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  It was a brilliant blend of organic and artificial materials, aesthetically pleasing and functional, from the panels that let in fresh air to the generators that regulated the temperature and amount of light allowed inside.

  “Noella wanted me to check on you.”

  Gasping, she spun around. Even under the artificial lights that lined the garden path, Knox’s eyes flickered with heat and vibrancy. While he always dressed well, the black tuxedo emphasized the long, muscular lines of his body. It also highlighted his less-refined features—the sharp angles of his warrior face, flawless but for the small scar above his upper lip à la Harrison Ford. He’d gotten the scar when he was eight, Noella had told her, before he’d had the ability to heal himself. When she imagined licking the scar and the flesh between her thighs clenched, Felicia tried telling herself it was only because she’d always been a Ford fan.

  Funny how denial became so much easier with time. She cleared her throat and forced a polite smile. “Why didn’t she—”

  “Materialize here herself? You have been gone a long time, haven’t you, Felicia?”

  He took her right hand and held it. Just held it. Biting her lip, she told herself to pull away but instead curled her fingers into his. “Is she that ill?”

  Knox hesitated. “She’s weak due to the limited supply of pure blood, yes, but that’s not why she can’t teleport. She didn’t want to tell you, but she lost that power long ago. After the babies and then the miscarriages—”

  Disbelief had her pulling away. “That affects teleportation ?” She’d never heard that. All she knew about a vamp’s ability to teleport was that it was limited to places he or she had been before. If she’d known Noella couldn’t travel so easily, she would have come to see her more often.

  Or would she? She’d been avoiding her friend for a reason—the one standing right in front of her.

  “Sometimes. In full vampires at least. It’s why Noella rarely leaves the Dome. Without the power to transport, our females are even more vulnerable. Add to that a limited food supply . . .”

  She briefly closed her eyes, picturing the emaciated frames of the many vampires inside. Damn it, she would not feel guilty. She might be a federal agent, but she hadn’t condoned the FBI’s actions in formulating the vamp vaccine. Nonetheless, unreasonable guilt prompted her to take his hand again. “The Bureau’s working to reverse that. It has been ever since peace was declared.”

  He smoothed his thumb across her palm and she felt the caress on her nipples. Between her legs. On the nub that was swelling and aching for his touch. With a knowing smile, his touch firmed, making her bite her lip to keep from screaming. “And will it continue to do so,” he crooned, “when we’re all dead? For the sake of science?”

  “Don’t say that,” she whispered, terror beating out lust. “You’re immortal.”

  “We’re only strong immortals when we’re able to feed. Right now, many of us are simply existing; eventually our enemies will come after us.” Knox’s mouth twisted sardonically. “But no one ever said war was pretty. Even after the fighting ends, there are casualties.”

  “Yes. Life is full of casualties,” she said softly. “And even with all the new races we’ve discovered, even with our common belief in a creator and an afterlife, we’ve no guarantee there’s anything better waiting for us there. Not that any of you are willing to admit anyway . . .”

  “Unfortunately, Otherborns don’t have a direct connection to the Goddess any more than humans have to their Gods. Only those granted entry into the Otherworld have claimed to see her, but maybe someday . . .” He frowned then shrugged, as if wanting to recall his words.

  Felicia understood why. “Yes, maybe someday you’ll see her for yourself. While you’re still alive, I mean. Again, lucky for you you’re immortal. Increases your chances, right?” Her last sentence was meant to be teasing, but her repeated references to his immortality only made her feel foolish. And sad. She tugged at her hand but he refused to let it go. “I have to go,” she pleaded, hating her weakness.

  “Dance with me.” Desire pulsed in the air and his command radiated hunger, one that beckoned to her and made her dizzy with the need to give in.

  Disoriented, she licked her lips. “What?”

  “You’re going to run again. We won’t see you for years. So dance with me.”

  “No. I don’t want—”

  He pulled her into his arms, cutting off her words. Their chests and hips pressed together, and almost immediately he began a simple waltz, leading her so she was floating in his arms. The faint scent of mint rose between them and she leaned closer, barely able to stop herself from burying her face in the crook of his neck.

  That same haunting melody was playing, and she wondered—

  “It’s Chopin. Waltz number five.”

  She gave herself a few seconds to enjoy it. The feel of his arms. His hair tickling her face. It was when she imagined them dancing at their own anniversary celebration that she pulled away.

  A few seconds were apparently enough to have her thinking of forever. Don’t let him touch you again, she thought. Don’t let him destroy the wall you’ve used to protect your heart all these years.

  She’d just started to turn when he touched her arm. “Noella knows how we feel and wants to give us ease.”

  She froze. “Ease?”

  “She knows why I married her, Felicia. She’s not angry.”

  Violently, she jerked away and rounded on him. “No? How about hurt?”

  He said nothing for several seconds. “Noella’s been free to make her own choices when it comes to bedmates. And she has.”

  Eyes wide, she gasped. She knew the vamp society had different thoughts on marriage and fidelity, and most married vamps often participated in at least one “mating-pair.” Felicia looked toward the ballroom and pictured her friend as she’d been in Knox’s arms. She’d looked so happy. So fulfilled. And she’d never said anything to Felicia about—

  “I know you don’t understand. You’re not that type of woman.”

  Felicia pressed her lips together. What kind of woman was that? The kind to enjoy the pleasure of more than one lover? Or the kind to put the clan’s need for increased numbers ahead of love?

  Either way, he was right. At least, she hoped so. It just proved how very different they were.

  Because while Felicia believed in doing one’s duty, Knox took duty to a whole different level.

  She knew he loved Noella, but even if he hadn’t, even if, for example, he’d fallen in love with a human, his soul mate, before his wedding—Felicia’s heart constricted at the thought—she suspected he would have married a full vampire like Noella anyway. In doing so, he could proliferate the vampire bloodline, but also distance himself from his own humanity.

  But was that all Knox was willing to do? Did he, like Noella, feel a mating-pair was his duty, as well? And if so, just how many pairs were they talking about? Unable to stop herself, she asked, “Have you . . .”

  His expression darkened, but he nodded. “In the past, yes. Noella wanted another baby and she was too weak to carry another one to term herself. She was—”

  “You have other children?” she interrupted, sounding horrified.

  “Of course not,” he snapped. “If I had another child, you’d know about it. There were no offspring, and I haven’t been with another female in years. But now?” Once more, he moved toward her. “Why shouldn’t I—why shouldn’t we—if she’s willing . . .”

  “Willing to what?” she exploded, warding him off with a raised hand. “Share you with me? Let us pleasure each other until she’s strong enough to give you more children?”

  “She loves us both, Felicia.”

  “ And I love her. All the more reason I’d never do something to hurt her. Ever.”

  “Never say never,” he gritted, his eyes blazing furiously. “This isn’t about me wanting to fuck just for the sake of fucking. You feel it, too, Felicia. You’ve always felt it. When we met, it wasn’t an introduction, it was recognition. My soul and yours. We belong together.”

  “If that were true, it wouldn’t hurt so much to be around you. You’re married—”

  “To a female I love, but am not in love with. To a female who knows the difference and does not require my fidelity.” In obvious frustration, he shook his head. “Life is more complicated than a human with limited years can ever realize. We’re talking about the survival of a whole race. The vamp vaccine is destroying us, especially those with full blood. For some reason, dharmires inherit the strengths without needing the pure human blood that full vampires do. Vampire females have always been more rare, but now males of strength are of limited numbers, too. I can’t just ignore that.”

  For a split second, she felt swayed by his words. By his logic. It was why she’d vowed to lie if Noella ever questioned Felicia about her feelings—fear that Noella would offer something she couldn’t refuse. Her heart jumped, urging her to open her arms to him, but she forced herself to remain still. She understood the vamp clan’s need to increase its population. She understood why Knox believed he needed to be part of that. But that was his choice, just as it had been his choice to marry Noella and, she supposed, to stay married to her.

  She visibly jerked at the thought. Vamps didn’t believe in divorce. Even thinking the word in relation to Knox and Noella made her feel guilty. And foolish.

  She had a choice, as well, and she prayed she was making the right one. She forced herself to whisper, “I’m not asking you to ignore anything.”

  “You are,” he charged fiercely, “every time you continue to deny us because I can’t pledge you eternal fidelity, any more than I can my wife.”

  Wife. Wife. The word played in her head, reminding her of who
she was and what she expected from herself and others. “There is no us,” she said sadly.

  “I refuse to accept that.”

  “You desire me now, but you’re right—I have limited years on Earth. I need to live those years honoring what I believe. I don’t believe in—in what you’re asking me for. Besides,” she reasoned desperately, “I’m just a passing fancy. When I’m gone, you’ll be glad—”

  “No.” He growled and pulled her into his arms. She saw the terror that flashed in his eyes. “No.” Before she could stop him, his mouth took hers. And it was exactly as she’d feared it would be.

  Devastating.

  His mouth took but it also gave. It plundered even as it cherished. His tongue rubbed hers, then retreated, mimicking a different dance and causing the music to swell even louder, until it obliterated everything but the moment.

  It was heaven. The kind of heaven one only dreams about, especially when her life has been filled with fear and uncertainty and pain. The kind of heaven that a mortal can’t have.

  She wrenched away and backed up, wiping her hand against her lips.

  He was breathing roughly, his expression almost desperate. “You can’t run from this forever, Felicia.”

  Shaking her head, she kept moving. “I won’t have to.” She tried to smile even though her lips trembled. “When I’m long gone, you’ll get to see the peace that time brings. A peace I can only imagine. You and Noella and your family will share that together.”

  His muttered oath was thick with emotion—denial, regret, determination—but she spun around and ran as fast as she could toward the common area. She moved past several guests, noting that in addition to the sprinkling of humans, there were several werebeasts and werecats present. A mage entertained some children, sparking fireworks that exploded their brilliant colors across the Dome sky, illuminating all the residences protected within it.

  She spotted one of the horse-drawn carriages that would take her to the departure area. Knox’s car was parked in his garage, but cars were only driven within the Vamp Dome when they were leaving or returning from outside. Sadly, however, most full vampires, who made up 90 percent of the clan’s population, were too sick to leave the Dome now.

  More than ever, the Dome was fulfilling its intended purpose—protecting those Knox loved. It didn’t just shield vamps from the sun or defend them from those who wished them harm. It now provided vampires a safe haven from prying eyes and gave them something even if their bodies wouldn’t—dignity. Protecting the clan was the only reason that the Dome had been created. But maybe someday, Felicia thought . . . She turned back to take a final glance at Knox’s home and the gardens where she knew he stood.

  Someday the rest of the world would go where Knox was trying to lead them.

  Someday today would lead to better things.

  ONE

  TWO YEARS LATER

  FBI HEADQUARTERS

  WASHINGTON, D.C.

  Kyle Mahone, director of the FBI’s Special Ops Tactical Division, quietly hung up his phone instead of slamming it down the way he wanted to. He’d expected Dex Hunt to be suspicious of the Bureau’s job offer. What Other wouldn’t be? The rest had certainly proceeded with caution, asking one question after another.

  The werebeast, however, had done something the others hadn’t.

  He’d laughed his ass off.

  Swiveling in his chair, Mahone looked out his window, clenching his fists until his knuckles were white. He’d gotten where he was by being smart, working hard, and maintaining his cool. But something about the werebeast’s taunting had hit home.

  Infuriating. Smart-assed. Cocky SOB. The epithets didn’t come close to describing Hunt. Still, he was the best marksman in the nation, human or Other. He was also skilled in the martial art of Karakai, a combination of Karate and crazy-ass gymnastics the Others had come up with. That made Hunt lethal from a distance and in close quarters. Add the fact he could shift into something that would make Freddy Krueger look cuddly and Hunt would be invaluable to the success of Team Red, the FBI’s first special ops team to recruit both humans and Others. In addition to Hunt, Mahone had already offered spots to a human, a human psychic, a mage, and last but not least, a wraith.

  Wraith, as in ghost. The dearly departed.

  A no-longer-living, d-e-a-d person who swore like a trucker, adored ABBA, wore four-inch stilettos, and unlike the other handful of wraiths that were known to exist, refused to take a real name. Instead, she’d sworn to answer only to “Wraith” until she discovered her true identity. Her surly attitude wasn’t ideal, but she was a survivor to the extreme—incapable of being killed by any known methods. She also happened to be an expert in ammunitions and explosives.

  Twenty years ago, Mahone would have checked himself into an insane asylum before admitting he believed in any of the Others, let alone a wraith. Now the future of the world seemed to rest in their hands.

  Wearily, Mahone rubbed his hands over his face. According to the crazy dream he’d had two weeks ago, the fate of the world, or rather the fate of its inhabitants, actually rested more in his hands than anyone else’s—on his ability to choose the right combination of six individuals, humans and Otherborn, to serve on a new type of special ops team—a Para-Ops team.

  Talk about pressure.

  If it had been up to him, a Para-Ops team would have been formed years before, as soon as the President and all the Otherborn leaders had signed the Humanity Treaty. Instead, the U.S. government had left things up to local law enforcement agencies, which, while usually well intentioned, were simply unable to deal with the lingering prejudice and suspicion that naturally followed half a decade of civil war. Another five years had passed since peace was declared, yet the nation and its citizens were still recovering. Some days, Mahone doubted they’d ever find peace again. For that to occur, he knew the United States people needed help—a team dedicated to ensuring the rights of humans and Others alike, both domestically and internationally.

  The dream had obviously been a manifestation of his growing unease and frustration with the President’s unwillingness to step up to the plate. But in the end, the dream had also given Mahone the cajones to force the President’s hand. Either give him the green light to form the FBI’s first Para-Ops team comprised of humans and Others, or accept Mahone’s resignation.

  Now he had no one to blame but himself if the team turned out to be a disaster. Unfortunately, the call with Hunt wasn’t exactly promising and he still had one more offer to make—the position of team leader to a dharmire. And not just any dharmire, but Knox Devereaux, the son of a vampire Queen and an infamous French revolutionist human, Jacques Devereaux.

  This morning, Mahone had e-mailed Knox, his message concise: Teleport to headquarters as soon as possible. Nora will buzz you in.

  Knox’s reply had been even more concise. Three. For Knox, that was code for, “I’ll be there at three o’clock, you bastard, just long enough to make you squirm.”

  Mahone checked the clock. Less than an hour away. Which meant Mahone needed to focus. It would be foolish to face Knox while he was still distracted by crazy dreams or a smart-ass were. Once again, he replayed the conversation with Hunt, trying to determine the point that annoyance had shifted into more.

  Yes, he’d laughed at Mahone’s offer, but the werebeast’s laughter had barely died down before he’d gone for Mahone’s throat. “A team to help both humans and Others, huh? Tell me, Mahone, how many Others do you call friend? How many do you drink a beer with when you’re watching a game?”

  Mahone’s answer had been in his silence, just as Hunt had obviously expected. Even so, he’d persisted, giving Hunt both the parameters of the team’s purpose, as well as a brief description of its first mission. When he was done, Hunt hadn’t been laughing, but he hadn’t jumped to accept Mahone’s invitation, either.