FicWad

This is an original manuscript, copyrighted and logged via ISBN number through the Library of Congress. I hope you enjoy.

PROLOGUE

Autumn 1849
Outside Cairo, Egypt

He loped over the uneven terrain, on all fours like a wolf. The scent of beeswax and oil lamps came to him upon the night wind, along with the greasy smell of roasting goat. Even from this far, the aromas of the garlic, saffron and cinnamon spicing the workers’ evening meal reached him.
She coddled human servants, he thought, seething with hate. Fed the weaklings, housed them within the palisade, treated them as family, and they adored her for it.
Her.
Sazahnne.
The Golden Bitch.
Her name evoked such blind vicious anger, he faltered on the sandy rocks as he ascended to his goal. Pain lanced his knuckles and knees.
His father loved that woman. Too much to even end the torment of unrequited emotion. It fell to him as the eldest child, the son his father wished he’d gotten upon the gold-skinned bitch, to kill her.
As he drew close to the sprawling stronghold, he skirted the patrols.
Three weeks ago he’d kidnapped and tortured a trusted maid as she journeyed to Tunis. Only when he’d sliced open her belly, had the maid confessed knowledge of a secret tunnel. Thousands of years past, the House of Cairo built its seat. An underground tunnel the usurper - Faelen the First - insisted upon reopening, led from the lord’s chamber, through a maze, to here.
No one would miss that maid until tomorrow. By then, The Golden Bitch, her consort, and their offspring would lie dead.
He coughed the accumulated sand from his lungs. Brushed the gritty grains from the concealed cover to the secret entrance. Solid Toledo steel met his questing fingertips. A scent and feel like aristocracy among metals.
With a single effort he heaved the obstruction aside. He dropped down to the reinforced floor, and ran through the passage. At its halfway point, he found the labyrinth opening. A gleeful smile stretched his lips. He turned the torch bracket upon the wall and a concealed door revealed itself.
He used his surreptitious ability to conceal his presence to keep those within unaware. All his senses became more acute as he approached the room where She slept. His body tingled. An unexpected excitement made his erection swell.
The door to the chamber swung open on silent hinges. The Golden Bitch lie sleeping in the Usurper’s embrace.
She looked serene. Peaceful. Beautiful.
Bitch.
A bothersome thought occurred. He could sense Faelen the Second wasn’t in the house.
Too bad. Another time.
Tonight, Sazahnne and her lover would have their heads taken. The stronghold would burn.
He found the Usurper’s sword on the marble floor beside the bed, pulled the blade from its sheath. Its soft whine sang a telling tune in the bed chamber. He brought their lives to an end with one brutal stroke. He dropped the sword onto the gore-stained bed, then did a thing far more unforgivable in the eyes of Vampyre law.
He fed upon their blood.
Fierce pleasure beat through his veins, coursed over him, seared his brain. A ragged gasp erupted from him as he climaxed.
For a moment he debated the fate of the sword. He’d take it, he decided. Keep it as a momento.
Orgasmic pleasure coursed through him. They’d burn tonight. And better still, he would find a way to destroy Sazahnne’s son. The son his own father coveted.




CHAPTER ONE

October 14
San Francisco, California

The nape of Tynan Singleton’s neck prickled. She sensed someone watched her. Several times since entering The Black Peregrine book store, she’d felt it. This time, she looked up from the pages of the first edition Poe. Glancing toward each end of the aisle, she searched for the source of the uncomfortable scrutiny.
“Here kitty, kitty, kitty,” called a soft, sinister voice. The chanting summons preceded a chuckle. She couldn’t locate its origin.
Since her teen years, her tip-tilted green eyes had solicited feline comparisons. The eerie quality of the voice bothered her, even if the words didn’t.
Tynan shut the Morocco bound volume and placed it back on the shelf.
“Come here, pretty kitty. I’ll give you some cream.”
Turning on her heel, she walked toward the end of the aisle. She intended to visit two other of her future competitors’ stores this evening. But, before she’d taken a half dozen steps, she found her way blocked by a man. She gasped. His sudden appearance surprised her. Something about him sent fear skittering over her.
“You a fraidy-cat?” he taunted.
Deep-set, pale blue eyes blazed at her from an almost-handsome face. His features in themselves didn’t spoil his looks, she thought. Rather the cruelty that manifested itself there.
Since moving from rural Virginia, eight years ago, when she lost her last remaining relative, Tynan had grown street wise. She controlled her initial reaction to him. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I have to meet some one.”
“You just met me,” he said, and advanced.
Tynan reminded herself that this shop rarely hosted more than two or three patrons this time of day. She should diffuse the situation if she could. Without showing fear.
“I’m already late,” she continued to fabricate. Instead of revealing apprehension and going the other way, she forged ahead.
Those glowing-coal eyes burned with unholy fire. Why the term ‘unholy’ came to mind, she didn’t know. As she came closer, the description seemed more apropos. She stopped, considered calling for help. He laughed. It sounded as demonic as he looked.
She had her back to the rear of the shop. All the long, tall shelves ran the length of the place. With the acoustics muffled by books, a shout for help might go unheard. Cut off from the main entrance, she would have to duck out the back and hope for the best if he tried anything.
He grinned at her, showed a mouth full of startling, long wolf-like teeth. “Catch you later.”
Tynan sensed his eyes on her as she walked to the back of the store, and out of The Black Peregrine. The cold night wind hit her in a rush, making her appreciate the cable weave sweater and cords she wore. With her tweed peacoat and lug tread leather loafers adding additional warmth, she’d stay toasty the rest of her walk.
Long wisps of her dark auburn hair whipped across her face. She pushed them out of her eyes and strode down the narrow, though well-lit alley. She took a short cut to Stockton Street, then continued to Grant. As she stepped onto the sidewalk, she saw the closed sign hanging in the stained glass and oak door of Henry Lamden’s Rare Tomes.
“Perfect.” Tynan tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “While I dodge a Casanova wannabe, Lam closes.”
She turned to go, then halted when she heard the bolt slide and the song of the brass chimes that hung inside the door. Turning back, she saw Lam standing in the threshold. His short cropped tan hair spiked up in places, as if he’d run his fingers through it.
“Come on. I’ve your book.” As usual, his voice held the impatience of someone who almost never slowed down. The crisp British accent made it more pronounced.
The interior of the shop hosted over a thousand rare books on its shelves. Down the center of the store stood a massive nineteenth century, double-sided library case he’d shipped from his parent’s estate outside London. Lam came from wealth. Tynan suspected back in England, his name had a several titles tacked on to it. He’d already opened this place when she moved here, and it felt like a second home.
Tynan stroked the silky finish of a nearby wall shelf. A thrill of anticipation raced through her. Two weeks ago, she’d turned in her notice at the super-sized, modern monstrosity of a bookstore where she’d worked for eight years. She never dreamed finding herself jobless would feel so great. It did, because soon she’d be self-employed.
“It always smells of patchouli in here,” she commented as he locked the door behind them.
“Keeps out anything what might fancy a nibble at my books.” He motioned her to follow. She trailed in his wake to the carved counter at the back. Picking up a brown paper wrapped package, Lam handed it to her.
Tynan gave it a playful, smacking kiss.
“Should give some of that to me,” he said, “for being fool enough to help you find books to fill the store you’ll put me out of business with.”
She couldn’t wait to get it home and open it. Giving him a quick peck on the cheek, she laughed. “Thanks. You’re my only real friend. Now let me out. I want to go home and gloat.”
She hugged Lam at the door, thanked him again, and headed for home. Thoughts of the Byron inside the package made her steps brisk and light as she walked. Tomorrow she would begin comparing the locations she’d picked. With her savings, the bonds Great Aunt Claire left her, and the books she managed to acquire over the past ten years, her dream would become a reality.
Out of nowhere, a cold shaft of fear pierced her. She didn’t stop. Instead, she steered right down a more well-illuminated street. Although shops lined it, she felt vulnerable. On the street a block over, stood a twenty-four hour coffee house that always brimmed with patrons. Taking a chance to get to it, she cut between two abandoned buildings.
A figure appeared in a disorienting rush. The street lamps at each end of the alley provided enough light to see. She recognized the guy who’d harassed her earlier. He made a strange hiss. Something primitive told her to bolt. She clutched her package, whirled and ...
Ran into a solid wall of black that seemed to materialize in her path.
She gave a startled cry. The warm, sandwashed silk of the shirtfront where her face pressed muffled the sound. Long, muscular male arms encircled her. An instant sense of safety flooded her. The tall hard-bodied stranger holding her smelled of some incense-like scent. It clung to the shirt where she’d inadvertently buried her face.
Sandwiched between their bodies, the package pressed hard into her belly.
“Blade,” her white knight in black said. His deep oddly-accented voice vibrated in his wide chest. “Always picking on anything smaller than yourself.”
Tynan peeked up at her rescuer. Long luxuriant hair of glossy black hung loose to impossibly wide shoulders. Skin the most unbelievable shade of dark honey stretched over a striking face. The combined effect of chiseled jaw, wide, erotic mouth bracketed by long deep dimples, slanted cheekbones, and straight nose, made her feel weak-kneed. Not just from gratitude.
He possessed the self-assured stillness of royalty. And, she’d always thought long hair would look sexy on the right man. Was this ever the right man.
“Cairo,” sneered the other man. “Uppity bastard. This is my hunting ground.”
“I go where I please.”
The wood and musk scent of his shirt mingled with some darker, more potent male element. It made her think of rubbing her nose against his skin, and she gave herself a mental shake.
“I found her first,” Blade growled.
“She prefers me,” he responded. Taking one of those strong arms from around her, he put a finger beneath her chin and urged her to tilt her head back. “No question.”
She felt captured by those gleaming amber eyes as they locked gazes. They reminded her of a lion’s.
Without breaking the contact, he said, “She’s made her choice, Blade. Get lost.”
She heard the other man snarl a curse, a second later breaking glass. It snapped her out of her fog. Tynan stepped back. A puddle of glittering shards lie under a now paneless window. She saw her would-be attacker throw back his head and yell. Then he vanished.
Around her, the noises of the city seemed to return at once. Her adrenaline began to subside. Though her speeding pulse did not.
Tynan faced her rescuer.
For a few seconds she felt stunned again by his exotic masculine beauty.
He stood watching her, intent and still; a wide-shouldered, slim-hipped figure in a long-sleeved sand washed silk shirt and lambskin pants over boots.

Faelen could feel the churning of her emotions, her jumbled thoughts. She didn’t know what to think of him.
He knew he’d become her lover.
“We haven’t introduced ourselves,” he said, offered her his hand. “Faelen Cairo.”
She accepted with just the slightest hesitation. “Tynan Singleton.”
“Blade will try to follow you.” Within his grasp, her hand felt fragile and sensitive. The unexpected sexual rush that hit him made Faelen’s canines tingle, begin to lower. Such simple contact hadn’t effected him like this in a hundred or more years. Schooling himself, he added, “I’ll give you a ride home.”
She withdrew her hand. “I appreciate your getting that creep off me. But, I don’t accept rides from strangers.”
“I’ll walk with you, then.”
“Thanks. You’ve done enough.”
Faelen switched tactics. “I would worry for you.”
Her entire attitude changed. She went from a kind of shy, feminine receptiveness, to cool self-possession. “Why? You don’t know me, Mr.Cairo.”
“I know Blade.” He caught the scent of her as the wind shifted. Pure, vibrant woman under a subtle layer of peach.
She arched a silky-looking red sable brow. It’s elegant curve made him wish for a brush and canvas to capture it’s perfection.
“That’s supposed to make me trust you?” The high molding of her cheekbones and delicate shape of her jaw contradicted her strong nature.
He adored a woman with spirit. “Blade is a prominent figure in local crime. Lots of people make his acquaintance.” He enjoyed adding, “Like yourself.”
Again, she scrutinized him. “What did he mean by the ‘hunting ground’ comment?”
Honest, but evasive, Faelen answered, “We’ve encountered each other elsewhere. Blade likes to think of himself as a predator. Maybe the analogy pleased him.” She clutched her parcel as if she expected him to grab it. So, he said, “I’ll see you and your package home.”
She glanced down at it, then back up at him. Smoothing a long strand of chestnut hair from her face, she replied, “Maybe an escort isn’t a bad idea.”
He offered her his arm. “Lead on.”
When she grasped him, her thoughts came to him in a swift rush.
Too perfect. Probably wanted in six states. And, if he’s looked in the mirror any time in the last ten years, he knows how gorgeous he is.
They walked to the end of the alley, then turned right.
Faelen deliberately tuned her out. Gave her some mental privacy. Still, he could sense her sensuality. To distract himself, he asked, “What’s in the box?”
“A crown jewel,” she answered.
Faelen put his hand over hers. Its feminine softness struck a protective cord in him. He let her lead him down one street then another. “Why are you carrying something valuable?”
A shift in her energy accompanied her answer. “I didn’t trust anyone else.”
That spoke volumes. “If it’s precious to you, then it’s lucky you have me as escort.”
From his periphery, he saw her shoot him a look. “Your accent is strange. Mixed European, but faint.”
Faelen sensed she needed reassurance. Indulgence and giving a sense of safety were a male’s ages old lures for a female he intended to ravish. “I’ve traveled all my life. Moving around creates an accent that’s tough to place.” He omitted that living through centuries also affected his speech.
“Parents in the military?” she asked. “Here. This is me.”
He glanced up at the stairs leading to a second story apartment. He pictured her going in, lying down in bed. He felt his arousal simmering, then felt it reaching her. She shivered in involuntary response.
Desire for her swept through him in a startling hot rush. He tried to contain it, and knew he failed. At his side, he felt her responding. She would have no idea about a vampire’s ability to seduce with desire. No way of knowing what he did to her.
She turned to face him, eyes large and wary. But, her lips parted and the yearning he’d given her began to return.
He reached out and touched her mouth. Her eyes closed. She trembled. “You’re offering this to me.” Blood passion streaked through him. Only an act of will prevented his canines from lowering.
“I ... just met you.”
He stepped closer, his senses expanding to take her in. He could scent her arousal, feel the sexual excitement sparking her nerves. The temptation became too much. He moved his fingers, bent and brushed his mouth over hers.
Like lightning, it struck him. Recognition. All the powerful emotion made sense. This woman was his mate.
Every vampire knew the rare matings between their kind and humans almost always ended in tragedy. He could deny the latent bond. Walk away this instant, and the tie would sever. If he did not, he accepted the irrevocable mating tether.
Faelen straightened and gazed down at her.
Yes.
His soul answered before his mind could. He wanted her. He’d make her his.
Her lashes lifted and she stared at him. She looked very young and vulnerable, and the differences in them seemed insurmountable.
Faelen dismissed the thought.
“I have to go,” she said, voice soft.
“I don’t want to let you.” Although his desire for her made preliminaries more like torture than courtship, he realized the human and very female need for them. “Have dinner with me tomorrow night.”
Food held little appeal for him. After three hundred and seventy years, his metabolism had grown so efficient, he hardly required sustenance. He craved the pleasure of tapping of another life force. For the vampyre, that communion held an intoxication nothing else could offer.
Tynan took a step back. “That’s probably not wise.”
“I won’t apologize for kissing you.”
“Listen, I don’t know what happened. Some kind of post damsel-in-distress syndrome.” She continued to hold her package in front of her like a shield. “I’m usually the type who decides on the fourth date, if I’ll let a guy kiss me on the fifth.”
“Would you feel better if I promised not to kiss you until I have permission?”
“That would just have us splitting hairs over what qualifies as permission,” she answered.
“Clever girl.”
Tynan retreated another step. “If I agree, there’s no kissing. Clear?”
“Crystal.” He could devise a hundred ways to change her mind later.
“You can meet me here at seven-thirty. There are five or six great places nearby.”
“You’ll ride with me?”
She shifted her parcel beneath one arm and took a set of keys from her coat pocket. “I’ll decide then. Aren’t you freezing out here? It’s like forty degrees.”
He hadn’t noticed he’d left his jacket in his car until just now. The temperature affected him little. But, appearing more like the humans he moved among helped him blend.
“I’m very warm-blooded,” he replied.
“I bet.” Tynan went up the stairs in an energetic rush. Facing him, she said, “Thanks again for playing white knight.”
“Anytime.” It required huge effort to let her go. He wanted her with him, the way a vampire wants their mate.
“Goodnight,” she paused just a millisecond, “Faelen.” The way she seemed to try tasting his name on her lips sent a sharp-set lash of desire straight to his gut.
“Goodnight, Tynan.” He watched her go inside, and knew he’d count the hours.
First thing, he arranged for three of his elite vampire guards to secure the area. Blade was a worthless bastard. But a persistent one. Faelen didn’t think for a second Blade would accept defeat and leave Tynan alone.
Later, as he prowled nearby, restless and discontent, he gazed up at the cold moon and managed to find the humor in the situation. A man who often found himself surrounded by willing women, had his choice among them, would spend his first night as a mated male, alone.






















CHAPTER TWO

Tynan scrutinized herself in the full length mirror. She studied the way her grey tights peeked out between her charcoal leather flats, and the legs of her white, tab front chinos. The belt she wore matched these shoes. It rarely saw use. She didn’t make a habit of tucking her tops. Her late aunt always told Tynan she didn’t appreciate own beauty.
Thinking of it made her renew her criticism. The storm cloud-colored Henley sweater clung to her bosom. It accentuated the fullness she often disguised.
Tynan wrinkled her nose at her reflection. She had nothing against her appearance. Quite the opposite. She just didn’t like to walk around showing everything she had, to anyone who cared to ogle her. And, she’d learned people took her more seriously when she kept her waist-length hair up, and her shape camouflaged.
Since she did not care to examine this sudden aberration, she put on silver hoops, a silver chain, and the opal ring Aunt Claire gave her their last Christmas. Next, she took her hair down from the rollers. She shook it out, created a deep side part, and used a spritz of freeze spray to give the front some lift.
Tynan had applied her customary dash of foundation, powder, and mascara earlier. She added berry-hued lipstick, and called it quits.
“Can’t have him thinking I’m out to impress.”
Remembering the bulky clothes she’d worn the night before, the braid doubled up at her nape, she knew he’d notice the difference.
“The difference between street wear and evening,” she reasoned aloud.
Sure.
A glance at her bedside clock told her he’d arrive soon. Tynan grabbed the grey reticule she’d put her wallet in, switched off the bedroom light and went to the kitchen.
It’s cheerful yellow and white decor made up for its abbreviated size. Only a tall, built-in bar separated it from her sparsely furnished white and tan living room. She dropped her purse on the bar, and at almost that precise second, came the anticipated knock.
Her heart seemed to stop, then turn a somersault. She intended to greet him, shut up the apartment and go. When she opened the wood door, she saw him on the other side of the screen holding a huge bouquet of snowy Cala lilies. She noted they lacked wrapping a florist might use.
Dressed in dark brown boots, jeans, a coffee colored button up shirt, and a brown leather jacket, Faelen looked masculine and intimidating. He’d pulled back his long hair, making his fierce cheekbones more pronounced.
Tynan suffered a moment of doubt. All her previous relationships evolved with men she knew as friends first. The romance developed by degrees from mutual admiration. With this magnificent stranger, she found herself on new ground.
“May I come in?” His black velvet voice caressed her, sensual and intimate.
Doing her best to recover from it, she said, “Yes, of course.” She unlatched the screen and stepped back.
He entered, his size dwarfing the surroundings. “I brought these from my solarium,” he said. His gleaming amber eyes moved over her. Something flickered in their depths that made her wonder if she’d imagined the feeling of safety he gave her last night.
Tynan’s mind scrambled to regain its footing. “Let me find a vase.” Glad for distraction, she located a tall container from a cabinet. “They’re beautiful,” she complimented. “Thank you.” She filled the vase with water from the tap.
Faelen came to stand beside her. Instant, heated response pooled low in her pelvis. She shut her eyes against it. Focused on the coolness of the glass. After a second, she set it on the counter, and opened her eyes.
He spread them there for her, and she began arranging them.
“So, you have a solarium?” Tynan hoped to divert herself.
“A modest one.”
She got the impression the only modest thing about it was his description. “Do you live in the city?”
“Down the coast a bit,” Faelen responded. “I have business interests that bring me here several days a week.”
Tynan picked up a large pristine lily. “What kind of business?”
“Investments,” he answered, “of many kinds.” He leaned just a fraction closer. As if he knew how near he could get before she told him to back off. “I’ve thought of you. Wished the hours to pass, that I could see you.”
“Faelen,” she queried, “did these business dealings introduce you to Blade?” She released the lily she held. “I’ve wondered about that all day.”
His amber gaze did not waver. “I won’t deny that many aspects of my life could prove difficult for you to accept. But, I promise you needn’t fear.”
“You didn’t answer the question.”
Faelen inclined his dark head. “Touché. No, through different circumstances.”
She tucked one lily after another into the vase, balanced the arrangement. “I can’t picture a social situation that would include the two of you.”
“Few could.”
Tynan heard the change in his voice. Her gaze snapped from the flowers to gauge his mood. His pupils had dilated. His nostrils flared like a wolf’s scenting prey. He took the last step that separated them. With the distance closed, she could smell the woodsy aroma clinging to his clothes and the maleness of him. Tynan felt some primitive part of herself respond.
The lily she held shook. Realizing her trembling caused it, she laid it on the counter and took a step back. “Faelen, don’t.” She didn’t want to want him.
“Don’t make you change your mind?”
His perception made her feel emotionally naked. Exposed. “I just met you yesterday. I won’t let myself make a mistake because of hormones.”
Faelen caught her upper arms in his big, warm hands. “I respect your honesty.”
She shivered. “What good would it do to play games? You can feel me tremble.”
“You told me I couldn’t kiss you. Let me.”
His words held a wealth of heated sexual temptation. They made her breasts swell with sensation and their nipples tighten. “No.”
A wave of rapacious, libidinous hunger hit her. Like the night before, she felt it inundate her. It seemed he generated lust as he did the heat radiating from his big body.
Tynan doubted her resolve could survive a prolonged assault of his sensual persuasion. The way he looked at her, the possessive desire in his gaze, made her body respond, become wet for him.
Gathering her strength, she pulled from his grasp. “No,” she repeated, perhaps more for her own benefit than his.
An urgent knock at the door broke the thick tension. Faelen reacted far swifter than she. He strode to it, giving the impression he already knew who waited on the other side.
“I gave you clear instructions not to disturb me tonight,” He said with chilling flatness as he opened the door.
A slight, dark man of indeterminate years stood on the landing. Something in his appearance told her he came from oriental blood. She moved to see around Faelen.
“Many pardons,” the man replied. His accent confirmed her theory. As did her view of him. He wore foreign garments, a pajama like suit in an inky, fluid fabric, and his jet hair drawn back, its length concealed behind him. “A problem has arisen.”
“What?” Faelen demanded.
“Blade has taken Ilsa.”
Faelen’s furious expletive erupted in some exotic, unfamiliar tongue. But, she recognized cursing when she heard it. “Demands?” he asked.
The discussion of another woman who obviously held some position in his life put an instant damper on her arousal. “Maybe you’d like some privacy,” she suggested. Tynan heard the chill in her voice.
Neither man spared her a glance.
“He proposes a trade,” the small man revealed. “Ilsa for Miss Singleton.”
“Like hell.” Faelen’s response cut the air with its razor edge.
“Excuse me,” Tynan broke in. “I get the feeling you two should include me.”
Faelen half turned to her. His sensual, chiseled lips had set in a savage line. “A friend of many years has been taken by Blade.”
“Taken?” Tynan shook her head. A shudder passed down her spine. “You mean kidnapped?”
“He wishes to trade you for her,” Faelen added.
Her knee jerk, unreasonable jealousy vanished. “Oh my God. We have to call the police.”
The men exchanged significant looks.
“No,” Faelen contradicted softly, “we cannot involve the police.”
“Why?” she demanded. Swift suspicion gripped her, digging its icy talons deep. “Wait a second. What’s going on?”
“You’re in danger.” A resolved expression hardened his face, deepened the long dimples bracketing his mouth. “The only safe place for you is with me.”
He reached for her, closing his fingers around her arm. Despite his gentleness, she sensed the inescapable, sovereign strength.
“Let go, Faelen.” Her voice shook as she spoke. “I’m calling the police.”
“I won’t risk your life. Sleep. Until I wake you.”
An eerie euphoria, like the sensation of falling, filled her. Swirling, heavy darkness surrounded her. It seemed she breathed it, inhaled the blackness. Then, the world faded.
Tynan slipped beneath the surface of consciousness without a ripple.

“I’ll kill Blade for this.” Faelen gaze down at Tynan, limp in his arms. “I’ll demand the Right of Magnus.”
From his place behind the wheel of the stretch Bentley, Shang replied, “His mistress, Giann, will petition for denial.”
“The Council knows he’s a disease and a liability. Only ties to blood aristocracy through Giann have saved him.”
“Will you travel to London where they hold council this month?”
He met Shang’s eyes in the rear view mirror. “If I must.”
His servant and closest confidant of almost two hundred years nodded. “First to save Ilsa. He has her where he laires.”
Faelen adjusted Tynan’s position so her head rested at a more comfortable angle against his chest. He stroked her delicate jaw, her cascade of mahogany hair. “Ilsa remains linked to me by blood.”
“Might he pressure her to break?”
“Blade lacks the strength to force and the charm to coax,” he answered. “He’ll know better than to rape or kill her, but he won’t miss an opportunity to torment.”
When they arrived at his home, Faelen carried Tynan to his suite. He laid her upon his bed. Seeing her there sent a thrill of possessive pleasure through him. He stole a kiss from her soft mouth.
Faelen left her sleeping. He had a life to save.

The sentries posted outside Blade’s Beacon Hill mansion scuttled away as Faelen approached. Fledgling vampires feared a magnus’ wrath more than their creator’s. His enemy’s paramour met him at the door.
Giann’s status as an aristocratic vampire born had attracted Blade. That was common knowledge. Her short, lavender-dyed hair, strong features and boyish body hardly complied with the rogue vampire’s acknowledged preferences.
“Cairo,” she greeted, lowered canines glinting between her red lips. “Always a pleasure.”
“Blade has something of mine.”
Giann smiled, an ugly twist of her mouth. “Everyone knows you haven’t used her in years. Why so territorial?”
Faelen didn’t let her provoke him. “Step aside.”
She retreated, and held open the huge carved door. As he passed, she reached out as if to stroke him. He sent her a sharp command.
No
Giann glared at him and snatched back her hand. He waits for you upstairs.
Faelen swept past her. He opened his senses to Ilsa. Her terror and disgust struck him like a wave crashes against a sea cliff. He strode through the house, conscious of the presence of many enemy vampires as he went.
At the base of a huge curved staircase, a fledgling stood guard. He hissed at Faelen, showing the double fangs Blade often produced in his casual conversions of victims. The vampire looked less than twenty years aged. Transformation madness, common in altered humans, made his eyes glitter.
Humans, forced into conversion rarely survived. If the initial ordeal didn’t kill them, a rabies like condition of the brain which often developed, killed them not long after.
Faelen doubted the pathetic creature possessed the capacity for sending, so he spoke. “I am Magnus.”
Again the fledgling hissed, but slunk aside in reluctant submission.
Upstairs, he followed Ilsa’s mental cries down a wide black carpeted hall, to a bedroom at the end. The door stood open. Faelen paused just outside the doorway. He saw Blade, fully dressed, stretched out on a huge bed beside a naked and bound Ilsa. A gag prevented her from calling out. The black leather straps of a bondage harness extendend to her knees, where they concluded with a steel bar bracing them apart. Her eyes spoke volumes, wide and glassy with fear.
Blade sat up, smiled. “Where’s my kitty-cat?”
Faelen stepped across the threshold into his enemy’s laire. Under normal circumstances, he couldn’t have entered uninvited. Because he shared blood with Ilsa, had taken hers and given her enough of his to suspend her aging, she remained linked to him. By vampyre law she belonged to him, so he met no resistance. Blade leapt between him and the bed.
“She is linked to me by blood,” Faelen said. “Or I couldn’t cross the threshold.”
Ilsa whimpered and Blade grinned at the sound. “Haven’t gotten around to using her yet. But, I licked her a little.” He sniggered. “She cried when I put my tongue in her.”
Faelen backhanded Blade. The force of the blow sent him across the room. He crashed into a wall and fell to the floor, cursing and hissing. Blade got to his feet. Blood, dark and glossy welled from his mouth where his elongated, lowered canines cut him.
Hot, feral anger coursed through Faelen. “Don’t ever put your hands on anything that belongs to me.”
“That little green-eyed piece isn’t yours yet.”
“If you didn’t glut yourself on tainted blood,” Faelen replied, “you’d know she is.”
Faelen knew Blade’s taste for the blood of drug users dulled the preternatural senses that came with The Change. Blade sought the thrill, and despite his furious denials of it, his weakness had become common knowledge.
“You can’t protect her every minute, Cairo. I’ll get to her.”
Faelen untied Ilsa. He took off his long coat and wrapped it around her. Her hands shook so badly he had to button it for her.
“I prayed you’d come for me,” she sobbed. “I knew only you could-”
“Shhh.” He scooped her into his arms and she clung to him with hysterical strength.
Enraged, though unable to act upon it, Blade taunted, “It’ll be that pretty kitty I put my tongue in next.”
“Try it,” Faelen warned, “I’ll rip it out of your head.”
“I want her!” Blade yelled.
Ilsa huddled against his chest.
Faelen held her tighter. He locked gazes with Blade. “Touch my mate, I’ll kill you.”
Faelen took Ilsa to his home. After entrusting her to Shang’s capable hands, he went to wake Tynan.
She lie curled on her side, one hand tucked beneath her cheek, her hair fanned across the spread.
Wake, little one.
She stirred, and turned onto her stomach giving him a splendid view of her fabric-clad bottom and long legs. Faelen’s belly tightened.
Tynan rolled onto her back. She opened her eyes. He knew the second memory returned. She scrambled off the bed, backing away from him. He felt the adrenaline as it pounded through her.
“What did you do to me?” she demanded.
“Easy,” he soothed, “you needn’t fear.”
“Needn’t fear? Are you insane! You kidnapped me!” She glanced around, began backing toward the stairs leading down to the library.
“If you’ll listen, I’ll explain.”
“Just stay away from me.” Her body vibrated with palpable fear and anger. She whirled and bolted down the stairs.
Faelen followed slowly, watched her flight across the ground floor of the library. When she reached the door and found it locked, she pivoted and put her back to it. Her hair streamed around her and her eyes flashed with spirit.
“You’re safe with me, Tynan.” He halted several feet from her.
“Tell me why you did this.”
“Blade abducted some one I care about. I brought you here where I knew you’d be safe while I went for her.”
“One kidnapping warrants another?” She faced him down despite the fear he felt coming from her. “Who are you, Faelen? Why no police?”
He ignored the first question. He’d answer that when she could understand. “Ilsa is a madam. I couldn’t have the authorities involved.”
“Madam? As in red carpet and gold mirrors madam?” Disapproval dripped from her words.
He didn’t like her judgmental tone. “Yes. But that’s her concern. Mine is protecting you from Blade.”
“Listen,” Tynan began, seeming to attempt to remain calm enough to reason with him, “I appreciate the sense of obligation. I do not appreciate your using some kind of Vulcan mind meld, parlor trick on me, carrying me off to God knows where, and holding me against my will.”
“I regret the necessity.”
“You are not responsible for me. I want to go. Now.”
“I won’t risk your life.”
Her cheeks flushed and she stepped directly in front of him. “It isn’t yours to risk or not.”
Such a statement from his mate made Faelen’s blood heat with possessive outrage. He did his best to temper the visceral response. She had no idea the gauntlet she’d tossed down.
“Before you say anything else, Tynan, I want you to meet someone.” He held out his hand to her.
She looked at it, then back up at him. “Anything to get out of here.”
“I’ll give you my word, that after you meet the woman Blade took, should you still want to leave, I’ll take you home.”
Tynan studied him, wary as a hunted doe. “Why do I hear an ‘but’ coming on?”
He nodded, acknowledging her perception. “But, you give me your word, you’ll meet her. No reckless bolting.”
“Buddy, you’ve got yourself a deal.”
Faelen knocked twice on the door and his servant he’d left outside, Eldon, unlocked it. Eldon swung it open. Faelen offered her his arm. She refused him a second time.
Tossing him a fury filled glance, she said, “Let’s get this over with.”




CHAPTER THREE

Tynan hadn’t experienced so much anger in her entire life. As she stepped out of the huge library into the hall, she looked at the uniformed man who held the door.
“Your boss snatched me from my home.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he replied. Dressed in a grey and black livery, he stared straight at the wall across from him rather than her.
Giving him a quick scrutiny, she noted his ramrod straight posture, and bland expression. In fifteen years he’d make a fine stiff backed butler, a throw back to the type she’d read about in Regency novels. In her current temper, she couldn’t hold her tongue. She marched round in front of him.
“Tell me your name? I’ll need it for the kidnapping charge I plan to file.”
He didn’t hesitate. “Eldon, ma’am. Robert Eldon.”
Behind her, she heard Faelen close the doors. She didn’t spare Faelen a glance as she addressed his servant. “Your Mr. Eldon suffers from misplaced loyalty.”
Faelen replied, “She’s just across the hall.”
Tynan took her first look at her surroundings. They stood in a large hallway. Double doors at each end, and those she’d come through, shut it from whatever lie beyond. Two doors on the opposite wall indicated rooms. A huge Ambusson carpet of yellow, grey, black and red stretched down the center. Despite her agitation, she had to admire it, and the many exquisite tapestries that hung upon the white walls. Old fashioned street gaslights mounted in the flagstone floor illuminated it all.
Faelen rapped on the right door. A moment later the Oriental man who’d come to her apartment opened it. He stepped back, and Tynan saw the lamplit room.
Decorated in shades of cream and dusty blue, with antique furniture and paintings, the room stretched wide and long. At the far wall, stood a pair of overstuffed Provincial chairs. The most elegant woman Tynan had ever seen rose from one.
Her movements echoed the grace of her slender form. “Faelen has told me of you,” she said, extending a slim, long nailed hand. The tear-redness of her aquamarine eyes didn’t didn’t detract from their loveliness. She took Tynan’s hand. With her refined feminine voice full of concern, she continued, “The thought of another woman enduring Blade’s cruelty horrifies me. Please. Let Faelen protect you.”
The sincerity threw Tynan off guard. The Ilsa’s cool beauty made such warmth unexpected. Tynan withdrew her hand. “I realize you’ve had a tough time.”
“Blade told me what he wanted to do to you.” The other woman gazed at her with an imploring expression. Her short sleek platinum hair and pale skin seemed to accent her distress. “You believe the police can help. They can’t. They’ll conduct a thorough investigation of your disappearance. But they won’t save your life. Stay with Faelen.”
A flashing recollection of recent news stories about missing women made Tynan’s nape prickle. “How am I safer here?”
Faelen stepped around Tynan. “Introductions are needed. Tynan Singleton,” he gestured to the slim blonde, “Ilsa Baltimore. Ilsa, I’d like you to meet,” his next words she heard only phonetically, “ma il-shlav-ah.”
Ilsa’s expression changed. Her head turned in a flash. Staring at him, she repeated, “Il-shlav-ah?”
“I don’t like this left out feeling,” Tynan declared, irritated anew.
Ilsa faced her. “Forgive us. To answer your question, you’ll be safe here because Faelen,” she paused slightly as if searching for the right words, “has a security system Blade cannot breach.” Ilsa smiled, the wan, melancholy smile of a tragic heroine only the most delicate woman can carry off. “And, he defends with the dedication of an Autherian knight.”
Tynan’s memory of his timely intervention remained fresh. So did the recollection of the tenderness in his voice just before she blacked out. But, she was no where near ready to make peace.
“I resent his high-handed tactics,” she said
“Faelen possesses many gifts. Don’t dislike him for it.”
Conscious of his nearness, Tynan replied, “Right now I can take my pick of things to dislike him for.”
“Stay a week, at least,” Ilsa petitioned.
“Wait a second.” Tynan held up her hand. “This is too strange for me. Ilsa, nice meeting you. I’m going home.”
“Shang.” Faelen spoke the name with the sort of inflection that made it a command. But to do what?
Tynan’s gaze cut to him. “You gave me your word.”
“I will honor it,” he replied.
Ilsa returned to her chair. The luxurious apricot chenille robe she wore brought out her aristocratic, though fragile features and the beauty of her pale coloring. Her light blue eyes went to Faelen. Some illusive communication passed between the two of them. It seemed clear Faelen and Ilsa shared a long history. A pang of some emotion uncomfortably like jealousy shot through Tynan.
The lovely blonde returned her gaze to Tynan. “I commend your spirit of self-reliance. But I fear you’re underestimating the danger of your situation. I hope Faelen does not let you make a mistake.”
“I will take her home. Against my wishes.”
If you care for her,” Ilsa argued, “you’ll keep her here. Blade’s run mad with jealousy of you and lust for her.
A warning tingle tightened Tynan’s nape. “I get the feeling I’m missing a significant piece of the bigger picture here.”
Faelen offered her his arm with the same gentlemanly courtesy as before. “Shang will have the car ready.”
Tynan declined the gesture. In parting she said to Ilsa, “I’m glad you’re all right. Maybe we’ll meet again sometime.
“Perhaps.” The woman smiled warmly, though with a touch of irony.
Just at that instant, Tynan remembered her profession. Her cheeks flushed. “Goodnight.”
Out in the hall, Faelen opened the double doors nearest them. Tynan proceeded him, stepped into an area of soaring ceilings and pale silver-grey veined marble floors. Directly opposite, separated on either side by mirrored walls, was a foyer. In the middle of it, a fountain spouted and tumbled.
To her left, she saw a huge room filled with an array of antique instruments, and a pianoforte. On the dark paneled walls hung glorious oil paintings. A gilt and crystal chandelier, very much like one she’d seen in a movie about seventeenth century France, hung about ten feet above the floor, suspended from the high ceiling.
Looking right, Tyan saw a room of equal size furnished with a gigantic suede sectional sofa and a mix of rich, modern furnishings and antiques. A tremendous woven rug, perhaps Turkish in origin, stretched over much of the floor. It added black, red, and white to the near monochromatic scheme of the light grey upholstered furniture. Best of all, the far wall hosted a painted mural, so life like, Tynan could almost imagine the house stood upon the Tuscan countryside.
The mixture of time periods and subtle ethnic accents struck a curious harmony. All the exotic places she longed to visit seemed represented in one form or another, housed like pampered ambassadors in this palatial estate.
Trying not to gape, she followed Faelen past the fountain to a towering door. It opened. She saw Shang standing beside the long, sleek black limo parked at the end of the flagstone walk, and wondered who had opened the door for them..
To satisfy her curiosity, she glanced back. Another servant dressed in the same livery as Eldon, backed into the foyer, shutting the carved door behind.
“This place operates like something out of a Vincent Price movie,” she commented, still irritated. “You walk up to a door, and it just opens.” She spared him a glance as they walked to the car. “Where do you have your staff brainwashed? I might check into it before I open my shop. Good help is tough to find.”
Faelen halted ahead of her. The skin over his slanted cheekbones seemed more taut as he opened the door for her. His amber eyes glinted with panther-like intensity. Leashed energy crackled in the air around him. In her present mood, she opted not to heed the warning signs.
She ducked into the car, scooted all the way across the black, buttery soft leather seat to the opposite side. If he planned to join her for the ride, he would have to do it at a distance.

Faelen held his temper in check. He kept reminding himself Tynan had no idea the female challenges she tossed out constituted personal taunts to him as her mate. During the ride, he let her keep her distance and did not break the silence.
Less than a mile from her apartment, he sensed a trespass on the ground he now considered his. Another vampire, maybe several, had invaded her home. He felt certain Blade had dispatched some of his fledglings here. As the space where his mate abided, the place fell to him to protect.
Faelen said nothing as they pulled up to the curb. Shang stopped the car and quickly opened the door for Tynan. He had her keys in his hands
Looking up the steps, Faelen saw the door. It hung half off its hinges, dangling at an awkward angle.
“You see this?” she demanded, pointing. She rushed up the stairs. “consider yourself sued, buster. I’ll-” Her words ended with a shocked cry.
Faelen ascended the stairs, stopped behind her. Pools of dark, shiny blood patchworked the wood floor of the kitchen. In the living room beyond, bookshelves were turned over, their books scattered and speckled with blood. The stench of it made Tynan put her hand over her nose and mouth. He could smell the transformation madness in it. He saw her sway.
“My books,” she whispered.
Catching her shoulders, Faelen steadied her. “I will have them restored. Shang, get a crew here tonight. I want everything made right in twenty-four hours.”
“I worked so hard...” Tynan wrenched free. The lash of her pain struck him in a brutal broadside. She dodged the foul puddles and her scattered possessions.
He followed her through the wrecked living room, to a small bedroom. Someone had ripped the covers and spread from the bed. They lie in a heap, tangled and stained. In the same manner, they’d pulled clothes from the closet and dresser drawers.
Faelen’s anger boiled lava hot.
He watched her pick her way to the bathroom. She knelt by the blood-splotched remains of a framed art print. As he observed, she would have reached into the jagged mess.
“My bonds,” she whispered.
“No.” Faelen sank down beside her. “Allow me.” He sorted through and found three blood-wet bonds, each for fifteen thousand, among the ruin.
“My Great Aunt Claire left them to me.” Tynan sniffed. “She made me swear to always keep them close. Never trust them to a bank”. She swiped the back of her hand across her cheeks. “Auntie Claire grew up during the depression.”
Faelen remembered the time well. He sent comfort, and the knowledge he’d make it right.
Tynan shook her head, stood, and met his gaze. She gave her head another shake, then met his gaze, leaf-green eyes ablaze. “What is that you do? Quit messing with my head. If I want to grieve, I’ll grieve. Understand?”
“I only offered comfort,” he replied.
She got to her feet shakily, put her hand on the wall to catch her balance. “You’re to blame for this.”
Faelen stood, placed the bonds on the edge of the sink with great care. He ran some water, further wetting them and the counter so they wouldn’t stick until the clean up team could process them. “Don’t blame me for another’s crime.” He washed and dried his hands, conscious of ridding himself of the tainted blood.
“You carried me off against my will, that crime’s all yours. And, whatever’s between you two made him do this,” Tynan accused. “My home, my life is trashed and I want to know why!”
“You rejected him,” he answered. “Blade can’t handle that.”
“That’s over simplification!” she raged. “If it had nothing to do with you, he wouldn’t have snatched your friend, the madam.” Tynan’s fury and shock radiated in waves. “I’m calling the police. If I don’t get this documented, my landlord will hold me accountable.”
“I will make this right,” Faelen said.
She pushed away from the wall, and stood straight. “The only thing I want from you, is a back view as you’re leaving.”
Faelen knew in that instant he would soon love her. Her spirit and strength made it inevitable. Protecting his mate became his first priority. Later he would make it up to her.
“Forgive me, ilshlava.”
Her eyes snapped to his. They brimmed with accusation and anger. “Faelan, don’t.”
He hated it. Still, he knew he must. “I have no choice.”
“No.” Tynan put her hands out, as if to ward off his intentions. “We made a deal. I talk to your girlfriend, you take me home.”
“Did I not?” Faelan knew that brand of hair-splitting logic wouldn’t reclaim her favor. Still, he had no intention of standing amid this noxious mess, arguing the point further.
“You bastard,” she hissed. “How dare you pull that kind of underhanded-”
Faelen commanded, “Sleep.”
Tynan crumpled. He caught her up in his arms and carried her out of the bedroom.
Shang’s eyebrows lifted the barest fraction in surprise, before all trace of expression disappeared from his face. “I have made all the necessary arrangements for clean-up.”
“Good.” Faelen picked his way through the wreckage. “The Jag’s still parked down the street from earlier. I’ll take it and you come home when you can.”
“Shall I pack a bag for her, sir?”
“Yes, and see if you can locate a day planner, or anything to learn if and when some one might miss her.”
“It shall be done.”
Pausing on the landing, Faelen faced his servant and friend. “One more thing. Issue a formal summons to Giann. Tonight, the estate, alone. I want no misunderstanding of my intentions for her and Blade’s disciples.”
Shang inclined his head. “As you wish.”
Faelen surveyed the street as he descended the stairs. A small group of well-dressed people came toward him, laughed and discussed plans for the rest of their evening. They spoke about their nearby residences and haunts.
Settling Tynan’s head so her face remained hidden against his shoulder, he said, “You’re so shy, Tynan.” He pitched his voice to carry to them, opened himself to their reactions as he carried her to the car. All noted their presence and interpreted it just as he intended. An enjoyable voyeuristic glimpse at two people enamored of each other. If anyone missed Tynan, asked around, several witnesses could testify to having heard her name. The picture they’d give with that would help dispel initial suspicion.

When Faelen settled Tynan in his bed, he went to Ilsa and asked her to sit with Tynan until he finished with Blade’s mistress.
“Of course,” she replied, rising from her seat. “It pleases me you’ve brought her back.”
He thanked her, then went to find Eldon. He located him coming from the kitchen.
“Sir,” Eldon said, “I just heard you’d returned.”
“I’ve brought Miss Singleton with me,” Faelen told him. “Miss Baltimore is with her.”
“I’ll make the rest of the staff aware of it, sir.”
“Tonight I’m expecting someone,” Faelen continued, “a woman called Giann. One of my kind, Eldon, and you must take care around her.”
“I’ll handle her myself.”
“Good. Bring her to my study.”
Faelen wrote a letter to the Council of the Vampyre, formally stating his grievance against Blade and his petition for Right of Magnus. Sprinkling fine grain Egyptian sand over the ink, he then shook off the excess into the waste basket. He folded it, placed it into a heavy vellum envelope, addressed and sealed it with black wax. Into it, he pressed his seal.
As he placed it into the carved sandalwood box with other outgoing correspondence, a knock came at the door.
“Enter.”
Eldon opened the door, stepping aside. “Miss-”
“Just Giann,” she corrected dismissing him with a flick of her white hand. Faelen noticed her long nails gleamed with metallic blue polish. The first two, she had filed to vicious points. “Go dust something, before I forget my fine upbringing and rip you open to warm my hands.”
To Eldon’s credit, his smooth manner and expression did not falter. “Call if require anything further, sir.” He withdrew and closed the door.
Faelen did not rise. He indicated the seat opposite his desk. “Make yourself comfortable.”
She more fell than sat, leaned back, and negligently propped her feet, with their spike-heeled boots, on his desk. Her red vinly jacket and pants matched them to a shade. Narrowing her eyes at him, she said, “Well, here I am, front and center. Make it snappy.”
I am Magnus he sent in a warning lash.
Her pale face grew paler still from the mental punishment. “I won’t be schooled by you. Magnus or not.”
Faelen sent a swift aggressive blow. You will.
“Stop it!” Giann put her head in her hands. Her defiance broke beneath the strength of his telepathic discipline.
Faelen showed mercy at once. He had no grievance against her, only her lover. When she straightened and faced him, two shiny, blood-stained tears slid down her cheek.
“Now we’ve settled that,” Faelen began, “I’ll come to the point.”
Giann swiped away the tears impatiently. “Do.”
“Blade violated vampire law when he took a human still linked to me by blood.”
“Why should you give a damn?” Giann demanded. “You haven’t touched her for years. Everybody knows.”
“I don’t answer to you.” Faelen leaned back in his deep leather chair. “However, for sake of clarity between us, I’ll tell you. What is mine, I protect. Ilsa still belongs to me. Blade should respect that, and our laws. Even if he’s too stupid to respect me.”
“So? Why tell me?”
“Blade intends to make a try for Tynan,” he explained, “if he does, I’ll kill him.” He gave her a second to absorb that, before he added, “I’ve already drafted a petition to the Council to claim Right of Magnus.”
She laughed, the sound thin and brittle. “You’re stuck in the dark ages, Cairo.”
“Worry about where you’re stuck,” he answered. “Between two feuding vampires.”
Giann shrugged, recovered some of her bravado. “Blade’s not bound by the prissy old council laws and old-fashioned codes you are. That gives him an advantage.”
“He’ll need any he can get.” Faelen sensed the currents of fear and attraction running beneath her tattered facade of negligence. “If you and Blade’s followers don’t want to suffer with him, leave.”
A glint of her usual sexual avarice returned. “Will you punish me yourself?”
“I want as little to do with you as possible, Gianneth.” He used her full name to help drive home his words. “You’re a scourge to your family. You’ve disgraced the aristocratic House of Nadirah with your reckless, indiscreet affairs and conversions. Blade, of course, having the distinction of being your most foolish.” Watching her reaction, he said, “On both counts.”
She glared at him. Between her thin, parted lips, her lowered canines glittered, shown in sudden vampire threat. “I wouldn’t mind a taste of her myself. Maybe I’ll help him grab your new toy.
Not impressed by her display, Faelen responded, “For your sake, I hope not.”
“You’d kill me, too?” she taunted. “And ruin your reputation as a gentleman?”
“No.” He met her gaze as he delivered the coup de grace. “I’ll indulge your mother’s request to return you to Nadirah House. Kicking and screaming or sealed in a sarcophagus if I must.”
Giann leapt to her feet, hissing like a cat. “Bastard!”
Faelen ignored her flare of temper. “You understand me?”
“Kyhata! Vulnimae ci! Nyhith est vhous!” Giann screeched, eyes blazing.
“You impress me,” Faelen said, almost amused at her creative cursing. “I thought your preference for the gutter had robbed you of the ability to use our evolved tongue.”
“I’ll see her used up! Sucked dry!”
“Leave my home, Gianneth,” he commanded. “But, remember my words.”

*****

Let me know if there's a desire to see more of this. ~ K