"You should let him solve his own problem," Sinclair said in a low voice, as Nick let himself out. "He's playing on your misplaced guilt."

"Misplaced? We raped his brain. And lied about it. To his face. For over a year."

He shrugged. He'd been a vampire too long; his conscience went right out the window sometimes.

"Have you ever considered - "

"Yes."

"Don't be a wiseass. Have you ever thought that the guy hates us and knows how to kill us, but hasn't?"

"I credit Jessica with that more than Detective Berry's good sense."

"Point," I conceded. "And yeah, it's a little obnoxious that he came over all expecting me to say yes right away - "

"Also, you're flattered."

"I am not! Okay, a little. Listen, this is our chance to win him back!"

"And why," he sighed, rubbing my shoulders, while I tried not to purr and lean into him, "would we want to do that?"

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"Listen. Oooh, don't stop. The whole reason you pushed Jess to go out with him was because you wanted a source in the police department." I paused. "Another source, I mean. That reminds me. You've been keeping secrets. More than usual, I mean."

"Oh?" he said silkily, tightening his grip. My collarbones groaned under the pressure. Or maybe that was me groaning. "Because there are one or two things I would like to discuss with you as well, if you're opening that door."

"Ahhhh... well, that's, um - " Fortunately, I was saved by the sound of splintering wood, and then Nick skidded down the foyer, his face a mask of blood.

"Face us, false queen!"

"Oboy," I said, nearly tripping as Sinclair grabbed me and thrust me behind his back. "That doesn't sound good."




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