Room. Eerily similar to his mother’s scent. He shook off the absurdity of his thoughts. He was mistaken. Many blood scents were similar. Besides, Lazarus would never betray him like that. Marcus smiled. “It seems, sir, I’m not the only one.”

Lazarus scowled, apparently not liking the fact that Marcus knew anything about his extracurricular activities. Before Marcus could consider the idea further, Lazarus spoke. “Why is the Rowland girl still alive?”

Marcus shrugged and walked toward the rising sunlight. He felt the warmth of the rays as they penetrated the glass. If felt good. Comforting. For the first time since he could remember, he wanted to wake up to the sun with a woman in his arms. One particular woman. While the image warmed him, the reality of his folly chilled his blood.

He shook the ridiculous longing off and turned to face the colonel, continuing to enjoy the warmth on his back. Gideon hissed in the darkened corner, envious of where he dared not step.

“She’s still alive because I chose not to eliminate her last night.” Marcus decided at that moment not to divulge to his maker the fact that he knew Grace Rowland was his sister. If Lazarus knew, then it was simply a test, a test Marcus would pass on his terms. If he didn’t know, then things were certainly going to get more complicated.

Lazarus’s scowl deepened. He glanced at Gideon, then back at Marcus. “And since when do you determine these things?”

“I have always determined them, sir. It took me three weeks to finally get the opening I needed to take out Blalock. The stars were not aligned last night to eliminate Grace Rowland.”

“Maybe if you weren’t so wrapped up in nailing that piece of fluff this morning, you could have taken out the mark,” Gideon sneered from the shadows. Marcus raised his hand and shoved hard at the air. The centrifugal force sent Gideon flying into the corner. Gideon growled and came at him, but the colonel stopped him with one piercing glance. Marcus smirked.

“What I do on my time is no concern of yours, Dimarco.”

The colonel stalked closer to Marcus. “Tell me of this blood sport.”

“I suspect she’s part of the organization Rowland hired.”

The colonel smiled, his fangs glittering in the rising sunlight. “Ah, now I understand.”

He turned back to Gideon, who was literally beginning to simmer. “Go to ground, Gideon, before you turn to a pile of ash.”

Dimarco dashed past them both into the darkness of the hall and, Marcus assumed, to the blacked-out bedroom where he would spend the day untouched by the sun.

The colonel turned his attention back to Marcus and asked, “You’ve grown less sensitive to the sun, I see.”

Marcus turned back to the window and raised his face to the golden glow. “It feels good.” Then he turned back to his maker. “Before I could only handle the first blush of dawn; then I had to go to ground like Dimarco. Why is my resistance stronger now?”

The colonel stood silent for a long time. When he did not answer immediately, Marcus surmised there was only one reason. Marcus possessed some hidden or latent power the colonel didn’t want him to know about. One the colonel was threatened by. For the second time, Marcus felt disappointed in Lazarus. And now, wary of him.

Lazarus moved to stand beside Marcus. He faced the rising of the sun himself. “My blood, the same blood that flows through your veins, is of the oldest and strongest of our kind. Combined with Aelia’s, you have inherited great power. Be thankful.”

“I am. But I havn’t always been able to tolerate the sun as I can now.”

“The glass acts as a buffer. If you were to go out as you are now and stand beneath the sun, you would fry in seconds.”

Marcus tried not to show his disappointment. “What other powers am I to come into with time?” And why haven’t you told me about them? he thought.

Lazarus chuckled and shook his head. “There is time for that, son, but not today. Today I want you to school me. Tell me about the woman,” he softly said.

Marcus knew there was no way of getting around the subject of Jax. He could minimize her and, in so doing, pique Lazarus’s interest, or he could throw her into the snake pit and be her champion. He chose the latter. “She’s holding out, but with some more maneuvering, I’ll get her right where I need her.”

“Bring her in. I’d be happy to hone my extraction skills.”

Marcus was surprised by the urge to strike out. He was well aware of the colonel’s tactics. He’d witnessed countless inhumane torture sessions. He’d only stomached them because the ones being tortured had themselves acted more inhumanely to innocents. Even so, if Lazarus sensed Marcus’s need to protect Jax, he would only push the point. “Bringing her in will not be a problem; she wants in, as a Solution operative.”

Lazarus looked at Marcus in stunned silence. Marcus nodded. Jax Cassidy amazed him on so many levels. His next words reflected his respect for her. “She’s got some balls too. I think we should bring her in, act like we’re interested, even give her a mission. Make her prove herself. Then, if she really does have what it takes to operate to our standards, convert her to our way of life, then use her as a double agent for the organization she’s working for.”

Lazarus stood silent and contemplative for a long moment, then spoke. “We suspect she works for a covert organization, the same covert organization Rowland has retained to protect him from us, and you want to bring her into the fold?”

“Yes.”

“What makes you so sure she will obey if I turn her?”

Marcus set his jaw. “You will not turn her. I will.”

Lazarus smiled, his fangs glistening beneath the morning sunlight. “You know the rules, Marcus. Only district or coven leaders posses the power to turn a mortal, and only with the coven leader’s approval.”

Marcus smiled back, showing his own fangs. “Then promote me.”

Lazarus shook his head. “You’re not ready.”

Immediately taking offense, Marcus clenched his jaw. “I’m more than ready. As a mortal, I was squad leader, and would have been promoted to captain, then unit leader, had I not been ambushed by that band of Pakistani drug smugglers. I’ve carried out every Solution mission successfully. I have your respect and that of my fellow operatives.”

“I decide who is promoted, and I say you are not ready.”

Marcus paused, then sneered, “Would Rurik think the same?”

Lazarus shoved Marcus so hard that he flew across the room and crashed into the mirrored bar in the dining room. Lazarus flew at him, but Marcus, furious at being treated like a mere minion, was ready. He dove headlong into his maker’s path, and together they crashed to the floor, rolling over the furniture, breaking everything in their wake. Seconds later, they whirled up and hit the ceiling, landed with a crash against the wall in the living room, then crashed through the double-wide sliding glass door out onto the patio.

Sunlight hit Marcus’s skin, warming it to hot, but not so hot that he burned. Lazarus immediately moved into the darkness of the condominium, trying to pull Marcus with him. Marcus shook him off. Slowly, he stood and faced the rising sun. No glass separated him from the ultraviolet rays. He did not burn.

Lazarus had lied to him.

He turned to find his maker carefully watching him. This was not the first time they’d quarreled, but it was the first time they’d physically tangled. The first time Marcus had let his anger move him so that, unthinkingly, he’d challenged his maker. Now, it appeared, the student rivaled the teacher.

“There is no glass that separates me and the sun,” Marcus taunted, “and yet I am intact.” Even as he said the words, he felt a slight cramp of nausea in his gut.

Lazarus straightened his jacket and smoothed back his hair, then tsked. “You are stronger than I thought, Marcus. Do not let it go to your head.”

Marcus tried to withstand the nausea but couldn’t. He strode past Lazarus into the cool darkness of the abode. Immediately, his stomach quelled, but he was indisputably rattled. He might be gaining power, but he was still no match for Lazarus and his army of rabid vampires. It had been foolish for him to mention Rurik, knowing how Lazarus would react. Foolish to think he could best him. He couldn’t forget that he still needed his maker. Or that he owed him his life, limited as it was. He wasn’t going to ruin their relationship for a woman he didn’t trust. What had he been thinking? He turned to his maker and made a slight bow. “My pardon for evoking Rurik’s name. I won’t do it again.”

Lazarus placed his hand on Marcus’s shoulder. “Take my chamber and go to ground. You won’t be disturbed. We’ll talk when you arise.”

“About the woman—” Marcus insisted, not willing to let the matter go.

Lazarus sliced his hand in the air. “Enough. It will be as you wish,” he snapped. “But only because I wish it.”

Marcus nodded, then strode down the hall. Despite Lazarus’s generosity, he knew things had irrevocably changed between him and his maker.

And not for the better.

---

Jax woke with a start, jackknifing straight up in the bed. Sunshine streamed through the windows, warming her naked body. She gazed about the room. Linens and pillows littered the floor and lay strewn across the furniture. Her robe lay in a heap by the bathroom door.

Sounds and scents reverberated with precise clarity. One scent overrode everything else—Cross’s earthy scent. It swirled in the air, across her skin. She touched her fingertips to her neck and felt the harsh rush of her blood beneath her fingertips. His presence swirled in her blood. She rose from the bed, feeling light on her feet.

Where was he? Had he—?

She shook her head and cursed her stupidity. Of course he didn’t do mornings. Vampires didn’t like the sun and all that. And after last night, Jax had no doubts. A vampire was exactly what Marcus was.

Besides, she snorted to herself, vampire or not, she’d bet he was the kind of guy that skulked out in the wee hours of the morning.

She strode to the window and pushed the curtains all the way open. Sunlight flooded the room, she blinked at the brightness. The city bustled beneath her, oblivious to her and what had transpired in this room. Her heart rate hitched up a few notches. What had happened? It was like nothing she had ever experienced. It had been wild. Frenzied. Epic.

Marcus’s initial gentleness had surprised her. Then it had turned her into a pile of malleable mush. Never in a million years would she have believed he was capable of such tenderness.

And never in a million years had she thought she could be so dumb!

She closed her eyes and summoned an image of Marcus. She felt his power, his passion . . . his seething anger at the world. The way he’d reverently trailed his fingertips across her skin. Jax dragged her fingers through her hair and shook the thick strands. Taking a deep breath, she silently cursed herself.

Shit!

What had she done?

Compromised the entire mission by allowing herself to become emotionally involved with her mark! Yeah, she had some power over him, she could push his buttons, but he had her number, too. Shit! Shit! Shit! She grabbed her robe from the floor and shrugged it on. Now, she had to make it right. While she waited for her laptop to boot up, she made quick use of the bathroom. When she returned, she facetimed Godfather.

“Go ahead, Freedom Fighter,” Godfather said, using her code name.

There was no sense in beating around the bush. “I can no longer do this,” she said, feeling as if she had let the world down.

“Do what?”

“This! This mission!”

Godfather didn’t so much as blink. “Why?”

“I slept with him.”

“And?”

“Did you hear me? I fucked him!”

Not even a flash of anger or surprise in those cool blue eyes of his. “So.”

“You don’t care?” Jax demanded, incredulous.

Finally, a reaction. And not the one she thought she deserved. Godfather shrugged and looked earnestly at her. “You did what you had to do. I’m sorry it came to that.”

He wasn’t getting it. Frustrated, Jax swiped at her chin with her hand. “You’re wrong. I didn’t fuck him because I had to, I fucked him because I wanted to!”

Godfather regained his stoic demeanor. “Are you implying you have become emotionally involved with your mark and can no longer remain objective?”

“I . . . yes.” Jax swiped her hand across her face again, more frustrated. “I mean, no. Look, I don’t—” She forced herself to say the words. “I’m not emotionally involved with him. But I slept with him, damn it, because I wanted to, not because he forced me or because it was a means to an end.”

“Has the fact that you had sex with Cross jeopardized mission success?”

Jax sat back and stared at Godfather, who looked as if he’d been discussing the weather with her. “He got to me. Made me flash when I should have remained calm.”

“Then I suggest you get a grip on that temper of yours, Cassidy.” Godfather leaned in and softly said, “You have what it takes to see this mission through to the end. Now stop crying like a girl and get the job done.”

“There’s more!” Jax said before he logged off.

“What more?”

“Cross is a fucking vampire.” She held her hand up when Godfather scowled. “He not only told me, but I witnessed him destroy six gangbangers after they shot him full of lead. Had he not shown up, I would have been the one dead.”

“Cassidy—”

Jax rubbed her neck, the bruise of Cross’s bite throbbed. She closed her eyes, swept her hair from her neck, and leaned toward the screen. “He bit me, sir. Drank my blood. Not pretend, but the real thing.”

Long silence followed her confession. “Cassidy, I’m at a loss for words here. I find all of this unbelievable.”

She opened her eyes and stared at her boss. “Me too, but I’m not crazy. This is real.”

“How do we fight it?”

“I don’t know. But I’ll tell you this: Cross might be a vampire, which explains a lot, but he has all of the emotions and desires of a man. And I think I’ve made a connection. We have an advantage in that we can operate during the day, and he cannot. We can do a lot in a day.”

“We are completely out of our element here, Cassidy. I don’t like operating in the dark.”

She nodded. “Neither do I, but I’ll tell you this much. Cross will be back. At the very least for sex, at the most to bring me in.”

“All right, Cassidy,” Godfather reluctantly said, “I’m going to get to work on the vampire angle. See what I come up with. Meet up with your team and report back to me before dusk.”

“Yes, sir,” Jax said before the screen went dark.

For long minutes, she sat in the chair and stared at the dark screen. What the hell had she gotten them into? What if there were an army of Crosses? How could they fight them? And win? She shivered hard. This was becoming epic. And for the first time since they began, Jax doubted not only the success of this mission, but L.O.S.T.’s survival.

Heavy footsteps approaching her room startled her. Shane. She smelled him. Jesus, her senses were on overload, and even though she knew what—who—was responsible, she still felt the thrill of excitement. A girl could get used to this.

Tightening the sash around her waist, she opened the door before he knocked. Startled, he took one look at her, then past her. “What the hell, Cassidy?” Shane asked as he stepped into the room. Jax shut the door behind him. “Looks like a bomb went off in this place.”

“Yeah, one did,” Jax said under her breath.

He turned to stare at her. His nostrils flared and his eyes narrowed. Suddenly she felt very self-conscious. The musky smell of sex and pheromones permeated the air. “What did the pedophile counselor have to say last night?” she asked, diverting his attention.

“No one home.”

“How convenient,” Jax muttered. “Have you checked in with Dante?”

“All Rowlands are present and accounted for, but Dante said to be prepared. The female Rowlands have been going round and round about the boyfriend.”

Great. “Let me get cleaned up and we’ll go see the Rowlands, then pay LeVech a visit.”

She moved past him. Or tried to. Shane grabbed her arm. His gaze skittered to the bed, then back to her. “Jax, you can’t—”

“Don’t go there,” she said quietly. “Don’t tell me what I can or can’t do, Shane. Understand?”

Grimly, he stared at her, then let her go. “He’s using you.”

She nodded, remembering Godfather’s faith in her. It gave her the strength to answer him. “It goes both ways.”