She had no way to tell the time, with no windows in the room and no discernable illumination except for a nightlight in the bathroom. After accustoming her sight to the dim room, she slid out of bed and stood, looking down at the shadow that was Kraft.
Awkward didn’t begin to describe her feelings.
Kraft’s chest didn’t rise or fall. As a vampire, he didn’t need oxygen to survive, just bloode (with an “E”—the magical kind) to pump through his heart. A vampire, blood-drinker, death-bringer. The same kind who had killed her parents and tortured other magir just for the fun of it. And she’d fooled around with him.
She wanted to hate herself for it but couldn’t.
Her direwolf gave an inner snarl.
Why should she hate herself? A berserker, starved for sex, had needs. Kraft had provided. Riley wasn’t so biased that she would hate all vampires for what one fanger had done to her parents. Sure, she didn’t have to like all of them. That Khent guy had been a huge pain.
But Kraft was different. Not wholly evil, not super angry or treating her like a tool to be used. He’d treated her like a woman to be pleased. That orgasm had been much-needed, and she should stop trying to make more of it than a mutual scratching of itches. Which sounded horrible.
She’d had sex and liked it. There. Period. Done.
Riley studied Kraft as he slept, the darkness of the room obscuring his features. But she gave in to impulse and ran her fingers through his jaggedly cut hair, marveling at the soft texture. Like running her hand through silk.
He sighed and turned so that her hand cupped his cheek. Then he smiled.
Smiled?
She whipped her hand away. Her heart gave a weird pitter patter, and she hastily backed up, needing some distance and perspective. For all she knew, she’d been under a spell. One he’d crafted to get her to sleep with him?
No. He’d been just as confused before they’d sacked out. Before she’d turned into her direwolf and he’d turned into his wolf. A wolf as big as she was. How about that?
Still freaked out about what the heck had happened between them, she quickly cleaned up and tiptoed out of the room. She made it to the kitchen when she realized the sun shone brightly through the windows.
“How long was I asleep?”
“No idea, but if the rumor is true and you got here around ten last night, I’d say you slept for twelve straight hours,” a perky voice answered.
Riley spun to see a petite woman with long black hair threaded with a thick streak of white smiling at her. She wore jeans and a sweatshirt and looked like a model—with gray skin. The woman had to be fae of some kind with those pointed ears and overly large, purple eyes.
“Um.”Way to stare, doofus.
The woman’s grin broadened. “Hi. I’m Fara. I’m the power gem specialist and fae liaison. Doesn’t that sound fancy?”
“It does.” Riley smiled back, the female’s joy infectious. “I’m Riley. Nice to meet you.”
“Would you like something to drink? I understand humans like coffee.”
“I’m not human, but coffee sounds great.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
Riley joined Fara in the kitchen. “Please, don’t be. I’m lycan and working with Kraft on something.”
“Oh, you must be the berserker after the fourth Bloode Stone.”
“Huh?”
Fara blinked. “Right. Forget I said anything about Bloode Stones. You never heard that from me, and if you mention it anywhere, vampires will devour you and everyone you know.”
Riley felt a sweat break out. “Gotcha. I never heard what you said and will never repeat it to others. Ever.”
Fara sighed. “I’ve gotten too comfy in this house. Anyway, what I meant to say is that the artifact you’re looking for will lead us to the fourththingwe need. It’s an important part of our defense against some evil that’s coming to end the world. You know how it is.”
“Oh, sure. In fact, just last night, I was with Kraft at the bazaar fighting some evil. Lots of blood and guts to be had. Great stuff.”
