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  He found it unlikely that Gina’s flirting was the cause.

  Maybe Kri was worried.

  After all, Doomers were scouting clubs, searching for immortal males, and Michael had his doubts about the effectiveness of the cologne he’d doused himself before coming in. The scent couldn’t be strong enough to mask his natural body odor against their superior sense of smell.

  Come to think of it, Kri was emitting a very distinct scent of her own, and it dawned on him that she was actually in greater danger than he was. Under normal circumstances, an immortal female emitted no unique scent and was therefore undetectable to other immortals. Which was probably the main reason none of the clan females had ever fallen into Doomer hands. Except Amanda, but that was a different story; Dalhu had recognized her face from a picture. When turned on, however, the smell of an immortal female’s arousal was very different to that of a human's, and easily detectable to any male immortal. This was the only time she was exposed and vulnerable to Doomers.

  Michael leaned away from Gina and got closer to Kri. “Do you want to go home? You seem antsy,” he whispered in her ear.

  “You think?” she hissed. “These damn pheromones are driving me and every other female in the vicinity insane.”

  Oh. Not cool. So it wasn’t his irresistible male magnetism that was turning Gina into a lusty slut and making his girlfriend squirm in her seat.

  How disappointing.

  Michael nodded. “Well, we’d better head out.” He motioned for Kri to get up and slid out of the booth after her. “It was great seeing you, guys, but it’s getting late. Kri and I have an early morning class tomorrow.” He clapped hands with Zach then took Eddie’s offered paw. “We should do it again soon.”

  “It was nice to meet you,” Kri managed to bite out as she leveled a chilling glare at Gina, forestalling her attack on Michael.

  “Let’s go, baby.” Michael wrapped his arm around Kri’s waist and walked her out.

  “I’m sorry,” she said.

  “About what?”

  “Cutting your evening short because I was horny. I tried to ignore it, but it was impossible. My panties were soaking wet and my nipples were trying to poke holes through my bra. They still do. I didn't hear anything you guys were saying. All I could think about was jumping your bones. That cologne was a stupid idea. I didn't think it through.”

  Not necessarily.

  The effect all that talk about wet panties and hard nipples had on Michael was just as powerful as the pheromone-imbued cologne had on Kri. He couldn’t wait to be inside her.

  In fact, the fifteen minutes or so drive to their apartment in the keep was too long.

  He hugged her closer, running his palm up and down her sashaying hip. “How about we find a dark place and scratch that itch? I don’t think I can wait for us to get home.”

  She bumped her hip against his. “I like the way you think.”

  Outside, Michael gripped Kri’s hand, pulling her with him as he headed around the back to the alley behind the club. There was a deeply recessed doorway there, leading to a storage room that would be locked tight for the night. He’d been there before, necking with a girl whose name he couldn't remember. The nook was dark and secluded. As far as he knew, no one went there during the night. In short, it was perfect for a quickie.

  Except, as they rounded the corner, his enhanced hearing picked up the unmistakable sounds of slurpy kisses and hushed moans. Damn, someone was there. Apparently, his hiding place had been discovered.

  Kri tugged on his hand. “Come on. Let’s check that building.” She pointed to the next one over.

  “Okay.”

  Michael was grateful for Kri’s long legs and purposeful gait as they passed one building after the other and still found no recessed nook they could use. Other than the club’s back wall, all the others had doors that were built flush with the exterior. No recesses meant no privacy, or the illusion of it.

  He stopped and pulled her back. “Let’s go back to the car. We’re wasting our time.”

  “No, look over there, that courtyard. We can hide behind those bushes.” Kri sounded breathless, but he knew it wasn’t due to their fast pace. She was excited. His girl liked to take risks and live dangerously. Having sex somewhere where there was a chance of them getting caught, turned her on like nothing else.

  It wasn't perfect, the place was wide open to the alley, but there was a tree in the middle of the small courtyard, and it was surrounded by rose bushes. The shadow it cast on the building behind it would have to do.

  For once, he had no problem accommodating Kri’s exhibitionist bent. He was so desperate for her, that he was willing to do it with an audience.

  Almost.

  Michael let her pull him to a stretch of wall that was shaded by the tree. As she shoved him against it, her mouth smashed over his and her hand cupped his shaft through his pants.

  He palmed her ass, squeezing, then trailed his fingers down to the seam. Damn, she was so wet she’d soaked her jeans through.

  “Oh, baby, you really need me inside you, don’t you?” He licked her throat and bit down, his useless little fangs nonetheless piercing her skin. Tasting blood, he licked the wounds he'd made closed so he could bite her again, and again. Kri groaned, loving his teeth on her. Without venom, there was not much else he could do for her, but at least his saliva carried the healing agents to help Kri’s immortal body close them fast, so he could bite her again. A poor substitute for what she wanted and needed, but for now it was all he had to offer.

  She moaned, her hips gyrating against his crotch.

  He loved her assertiveness, but he needed to be inside her, and for that they needed to switch places.

  Kri didn’t protest when he turned them both around, pressing her against the wall. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she was busy kissing and nipping every bit of exposed skin. “Take my pants down,” she hissed into his ear then licked the earlobe, sending shivers of pleasure down his spine.

  He did as she’d asked, popping the button on her pants and pushing them down her hips, then doing the same for his and freeing his shaft. Problem was, with her pants only halfway down, she couldn't wrap her legs around him, and discarding them all together when they were out in the open like this was too risky.

  He rubbed his erection against her slickened slit. “You should start wearing skirts.”

  Kri harrumphed. “Not going to happen. Back off a little so I can turn around.”

  Facing the wall, she pressed her hands against the rough brick facade and bent a little, pushing her gorgeous ass out like an offering.

  Fuck, what a sexy sight.

  Just to see her like that, he would bring her to this spot again.

  Bracing with one hand against the wall, Michael gripped his shaft with the other and guided it into Kri’s wet heat. There was nothing he wanted more than to shove into her and start pumping, but instead he teased her entrance, coating himself with her moisture.

  It still felt weird not to use a condom.

  Protecting himself and his partner had been hardwired into his brain. Except Kri had pointed out that diseases were no longer a concern, and that her chances of getting pregnant were nearly nonexistent.

  She pushed back, trying to get him inside her. “Don’t tease me, Michael.”

  With a groan, he obliged her, gripping her hips and pushing into her in one strong thrust. Kri’s stifled moan sounded almost like a growl, and she started moving, pushing and retreating, dictating the tempo she needed.

  Fuck, he was going to spill, like right now.

  “Don’t hold back, baby. This is just round number one.”

  She was right. He could erupt inside her and still be hard, pumping her with another load within minutes, and then another, and then another. Even before his transition, his stamina had been impressive, but now he was like a tireless seed-producing machine.

  Immortality was awesome, but this unexpected perk was at the top of the list.
/>   Oh, the good life.

  Chapter 3: Kri

  As the orgasm rippled through her, Kri leaned her forehead against the rough wall.

  Michael was still going full force, pounding into her from behind and prolonging her pleasure. The skin on her forehead must’ve been scraped raw, but she didn’t care, the high of endorphins was blocking the pain. Besides, she knew the abrasions would heal in no time at all. She was boneless with pleasure and keeping her head up on her neck was too much of an effort.

  Michael was killing her. In the best possible way.

  His rugged breathing and the swelling of his shaft prepared her for the eruption that followed, and she clenched her inner muscles around him, milking him for all he’d got. Which was plenty. Even though he was spent, Michael kept pumping a little longer before sagging against her back and enveloping her body with his larger one.

  What a wild ride.

  There was something about being exposed like this that thrilled her like nothing else. She'd indulged only a couple of times before, and only with Michael, but all three times the experience had been so intense that she was starting to get addicted to it. It wasn't that she was an exhibitionist—performing in front of others was not her thing—but she craved the excitement of almost getting caught.

  It appeared that she was going to get more than she bargained for.

  With Michael breathing heavily in her ear, she almost missed the faint sound of conversation getting nearer.

  She bucked Michael off. "Hurry, get your pants up. Someone is coming."

  Now that he was paying attention, he heard it too, and she didn't need to tell him to be quick about it. They were both properly dressed by the time the voices got louder and a group of young men headed straight into the small courtyard. She flattened her back against the wall and pushed Michael to do the same next to her. Hidden in the shadows, she waited to see what they were up against before making her move.

  "Hey, gimme some." One of the guys snatched a half empty bottle of some kind of alcohol from his friend.

  There were eight of them, the youngest about seventeen and the oldest in his mid-twenties.

  The one whose bottle had been taken didn't fight for it. He passed it on, and as he lit up a cigarette, the tiny flame cast a narrow strip of light on his face. He looked haggard, and the hand holding the cigarette, or rather the joint by the smell of it, was shaking.

  Damn, a druggie.

  The one with the bottle passed it to someone else and lit a joint of his own.

  They were not going anywhere.

  The good news was that they were only a bunch of puny humans, nothing she couldn’t handle. The bad news was that there were eight of them which made them dangerous, not because they outnumbered Michael and her, but because being in a pack made them stupid. Things they would’ve never dared do on their own, in a group might seem like a great opportunity to impress their friends.

  There was another problem, though. Two were wearing jackets, which on a warm evening like this could mean only one thing. They were carrying. Question was, what? Knives or guns. Not that it mattered, none could do real damage to an immortal unless the punks knew what they were doing, which they obviously had no way of knowing. No one in their right, or even impaired mind would think to cut out their victim’s heart to make sure they were dead.

  Except the Aztecs. Those fuckers must have known something. More likely, though, they had been nothing more than bloodthirsty savages. Whatever, now was not the time for contemplating history.

  Appraising her unimpressive adversaries, Kri knew she could dispatch the punks with ease. They posed no real threat to her. The problem was how to do it without killing any of them. Her strength and her training made her a capable killing machine, but Kri had never ended anyone’s life before, human or immortal, and she wasn’t about to tonight. Her first kill was reserved for a Doomer.

  She put a hand on Michael’s shoulder. “Let me handle this and follow my lead.”

  First rule of conflict; avoid it if you can. Second rule; try to disarm a combative situation before it explodes. Third rule; if you have to fight make sure you win.

  The best thing would have been to sneak out without being noticed, but the courtyard was small and enclosed on three sides, with the gang blocking the exit.

  So the first one was out.

  She would have to try influence. This whole episode could be avoided if the punks let her sway their tiny minds. Stepping out of the cover of shadows, she took Michael’s hand and walked toward the mouth of the courtyard. As no one looked their way, she hoped they’d get lucky and manage to slink away.

  “Lookie here,” the one with the bottle slurred. “What have we got? A couple of pussies?”

  Damn.

  “Evening, gentleman,” she said in a confident tone imbued with influence. The subliminal message was simple—ignore the uninteresting strangers.

  It worked on the drunk one with the bottle, but the one with the shaking hand was apparently too high and antsy to accept her mental suggestion.

  “Not so fast, bitch. We're not done talking to you.”

  Beside her, Michael tensed and tried to pull his hand out of her grip. She held on. There was still a chance to disarm the situation without anyone getting hurt.

  Kri kept walking, practically dragging Michael behind her, when she heard the unmistakable sound of a gun being cocked.

  “Bitch, I said I was not done talking to you. Come back here and bring your pussy of a boyfriend with you.”

  Okay. With one and two exhausted, it was time for rule number three.

  Chapter 4: Michael

  One of the bastards pulled a gun.

  Michael first instinct was to shove Kri behind him and shield her with his body. Except, he was too slow. While his mind was processing the situation and sending messages to his legs and arms to move, Kri dropped his hand and flew at the group of lowlifes.

  The bastards never knew what hit them.

  With a roundhouse kick, Kri disarmed the guy holding the gun, probably breaking his arm because he dropped to the ground and was howling in pain.

  “What the fuck?” A buddy of his tried to swing at her, only to get dispatched with one powerful punch to the face. His broken nose was bleeding like a geyser.

  Kri grabbed the heads of the third and the fourth, knocking them against each other, then dropped the two unconscious dirtbags where they stood.

  It had taken her no more than a couple of seconds to take down four guys, during which Michael just stood there, paralyzed, watching her in awe.

  “Who’s next?” she paused to taunt.

  He knew what she was doing.

  Kri was giving them a chance to scram, but the idiots were too stupid to realize that they had already lost.

  When another one pulled out a switchblade and flicked it open, Michael got moving, launching himself at the guy.

  “Fuck!’ He heard Kri curse. “Now, why did you have to do this?”

  What the hell? Did she expect him to stand on the sidelines and watch while she took care of business?

  He grabbed the guy by the wrist and twisted it. There was a pop and a snap and the switchblade cluttered to the ground. The scumbag fell to his knees, clutching his broken wrist.

  Satisfied with how quickly he’d disarmed the guy, Michael turned to the next assailant, but he was a split second too late.

  First, there was a burning pain, and then the asshole with the butcher knife got really close and pulled the thing up, slicing Michael open. A moment of confusion followed, and as something warm and sticky saturated his shirt, Michael's foggy brain interpreted the sensation as warm piss.

  Had the guy pissed on him?

  Dimly, he was aware that piss wasn’t supposed to be sticky.

  Then he passed out.

  The blackout must've lasted no longer than a few seconds, because when Michael opened his eyes, he saw Kri deliver an uppercut into the guy’s gut, sending him flying a few feet back
. She followed, delivering a kick that must’ve pulverized the guy’s ribs, either making sure that he was out cold or avenging Michael. In any case, the motherfucker had it coming.

  It got quiet then, and all Michael could hear were Kri’s panting breaths and his own wheezing ones.

  She dropped to her knees beside him. “Let me see.” She pushed his hand aside and grimaced. “That’s a nasty one. I bet it hurts like a son of a bitch.”

  Yeah, it did. But not as much as his pride.

  Kri put his hand back where it was. “Hold it there. The bleeding will stop in a minute or two. You’re lucky to be an immortal. A wound like that could’ve been fatal for a human. He gutted you good.”

  Michael groaned. This was a serious injury. The guy must’ve been either fucking strong or pumped up on drugs to plunge the knife so deep and then drag it up Michael's middle, creating a long cut that had no doubt injured internal organs.

  As he tried to sit up, he had to hold on to Kri so as not to fall back. The loss of blood was making him dizzy, and he knew he needed her help to get up.

  As if he wasn’t feeling like a complete failure already.

  It had been humbling, and quite discouraging, to realize how inadequate he was in a real fight. Evidently, the opinion he had about himself had been grossly overinflated. Compared to Kri’s, his skills were pitiful. She’d taken out seven guys while he’d barely managed one, and what’s worse, he had gotten himself nearly eviscerated in the process. Failing so miserably against untrained humans meant that he'd been deluding himself when he'd thought he could ever take on a Doomer—an immortal with superior strength and training.

  Damn, there was no way he’d be able to get to the car, and asking Kri to carry him was just not going to happen.

  It was painful to talk, but he had no choice in the matter. “I don’t think I can make it back to the parking lot. Could you go get the Hummer and drive over here?” Michael hated how weak he’d sounded.

  “I’m not leaving you here alone and defenseless, not unless I first finish these guys off. Except, even though they are too stupid to live, I don’t want to have it on my conscience.”