Full Moon Rising (5 page)

"Ireland and Central Australia are two vastly different locations."

Having visited Ireland eight years ago, I could certainly attest to that. I'd never seen so much rain in my life--at least until I'd gotten to Melbourne.

"They were chased out during the race riots of 1795. England was using Australia as a penal colony at the time, but there was plenty of land to be had so that's where they went." I shrugged. "I guess after the chill of Ireland, the heat of Central Australia was a dream."

"At that time, they could have had their pick of locations. Why go to a desert?"

"Who knows?" Not me, that was for sure. Pack history had never been my strong point. But then, they hadn't exactly gone overboard to teach us--after all, why would they bother when they had every intention of kicking us out once we hit adulthood?

Some wolf packs were tolerant of half-breeds. Ours wasn't. The main reason we'd been allowed to survive at all was the fact that our mother was the daughter of the pack's alpha--and had threatened to walk away from the pack if we were sentenced to death.

And yet when we had finally left, it had been as much of a relief for her as it had been for us. She loved us, we both knew that, but she'd made it very clear that she never wanted to see us again.

That decision had hurt--still hurt--and yet I could understand her need to regain a normal pack life. It couldn't have been easy raising pups who were unwanted by everyone but her.

"And the red pack are not lean, as other wolves are?" my grubby vampire asked.

"Mostly, no."

He nodded, his gaze rolling languidly down my body, somehow making me feel like I was drowning in sunshine. Which was a weird sensation to be getting from a creature of the night.

Though, to be honest, vamps generally weren't the ice blocks humans thought them to be. They only got cold if they weren't feeding enough.

I cleared my throat. "I wouldn't do that."

Amusement danced in his dark eyes. "Why not?"

"You know why not."

The amusement touched his lips, and my breath caught somewhere in my throat. Damn, when had dead men become so delicious?

"I wouldn't mind."

Well, actually, neither would I, but I had principles. At least until the moon fever
truly
hit. "You're here to see my flatmate, not me." I hesitated, and frowned. "You said last night someone was trying to kill you. If that's the case, why are you calmly sitting here in my hall?"

"Because they left me for dead. I doubt whether they'd bother going back to see if they succeeded."

"And you are naked and covered in mud because . . . ?"

"I was staked naked to the ground between a mound of mulch and a mound of topsoil."

I stared at him, not sure if he was being serious or not. "You were staked out in a garden center?"

"Apparently so. Luckily for me, they decided not to put a stake through my heart, but were simply content to watch the rising sun burn me."

"Which it obviously didn't."

He smiled again, but this time there was something ferocious about it. "The good thing about being over a few hundred years old is a certain amount of immunity to the sun. Something my attackers obviously didn't know. When dawn rose, I began screaming. They panicked and ran."

Suggesting, perhaps, that the men who'd attacked him were new to the vampire-hunting game. I leaned against the door frame and placed my half-empty plate on the dusty wooden floor. "Why didn't you just take over their minds and run them off that way?"

"I tried. They were blocked." He eyed me for a minute. "Much the same as you are."

I frowned. Rhoan had told me there was a gang of humans cruising the city in search of vamps to hunt down, but I was under the impression they were only teenagers. It was doubtful they'd be strong enough to overwhelm
this
vampire, let alone have developed tough enough mind-shields to keep him out. And while electronic shield technology did exist and did work, it was so expensive very few could afford it.

"Were they young?"

"No. Men, all of them, at least thirty."

That didn't sound good. "Perhaps you'd better go over to the Directorate. If there's a second gang active in the city, they'll need to know."

"I cannot."

"Why? My flatmate might not be back for days, and this really should be reported."

"Rhoan asked me to see him, and only him."

I raised an eyebrow. "I thought you didn't know my flatmate? And if you did, why didn't you ask for him by name last night?"

"Because last night I couldn't actually remember his name, just his address. And I never did say whether I knew him or not."

Typical vampire. I'm sure the half that weren't salesmen were damn lawyers sometime in their lives. "Does that mean you've seen him recently?"

"Yes. Before those men caught and staked me out. That is how I knew this address."

Then maybe this vamp could help me find Rhoan if Jack and the Directorate wouldn't. "When was this?"

He frowned. "I'm not sure."

Damn. "So where did you see him?"

"I can't say."

"Then why did those men feel inclined to stake you out?"

"Something else I can't remember."

"There seems to be an awful lot you can't remember," I muttered, stuck between belief and disbelief.

"A regrettable side effect of being kicked several times in the head."

My gaze traveled to his forehead. There did seem to be shadowing under the mud, which might have meant bruising. "Have you got a name?"

"I have."

A smile twitched my lips. "Can you share it, or is it lost to the fog as well?"

"Quinn O'Conor."

"I'm Riley Jenson."

He leaned forward and held out his hand. I clasped it automatically, which was a stupid thing to do, really. He could have so easily hauled me out of the doorway had he intended me harm.

But the only thing he did was wrap his long, strong fingers around mine and squeeze lightly. And with the heat of his palm burning into mine, it was all too easy to imagine the gentle strength of those fingers sliding across my body, stirring the desire already building deep inside. I swallowed heavily.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Riley Jenson," he added, his voice so soft it seemed to echo inside my head rather than through my ears.

I pulled my hand from his, but clenched my fingers to retain the warmth of his touch. That one reaction made me realize I had better be careful. Until I knew more about him, about what he was really up to, I'd better keep some distance. No matter how much my hormones were suggesting otherwise.

Yet curiosity was still stronger than caution.

"And can you remember what you do for a living?"

He nodded. "I own Evensong Air."

I almost choked. Evensong was the biggest of the three transpacific airlines, and had recently taken over the shuttle service to the space stations. Which made the naked vampire sitting opposite me a multibillionaire.

His face closed over. "Does that alter your opinion of me?"

"Like I've had time to form an opinion?" I grinned, and added, "But if it did, it would only be because I've never fucked a mega,
mega
rich guy before." Though I had certainly fucked your ordinary, everyday, garden-variety millionaire. Still was, in fact.

His laugh sent warm shivers down my spine. "One thing I love about werewolves--they're always forthright when it comes to sex."

"Had a werewolf or two in your time, have you?" Which wouldn't be entirely surprising. He was rich, he was gorgeous, and he was a vampire. They were one of the few races that could actually keep up with a werewolf in moon heat.

"One or two."

He didn't look as if he wanted to elaborate, and I wondered why. I watched him sip his meal for a second, then said, "I thought Evensong was owned by a Frank Harris?"

"He's the director and current face." Quinn shrugged. "Being a vampire has its restrictions. I will always need someone to run the business during the day."

I was betting Frank Harris was kept on a very tight leash, all the same. "So what is a successful businessman doing getting staked out by humans? I would have thought you'd be surrounded by the latest in security gadgets."

He frowned. "I wish I knew. It's most annoying, waking to find oneself staked out and having no idea why."

"I'm guessing it's even more annoying to discover you'd been overwhelmed by mere humans."

"Most definitely."

Amusement flirted with his mouth again, and my heart did the old flip-flop. Time to retreat, before I did something daft--like take this vampire's bait.

"Listen, I have to get ready for work. Would you like a coat or something? The weathermen reckon it's going to rain later."

A sensual smile flirted with his lips. "I appreciate the offer, but vampires do not feel the cold."

"Maybe not, but you're making
me
cold just looking at you." Which was actually the opposite of what was happening, but he didn't need to know that.

He shrugged. "If it makes you feel better, then I shall accept the coat."

I rose and grabbed one of Rhoan's coats from the back of the door. At least Mrs. Russel's heart wouldn't go into overload if she did happen to see him. And as much as I liked pushing the old cow, I doubted whether we'd get another apartment this large or this cheap so close to the city.

After closing the door, I dug through the baskets of clean clothes until I found a suitable skirt and shirt to wear. Once I'd ironed them, I got ready for work. Quinn was still sitting in the hall when I left to walk down to the station.

The train was packed, and, as usual, I spent the entire journey with my nose pinned against the glass, trying to get some fresh air from the cracks between the panels to combat the almost overwhelming scents of humanity, sweat, and perfume.

I squeezed out at Spencer Street Station and walked the block to the green glass building that housed the Directorate. After going through the security scanners, then submitting my hand for print scanning, I took the lift down to the basement levels, stopping at sublevel three. If the ten levels above ground were the public face of the Directorate--the areas that worked mainly by day, receiving the initial reports of crimes by nonhumans, processing the minor offenses, and doing other basic stuff like documenting reports of new vampire risings--then the five below were the heart. They were the area the public knew little about. There we tracked down, and took care of, the nastier stuff--the nonhumans who raped and killed and sucked dry. And we worked twenty-four hours a day, even if the majority of the guardians only hunted at night.

There were only one hundred of us down there, and seventy of those were guardians. The other thirty were officially known as guardian liaisons. We worked mostly on rotating eight-hour shifts, and our duties were basic but far from simple--nothing could ever be considered simple when dealing with vampires. We checked and processed information about the more serious crimes, gave the guardians their assignments once the sun had set, made their reports legible once the night was over, and kept the guardians who were in residence during the daylight hours supplied with food and drink.

Of course, most humans still thought vampires were forced to sleep during the sunlit hours, but that was a fallacy--and one most vampires were more than happy to perpetuate. Sure, most vamps couldn't go out into direct sunlight for fear of being fried, but that didn't mean they were comatose, either. Vamps didn't need to sleep any more than they needed to breathe. If vampires
did
sleep, then it was done either as a leftover habit from their human years, or out of boredom.

I was one of only three females doing the job, and the other two were vamps. Guardians weren't the easiest of folk to deal with, and only those capable of protecting themselves were assigned duty there.

Jack looked up from his computer screen as I walked into the room and gave me another of his toothy grins. "Morning, darlin'."

"Morning, Jack." I stripped off my jacket, plopped down on my seat, and looked into the security scanner. My iris was checked, identity confirmed, and the screen snapped into action. "You been here all night again?"

"What else would an ugly sod like me do?"

I grinned. "I don't know--get a life, maybe?"

"I have a life. It's called the Directorate."

"That's sad. You know that, don't you?"

"I prefer to call it committed."

"As in, should be committed."

He smiled. "Got your report. Nice job."

"Thanks. Any word from Rhoan yet?"

"Not yet." He glanced at his watch. "But it isn't nine, and your flatmate is never on time anyway."

I knew that well enough, and normally it didn't worry me. "Are you going to start a search if he doesn't report in?"

"Not immediately, no."

"Dammit, there's
something
wrong."

"We only have your gut instinct telling us that. And even then, you say it isn't serious. Forgive me, Riley, but if it isn't serious, it isn't enough to blow his mission."