But then, this was South Dakota. There weren’t that many vampires in the entire state. There weren’t even that many humans. Fewer than a million people lived in South Dakota, which was one of the lowest population densities in the country. The majority of South Dakota’s vampires lived or worked right here on Lucas’s ranch. There was a small cluster in Sioux Falls, but they weren’t suspected in the FBI’s missing person case because this Agent Hunter seemed certain her man had gone missing while hanging around in the Badlands, which, by the way, was a good eighty miles from Lucas’s ranch.
Lucas had his main headquarters here because he loved the area. When most people thought of South Dakota, they thought of the crags of Mount Rushmore with its famous presidents, and they figured the whole state looked like that. But his ranch was beautiful and green—during most of the year, anyway. His estate was over a hundred and fifty acres of rolling grasslands and mature trees, with two separate creeks running through it. It wasn’t as green as his native Ireland, of course, but in the centuries he’d been alive, he’d never been anyplace that was. He loved his ranch, though. He loved raising horses, loved riding them through his land and knowing it was his land. He had other houses throughout his territory, some in much bigger cities. But he always came back here. This was home.
And now the FBI was invading his home. He didn’t trust the police; he never had. He’d grown up on the mean streets of Dublin when they were truly mean, and the Garda had never been his friend. That was another thing about South Dakota. They left a man alone. As long as he didn’t do anything to draw their attention his way, the authorities didn’t bother him. He wished he could simply tell this FBI woman to go away, but he couldn’t do that. Regardless of his personal preferences, he was responsible for thousands of vampires throughout his territory, which spanned several states. Anything he did could redound on them in unpleasant ways. So, he would see Agent Hunter, and he’d tell her what he’d already said on the phone. He didn’t know where her brother was. Speaking of which, he found it very suspect that Agent Hunter had never bothered to mention that the man she was looking for was her brother. Did she really think he didn’t have the wherewithal to find out details like that? She had surely done a data search on him. Did she think that he wouldn’t do the same on her?
Granted, his contacts within the FBI weren’t what they’d once been. For years, the vampire community’s best and most secret asset within the Bureau had been Phoebe Micheletti, a former FBI tech and later forensic consultant. Phoebe’s loyalty had been unquestioned because she was a vampire herself. But recent events in Washington, D.C. had shown that perhaps someone should have questioned her more closely. The situation had ended with Phoebe and her longtime mate both dead and the loss of an inside track at the FBI.
But there were still some vampires employed by the Bureau, especially in the technical areas where they could work at night. They might not have the contacts that Phoebe had once enjoyed, but they were still good enough to know that Kathryn Hunter wasn’t here under official FBI auspices. As for discovering that the missing man was her brother, that took his computer guy all of seven minutes to find on the Internet. Thirty minutes more, and Lucas knew all sorts of things about Hunter.
He picked up his cell phone and rang Magda.
“Magda,” she answered immediately. Normally, she used his title to answer when he called, but since she was currently escorting the FBI agent to his office door, she wisely didn’t want to give away that he was the one calling.
“Reach out again to our people in the FBI,” he told her. “See if they’ve got anything more on Kathryn Hunter. Personal stuff. But make sure they’re discreet, Maggie. I don’t want to set anything into motion until I know more.”
“Yes,” she said, the one word clipped and short.
Lucas disconnected, smiling. Magda absolutely hated it when he called her Maggie. Which was why he did it, of course. He heard footsteps a few seconds later, Maggie’s heels and a nearly silent tread that he assumed belonged to Agent Hunter. Nick had been waiting in the hallway for them, and he spoke as soon as the two women were close enough.
“Agent Hunter?” Nicholas said.
“Yes.” The woman’s voice was deeper than expected, sexy. Her voice over the phone had been much more businesslike. It was too much of a difference to be explained away by the idiosyncrasies of phone transmission alone. She probably worked at sounding professional, but as far as he was concerned, she’d only sounded robotic. Maybe he should tell her. Maybe he would.
Out in the hallway, Nicholas could be heard introducing himself, and then the door opened. His lieutenant entered first, which was probably unusual in a human corporate setting. In his experience, the guest would normally be permitted to enter first, followed by their escort. But in Lucas’s world, especially while they were at war with their neighbor, Nicholas would never permit a stranger to approach Lucas directly. And then there was the fact that Kathryn Hunter was FBI. Nicholas had been infected by Lucas’s distrust of police authorities, and so he entered first, with the FBI agent sandwiched between him and Magda, who stood at the door.
Lucas didn’t stand. Why should he? Agent Hunter wasn’t a guest. She was an interloper, an interrogator. And she certainly wasn’t due any respect of position from him. He was far more powerful than she was.
“My lord,” Nicholas said formally, and stepped aside, giving Lucas his first real view of Kathryn Hunter.
Well, well, he thought to himself. Agent Hunter was definitely not what he’d pictured. He’d expected someone who lived up to that robotic phone voice—some sort of Brunhilde with sturdy hips and shoulders to match. What he got was the sexy-voiced version instead. Kathryn Hunter was quite lovely. Or, she would be if she permitted herself. She was tall, nearly six-foot despite those sensible boots. Put her in a pair of lipstick-red, fuck-me heels and she’d definitely top six-foot. Lucas liked tall women. He liked to fuck tall women. Well, okay, he liked to fuck women of pretty much any height. But his favorite fuckable women were tall because he was well over six-foot himself, and he liked to kiss the women he bedded. He especially liked to kiss them while he was inside them, and that was always easier when the parts matched up so nicely.
And speaking of kissing, his personal FBI agent had a mouth to match the voice. Soft, puffy lips that were made for wrapping around a man’s cock, and she was wearing just a hint of pink gloss that she probably considered practical. But it gave her mouth a vulnerable, little-girl-lost look. Not that she was a little girl. Oh, no. Miss FBI was very much all grown up. She was, however, very prim and proper, just like Kofi had said, with her long, blond hair pulled into a high and tight pony tail, and every hair in place. Her figure was slender for the most part, although he suspected her breasts were much fuller than they appeared. She probably wore some sort of sports bra to flatten her natural assets. He supposed it made sense, given her profession, but it only made him more curious to see the real things.
The rest of her body was camouflaged by a boring, dark blue pants suit and a white button-up blouse that was definitely buttoned up . . . all the way to her neck. His fingers itched to twitch open that top button and reveal her delicate neck. Actually, they twitched to do a lot more than that, but he’d settle for that top button. No woman should ever be that buttoned up.
Slender hips, long legs . . . his perusal traveled back to her face and a pair of dark blue eyes that were regarding him with something short of a friendly look.
He grinned unapologetically. “Agent Hunter,” he said, without rising.
Her jaw tightened, but she stepped forward and reached across his desk to offer her hand. “Special Agent Kathryn Hunter,” she said, aiming for crisp, but that bedroom voice of hers wasn’t made for it.
Lucas stood slowly and took her hand in his. It put her at a disadvantage, because she’d stretched across the desk to reach him. She was now left leaning forward while he stood straight, holding her in place by virtue of their joined hands. Lucas ma
de no attempt to alleviate the uncomfortable position. He kept his gaze steady as he wrapped his fingers around hers, catching the slight flair of concern in her eyes as she quickly rebalanced.
“Lucas Donlon,” he said smoothly, still grasping her hand. “And you’ve met my lieutenant, Nicholas. How can I help you, Special Agent?”
Hunter immediately tried to take her hand back, but Lucas wasn’t ready to let her go, and she clearly wasn’t willing to force the issue by jerking her hand away from him. She was aware of him, though. A slight flush lit her cheeks, and it was more than just embarrassment or even anger. Her pupils were dilated, and her heartbeat had just kicked up a notch.
He released her hand with a wink. She took a step back from the desk at once, putting distance between them. She didn’t wipe her hand on her pants leg, but he could tell she wanted to. Kathryn Hunter was clearly used to denying her more feminine urges. She probably had to, working where she did. But Lucas was a vampire lord. When he touched a woman, she knew she’d been touched, and, in this case, desired.
And Kathryn Hunter didn’t like being reminded of that.
* * * *
Kathryn found herself staring. If everything she’d seen so far in the vampire’s headquarters had surprised her, Lucas Donlon himself was the final stunner. And that was the right word, too. Because he was one of the best looking men she’d ever seen. He had straight black hair that wasn’t long so much as it looked in need of a trim. It touched his collar in back and threatened to drop over his forehead in front. He didn’t bother to stand up, the ass, but lounged back in his chair like some sort of bad boy making a point. Still, she could see he’d be tall and well built. Not as thickly muscled as his bodyguard, or whatever Nicholas was, but his shoulders were wide and appeared well-muscled beneath the leather jacket he wore over a black T-shirt. She met his eyes briefly. They were hazel, she supposed, but the brown had so much gold in it, they almost defied classification. And they were scanning her from head to toe, lingering in all the inappropriate places. She waited until his perusal finally made it back to her face, then gave him her most frigid stare.
He grinned in response, and some deeply buried feminine part of her shivered at the sight. Kathryn steeled herself against it.
“Agent Hunter,” he said lazily, still not bothering to stand.
Kathryn suppressed the urge to tighten her jaw in irritation. She leaned across the desk and offered her hand. “Special Agent Kathryn Hunter,” she said, meeting his arrogant gaze.
He remained seated, but his big hand closed over hers, his fingers hard and a little rough, as if he did more than sit behind this desk all night long. He stood then, uncoiling a tall, well-muscled body with a grace that only emphasized his looks and strength. Kathryn almost groaned. The black T-shirt was tucked into a pair of faded denims that showcased his flat belly and clung to his narrow hips like a lover’s caress.
His standing unbalanced her, and she gripped his hand tightly before looking up and meeting his eyes for an awkward moment. She steadied quickly enough and tried to give his hand only a perfunctory shake, but he didn’t release her. Her heart slammed against her ribs, and she cursed her body’s instinctive reaction to his overwhelming masculinity.
This shouldn’t be happening. Kathryn worked in a man’s world where women were still barely tolerated by too many. SAC Fielding was only one example of the misconceptions and resentment she faced all the time. She’d long ago come to grips with the fact that in order to succeed, she’d have to set aside her femininity and be simply one more agent, since she would never be one of the guys. She wore no makeup other than a touch of nearly clear lip gloss to keep her lips from drying out completely, and while she couldn’t bring herself to cut her long hair, she always wore it pulled away from her face, either in a French braid or a ponytail so severe she didn’t think she’d ever need a facelift.
But somehow Lucas Donlon had broken through all of those precautions with nothing more than a look and a handshake. He’d managed to awaken feelings and desires buried so deeply that she’d all but forgotten she ever had them. And she wanted them left buried. This was her job, her career. This was what she did with her life, and she wasn’t going to let some handsome vampire or anyone else shatter her carefully won reserve.
“Lucas Donlon,” he was saying, “And you’ve met my lieutenant, Nicholas. How can I help you, Special Agent?”
Kathryn thought of all sorts of things she’d like to say to him, most of which involved sharp, pointed objects drilling into his heart. But she reined in her temper and forced herself to back a couple of steps away from the desk, telling her heart to stop acting like such a fool.
“As I explained on the phone, Mister Donlon—”
“Lucas,” he said easily. “And do sit down . . . Kathryn.” He slouched back into his own chair like a big, graceful cat, and regarded her over steepled fingers.
Kathryn sat, using the motion to conceal her irritation at his familiar use of her first name. She considered correcting him, reminding him of her title and that she represented the FBI. Except she didn’t in this case, not really. That thought shocked her back to the matter at hand. She had ten days to find her brother, ten days before her bosses would expect her back on the job. She didn’t have time to waste bandying words with Lucas Donlon. Besides, she had a feeling it would only encourage him if she insisted on her proper title.
“As I explained on the phone, Mister—” Donlon raised one eyebrow, and she switched words mid-syllable. “Lucas. I’m looking for a photographer who went missing after completing a shoot in BadlandsNational Park.”
“There are several towns closer to the park than we are.”
“I’m aware of that. But he was staying very near here, and this area is where he was last seen.”
“And how does this relate to me . . . Kathryn?”
Kathryn blinked. He was actively flirting with her, although flirting was too tame a word for anything Lucas Donlon did. And damn it, her body wanted to respond to the seduction in that deep voice, to the crooning way he kept repeating her name. Kathryn bit her tongue, letting the sharp pain redirect her senses. She didn’t have time for his games. She needed to find Daniel.
“Daniel Hunter is the man who’s missing. An eyewitness places him at a local nightclub.”
“We’ve quite a few of those in the surrounding area, as well.”
“Yes, but this particular club, according to my sources, is owned and run by vampires.”
Donlon lifted his eyes, looking over her shoulder at his lieutenant, Nicholas. The exchange was silent, but it told her he hadn’t expected that particular piece of evidence.
“A blood house,” he said, returning his gaze to her.
Kathryn blinked at him. “I’m sorry?”
He smiled briefly and repeated, “A blood house. The club you’re referring to is called a blood house. That’s not its name, but that’s what it is. It’s where humans go to . . . mingle with vampires.”
“Mingle,” Kathryn said softly. “You mean—”
“Many humans are fascinated by the vampire . . . culture, shall we say. They go to blood houses to flirt with what they see as the darker side of humanity. And they give blood, of course.”
Kathryn frowned. “Give blood. You mean from their own veins?”
Donlon laughed. “Don’t look so shocked, Kathryn. It’s a very pleasurable experience for all involved.”
“Are you telling me people go to these places and let vampires bite them?”
“Yes, indeed.”
“But that’s . . .” She was about to say revolting, but thought better of it given current company.
Donlon grinned as if he knew anyway. “Don’t knock it ’til you’ve tried it. And you will,” he added with a slow, smoldering look.
Kathryn felt her lips pinch with irritation and forced her face to resume a bland expression. He had a way of goading her completely out of her comfort zone.
“In any event,” she said b
riskly, “while I can’t imagine Daniel enjoying something like that, he always has been an adventurer, so it’s possible he—”
“Daniel?” Donlon said, catching her slip. “So, the last name isn’t merely a coincidence. A husband? Brother? It’s unlikely that he’s old enough to be your father.”
“How do you know how old he is?” she demanded at once.
Donlon shrugged, unconcerned. “I don’t. But I can certainly guess at how old you are, and extrapolate how old your father would have to be. My manager at that club is very careful about whom he lets in. And a man old enough to be your father would never pass muster. Too dangerous.”
“Dangerous for whom?”
“The older man, love. As I said, having a vampire drink from you is very enjoyable. Not everyone’s heart can handle it.”
“Lovely,” she muttered.
“Indeed,” he agreed, not at all put off. “But as to your missing . . .”
“Brother,” she supplied. There was little point in trying to conceal it. Sutcliffe knew, and she suspected Donlon knew, too. Despite his little games, she found it unlikely the efficient Magda would have let her get this far without checking out every aspect of her purpose in being here.
“Your missing brother, yes. I don’t often visit the blood houses, but the vampires on my staff do frequent that particular one, among others. If you have a photograph of your brother, I’d be happy to show it around and ask if anyone saw anything.”
“I’d rather check it out myself,” Kathryn countered. “If I could have your club manager’s name and those of any vampires who visit the club regularly . . .” She took out her notepad and pen, prepared to write names.
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