The case had been eating at him for weeks, she could tell. Young supernatural women disappearing from the clubs, only to turn up days later drained of blood, their memories wiped. Someone was harvesting supernatural essence, and the trail led deep into werewolf territory—her territory.

"The pack's getting restless," Luna continued, her fingers drumming against the desk. "Three of our females have gone missing. The elders are talking about handling this ourselves."

Marcus stood, bringing himself close enough that Luna could feel the unnatural stillness that marked him as undead. No heartbeat, no breathing, just controlled power wrapped in an attractive package.

"That would be a mistake," he said quietly.

"Would it?" Luna tilted her head, studying his face. "Your kind doesn't exactly have a stellar track record with ours."

"I'm not them." The words came out rougher than she'd heard from him before.

Luna had been fighting her attraction to Marcus for months, telling herself it was just the danger, just the forbidden nature of their association. But looking at him now, seeing something vulnerable flicker across his usually controlled features, she couldn't deny the truth any longer.

"No, you're not," she said softly. Her hand moved to rest on his chest, right over his silent heart. "You're different, Marcus Kane. The question is, different enough?"

Before he could respond, she slid off the desk and headed for the door, pausing to look back at him. "Meet me at the Crescent Moon tonight. Come alone, and come hungry."