Bastard.

"So the real reason you came to my apartment last night was for a little extra information gathering? I bet it sucked having your grand plans foiled by Kellen's presence."

"It wasn't the only reason I was here last night. I did want to see you."

Yeah. Believing that big time. "How in the hell could you supposedly feel anything when we're supposedly only sharing erotic dreams and nothing more?"

He didn't answer. No surprise there. The bastard never answered questions that really mattered.

He walked toward me and held out my panties. I snatched them from his hand and threw them to the floor. And some childish part of me wanted to stomp all over them—or maybe its just that I wanted to stomp all over Quinn, and with no hope of achieving that, they were the next best option.

"Was I ever anything more than just a convenient source of information?" I asked bitterly.

He reached out, his fingers briefly caressing my check with heat until I jerked away from his touch. His hand dropped back to his side, but the determination in his eyes said he was far from defeated.

"There has always been something more between us."

"Yeah, great sex."

"More than that. I care for you, Riley. Deeply."

I snorted softly. "You keep saying that, and yet you couldn't even be bothered coming to see me for the last two months. The only reason you're here now is the fact that you sensed something was happening with the case."

He studied me, arms crossed, face impassive. But there was nothing impassive in his eyes. Nothing impassive in the explosive swirl of emotion scorching my skin with heat.

"If it was your brother they'd snatched and killed, would you not do everything in your power to exact revenge? Even if that meant betraying someone you cared for greatly?"

"That's different—"

"No, it's fucking not! Henri was my brother in all but blood. I will not let these fools get away with his murder. I will have my revenge, no matter what I have to do!" He paused, then added softly, "Or who I have to hurt."

I held up my hands, not pushing him away but certainly ready to. "Don't touch me."

"This will not end here," he said flatly. "I won't let it."

"Right now, you have no goddamn choice. I want you to leave and I don't want you to come back and I don't want to see you again."

He snorted. "You'll see me, not only in your dreams, but on the mission. It starts today and I will be involved in it."

So he'd gotten that much from me. Bastard.

"Go," I said fiercely, "before you make me do something I might not regret."

He studied me for a moment, then spun on his heel and walked to the door. But he stopped with his hand on the knob, and looked over his shoulder at me. "I'll see you at the Directorate. And you had better tell Jack about that increase in power, or I will."

With that he left. The door slammed after him, the noise reverberating through the sudden silence. I closed my eyes and rubbed my temples for a moment, then turned and headed for the shower. And though I could wash the smell of him from my skin, there was no washing away the feel of him in my mind. No getting away from the huge sense of loss and betrayal.

And I hated that, hated that he'd reduced what was between us to that. Because he was right—there was something more, something that had the potential to be magical. Not soul-deep magical, perhaps, but still so very good. His actions might not have destroyed that, but I really didn't know if I would ever be able to get past them.

I lifted my face to the cooling water, letting it wash away the sting from my eyes. After a while, I got out and re-dressed, then headed into the kitchen to make myself another drink.

And it was there, while I was nursing the steaming mug of coffee, that I finally let myself think about the way I'd attacked Quinn.

I'd never had that sort of power before. Yeah, I rated extremely high in all the Directorate telepathic tests, but I'd never gotten anywhere near reading Quinn's surface thoughts before, let alone busting through any of his shields.

I had tonight, and with such power the force of it had blown him across the room.

Had anger allowed me to tap the reserves Jack kept insisting I had, but had never used? Or was this the first sign that the drug Talon had given me was finally beginning to affect my system?

I didn't know.

But I had a bad feeling I was going to find out, and all too soon.

Chapter Three

"Hey, Riley, you're supposed to be waiting out in front of the building."

Rhoan's cheerful voice rose out of the stillness, making me start. I glanced at the clock, and realized that almost an hour had passed since Quinn had left.

"Sorry," I called, rinsing the mug under the tap as I tried to gather my composure.

Why I bothered I have no idea. He wasn't fooled any more than I would have been.

"What's wrong?" He stopped in the kitchen doorway, his cheerful expression fading quickly to one of concern. "Are you okay?"

"Just dandy, bro."

He frowned, then pulled me into his arms. For several minutes he didn't say anything, just held me. Comforted me.

"Quinn raided my thoughts during sex," I said eventually, my words muffled by his chest. "He knows we're going after Starr."

Tension slipped through his muscles, quick and sharp. "Bastard."

"Exactly what I said. Several times."

"I hope you made him pay."

I sniffed. "Yeah, I did." But who was going to be the real loser—him or me?

"Good." He released me and stepped back. "Have you warned Jack?"

I shook my head. "There's no need. Quinn's going to the Directorate. He never got deep enough to discover we were going to Genoveve."

"But once he discovers Jack's not at the Directorate, Genoveve is the first place he'll check." He glanced at his watch. "I'll ring Jack. You ready to go?"

I nodded. There was nothing to pack, nothing to take, because from here on in, I was going to become someone else.

"Then let's get out of here, just in case he decides to come back for a little more raiding."

I nodded, then suddenly remembered Liander. "I just have to get one thing."

I dashed into my bedroom to get Liander's birthday present, then we left. Once we'd gotten into Liander's van and had merged into the flow of Saturday morning traffic, Rhoan called Jack. I leaned over the front passenger seat and plonked the present onto it.

"Hey, happy birthday, old man."

"Forty-nine is hardly old for a werewolf. And kindly remember that you're going out with someone more than twelve hundred years old."

"Yeah well, that situation might have changed." Though I'd forced a cheerful note into my voice, Liander didn't appear any more fooled than my brother had been.

He gave me a concerned glance. "Are you okay?"

"Floating on happiness," I said dryly. Then waved at the present. "You can open it when we get to Genoveve."

"Or you could tell me now and save me the suspense."

"I don't think so."

He studied it for a second, then said, "It almost looks like a book."

It was—on the history of cinema effects. But I'd added a box of chocolates to fudge the shape a little. "You'll just have to wait and see."

"Bitch."

I grinned.

"Do a U-turn," Rhoan said, his hand momentarily over his cell phone. "Head for Chapel Street."

"Chapel Street?" I said, surprised. "What the hell is there, beside upmarket shops and trendy snobs?"

He waved a hand for me to shut up, so I returned my attention to Liander. In the sharp morning light, he was an almost icy silver. The only thing that lent him some warmth was the blue of his clothes and the matching streaks in his hair.