That last thought struck terror into her soul. Why had she thought that? She could find a man. A human man. It wouldn’t be this one, but there must be someone.

The man stirred. “Come home with me?”

“It isn’t me you want,” she said gently, moving to put a few inches between them.

He tightened his hold, pulling her body into his. “It isn’t me you want either, but we can help each other,” he pleaded, wanting someone to push away the ghosts for a few precious hours.

The smell of his blood called to her. Alexandria’s stomach lurched, and she felt bile rise into her throat. She shook her head adamantly. “I’m sorry, I can’t do this.” When she went to step away, the music changed to a frantic, driving rhythm that seemed to goad the man to clutch at her. As his arm tightened across her back, static electricity seemed to arc from the floor into his arm, jolting him. He swore and released her immediately. Surprised, Alexandria stepped away. “What happened?”

“You shocked me!” he accused.

“I did?” She inched away from him. Had she inadvertently done so without knowing it? Or had it been an accident? She had no idea, but she was grateful for the timely intervention. She ducked into the whirling, gyrating crowd and made her way across the room, the music beating in her head, through her body.

Alexandria found the bar. Several men in suits parted to allow her access. Their greetings were speculative, hopeful. They seemed nice enough. Some were good-looking. Some even seemed legitimately friendly. But she felt nothing. It was as if she was totally empty inside. Dead.

Suddenly wondering what she was doing, what she was trying to prove to herself, she spun around, leaned her back against the bar, and stared down at her shoes. There was no way around it. She had never been a promiscuous person. It just wasn’t in her. She wasn’t attracted to a man for his looks, and even those who mildly intrigued her, whom she had things in common with, didn’t stir her physically.

“You look sad,” one of the suits observed. “Do you want to grab a booth and talk? Just talk.” He held up his hands, palms out. “I mean it. No come-on, just talk. My name’s Brian.”

“Alexandria,” she said, but she shook her head. He was too nice to lead on. He said he wanted to talk, but she could read his deeper interest easily. “Thanks, but I think I’ll go home.”

Home. Where was home? She didn’t have one. The sorrow was almost too much for her to bear. She looked up, and her gaze was caught on the darkest corner of the room. Golden eyes gleamed back at her. Her heart jumped. She couldn’t look away, captivated by the intensity in that unblinking stare.

Aidan moved slowly out of the shadows. Glided. Rippled. Stalked like a great jungle cat. He took her breath away. Tall. Sexy. Powerful. Eyes only for her. Locked on her. Beneath his silk shirt his muscles rippled suggestively. He looked elegant, exuded power, was without equal.

She found herself trembling in anticipation of his touch. Just like that, the mere sight of him had brought her back to life. Like the Red Sea, the crowd parted to allow him through. No one touched him, brushed against him, or jostled him. Even the suits pressing close to her moved aside to allow him entrance into their private domain. Then he was standing in front of her, holding out a hand, his eyes trapping her gaze.

Whether it was compulsion or obsession, Alexandria didn’t know. She didn’t even care. She couldn’t have stopped herself for any reason. She was fighting a useless battle. She needed him, and there he was. She placed her hand in his, and when he closed his fingers around hers and drew her to him, it felt as if she was giving herself away.

“Dance with me, cara mia. I need to feel you against me.” His words, his voice, were far too seductive to resist.

Alexandria slipped easily into his arms. She fit perfectly. He was strong and warm, and the electricity was instantly crackling between them. Her head found a niche in his shoulder. Her body found his rhythm easily; she was born for it, his other half. It was black-velvet seduction, pure magic.

This was home. In his arms. She closed her eyes, savoring the feel of his body against hers. The music was dreamy, unbelievable in such a place. Not once on the crowded floor did another touch them. He moved them in perfect syncopation, the heat rising between them with every step. Flames seemed to lick along her skin, move to his, and come back again.

Aidan bent his head to taste her. His lips, soft, hot, brushed her neck, lingering for a heartbeat on her pulse. He felt it jump beneath the moist heat of his mouth, felt it begin to race frantically. “Come home with me, piccola,” he whispered urgently, his teeth scraping her skin gently, persuasively, gliding back and forth across her pulse. Her blood sang to him, cried out for him. “Do not torment me any longer.”

Her body swayed with his, liquid and pliant. She had never needed anything so much in her life. She made no sound. She couldn’t. But he knew her answer even in her silence. He could read it in her enormous eyes.

They moved toward the door, Alexandria barely aware of her surroundings, yet again Aidan protected her from the crush, his body always between hers and the crowd. Outside, the night seemed to greet them, to welcome them, the stars brighter than usual, the air carrying fragrant scents from the ocean.

Aidan slipped an arm around her waist, locking her beneath the protection of his shoulder. She tilted her head to look up at him. “I should have known you would follow me to protect me. What did you do to that poor man in the leather outfit?”

He laughed softly. “He likes black widow spiders. He also likes hurting women. And I do not like other men touching you.”

“I noticed.”

He stopped her on the street corner, crushed her to him, and lifted her chin. His golden gaze seemed riveted on her lower lip, and she felt her breath catch in her throat. He made a sound somewhere between a moan and a growl and lowered his head. His mouth fastened on hers, and the earth moved beneath her feet. Her body melted into his until there was only Aidan and Alexandria, a part of the night itself.

The surge of hunger, of need, was so strong, so overwhelming, Alexandria clung to him to keep from falling. He wrapped his arms around her, and they were moving through time and space. The wind blew through her hair so that it streamed out behind them in a siren’s song, rippling in the clear night like strands of silk.

His mouth moved over hers, consuming, dominating, hungry beyond human boundaries. His tongue explored every inch of the velvet interior of her mouth, demanding her response. Alexandria heard herself moan, the sound low, pleading.

Then the third-floor balcony was beneath his feet. He simply waved a hand, and the glass door slid open. It stayed that way, the breeze from the sea a welcome counterpoint to the heat of their bodies. He followed her down to the quilt-covered four-poster bed, blanketing her body with his own, unable to take the chance she might panic and flee. He could not wait any longer. He could not let her go this time. His hands caressed her soft skin, traced the inviting swell of her breasts, pushed the fabric of her shirt roughly out of his way to expose her body to his golden scrutiny. The cool air felt sensuous on her hot skin, her breasts aching and full under his heated gaze. His hand cupped a breast, held the soft weight in his palm possessively.

“Doyou feel the darkness in me, Alexandria’?” he whispered, his voice husky and aching. “It is growing, spreading. Feel it in me.” His mouth found her eyes, her temple, the corner of her mouth, her throat. Each kiss was feather-light but left a burning brand, his imprint for all time on her soul. “Give yourself to me. For now. For eternity. Feel the darkness in me, and take it away.”