“He’s not.”

  “And you know this how?”

  “Rogan’s not a killer.”

  “Fine. Then prove it. And do not give Richard the information. You bring it straight to me.”

  I was going to anyway, but I don’t give my father the satisfaction of the reply.

  “Anything else?” I say snidely.

  “No. I’ll be in touch.”

  I end the call and toss the burner phone onto the bed.

  Rogan stands across the room, staring at me with those penetrating green eyes.

  “Rogan,” I say.

  “What?”

  “I’m going to ask you this once, and I want the truth. As your mate.”

  He walks toward me, sits down on the bed next to me.

  I’m hyperaware of his presence. I need to find out how he healed me, why I’m not in pain, but that will wait.

  “What is it?” he asks.

  “Did you kill those two vampires?”

  29

  Silence.

  Only silence.

  When I’m quite sure Rogan isn’t going to answer my question, he finally opens his mouth.

  “I can’t lie to you, Hannah.”

  Already I know this is serious. He doesn’t often call me by my name. I wait, my lips parted. I wait for him to tell me that no, he did not kill those vamps.

  He did not.

  Except—

  “I did.”

  “You did what?” I gulp out.

  “The teeth marks are mine.”

  Yes. I already know that. We’ve proved that. But I thought… I hoped…that somehow Rogan had been set up. That someone had a cast of his bite and planted the evidence. Perhaps that’s still the case.

  “I killed them, Hannah. But I had good reason.”

  I curl my hands into fists. “What good reason did you have for murdering two vampires?” I grit out.

  “It wasn’t murder.”

  “You just said⁠—”

  “I said I killed them. I did not murder them. I was defending members of my pack.”

  “Damn it, Rogan, their hearts were cut out. That’s fucking murder.”

  He shakes his head vehemently. “That wasn’t me. I swear it. I killed them, yes, and I had good reason. But I did not cut out their hearts.”

  His eyes are big and round, his irises pulsing as if he’s going to change. He’s not lying, and I know he’s not. I’ve known from the beginning when my father first brought it up. I replay the conversation in my mind.

  “The lycan in question is an alpha named Victor Rogan,” my father says. “He’s been linked to two vamp slayings in the past month.”

  “Linked how?”

  “His bite marks were found on the chests of both corpses.”

  I should probably feel something. Two vampires dead. Despite my paternity, though, I don’t feel a connection to the Brotherhood. “So? Lots of vamps get bitten by weres and live to tell the tale. Lycans are hardly lethal to us.”

  “They are when they literally eat our hearts out.”

  This time I feel something. Chills slither along the back of my neck. “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me. The victims’ hearts were gone, and Rogan’s marks were all over them.”

  “Still circumstantial.”

  “Circumstantial how? You think he attacked them, left them immobile, and then someone else came along and sliced out their hearts?”

  “Why not? The lycans know better than to mess with us.”

  I can’t help a sarcastic chuckle. The lycans know better than to mess with us. That was my thought at the time.

  That was before I met Victor Rogan.

  Victor Rogan is as alpha as they come, and he’ll mess with anyone. Vampire, demon, you name it.

  Rogan is badass.

  But he’s not a murderer.

  I felt it then, and I feel it now.

  And yes, he may have killed, but he’s not a killer.

  I know this as well as I know anything. I feel it in the deepest recesses of my soul.

  If he killed, it was because he had no other choice.

  And it occurs to me…

  Who were these vampires? Why didn’t I get more details from my father?

  Easy enough to answer the second question. I didn’t care at the time. I feel no connection to the Vampire Brotherhood or even to my father.

  Now? I want to know. Not because I care about the vamps in question, but because I care about Rogan. If Rogan felt these vamps had to die, he had a good reason.

  And I’m going to find out what it is.

  “Start talking,” I say to him, “and don’t leave out a single dirty detail.”

  30

  Rogan doesn’t speak at first. I’m not overly surprised. Clearly he’s been lying to me from the beginning.

  But I’m not in any hurry. I have nowhere to go. Hell, I don’t even know where we are. We’re simply in a bedroom.

  So I wait.

  And I wait.

  Seconds pass…and then minutes.

  Until—

  “It’s not what you think,” he finally says.

  “I have no idea what to think. According to my father, your bite marks were all over those two vamps. And⁠—”

  I drop my jaw open.

  “What?” he asks.

  Until this instance I had forgotten my father’s most important words—the words he said to me when he first put me on this assignment.

  I was so taken by Rogan at the sight of him that I forgot.

  “There’s been a threat to the Brotherhood. One of the lycans has allegedly aligned with a demon.”

  My father was talking about Rogan.

  But Rogan can’t be aligned with a demon. He just fought demons for me. He got me the hell out of my stepfather’s lair.

  I consider my father’s words once more. He didn’t say Rogan had aligned himself with all demons, just one.

  And it can’t be my stepfather. Can it?

  “You going to answer me?” Rogan says.

  My mouth is still dropped into an O. I don’t know what to say. He has admitted to killing those two vamps, but he claims he’s not the one who cut their hearts out. Is my father mistaken? Is Rogan not aligned with a demon?

  And if he’s not, why did he kill those two vamps? He claims it was to defend members of his pack. If that’s the truth, why isn’t he telling me?

  “Start talking,” I say.

  “So you’re not going to answer me then. You’re not going to tell me why you had a look on your face like you just figured out the meaning of life.”

  Hardly. “No. I’m not going to tell you anything. I’m not the one who’s done something wrong here. You killed two of my people.”

  He scoffs. “Your people? Since when do you even consider them your people?”

  Rogan has a point.

  “Does it really matter? Does it matter whether they were my people or not? What matters is you killed, Rogan. You killed two people. I don’t care if they were wolves, vampires, humans, or whatever.”

  “What if they were demons?”

  I meet his gaze. His green eyes are blazing with fire.

  “Maybe you should tell me,” I say. “Tell me about all those demons who work for you.”

  “Everyone in Las Vegas has demons on the payroll.”

  “And why might that be?”

  “You already know the answer to that, princess. Demons are great at security.”

  “Not as great as you think. Your penthouse sure wasn’t secure. I was abducted by demons in your walk-in closet.”

  “I’m still not exactly sure how that happened,” he says.

  “Yeah, and I’m just that gullible. Don’t lie to me, Rogan.”

  “I’m not lying, princess.” He curls his hands into fists. “You’re my fucking mate. Do you think I’d put you in danger intentionally? I don’t know how the fuck they got to you, but trust me—as soon as we’re able to return, I’m going to figure it out.”

  “Why the hell aren’t you figuring it out now?”

  “Don’t you think it’s killing me that I can’t? You’re my priority, princess. I can’t leave you, and I certainly can’t take you back to The London. Then there’s the rest of this shit.”

  “What?”

  “Do I have to fucking spell it out for you?” He threads his fingers through his disheveled hair. “You were attacked, Hannah. You were attacked by a demon. Somehow, I was able to get you out of there and heal you. Apparently I have powers I never knew I had.”

  I have to hand it to him. I’m speechless.

  “Understand this, Hannah,” he says, using my name a second time. “My only thought was to get you the hell out of there. To get you to safety. I didn’t care about anything else. If two vampires had been standing in my way, and the only way I could get you to safety was to kill them and cut their hearts out, I would’ve done it. I would’ve done it, no questions asked, and I would’ve never looked back.”

  Speechless again. Emotion roils through me—emotion I don’t even recognize.

  My flesh is on fire, and every cell in my body is burning. Burning…right between my legs.

  But I hold back. No way am I going to hop back in bed with Rogan. Not yet. Not until I get a few answers.

  “Don’t you see?” he says, raking his fingers through his dark hair. “Something’s happening to me. I don’t understand it. But until I do, I⁠—”

  “Stop,” I say through gritted teeth. “Just stop. I appreciate everything you did for me. You got me the hell out of there, and I have no idea what my stepfather planned to do to me. It couldn’t be anything good. Sure, he says he won’t harm me for my mother’s sake, but he’s a demon. And he can figure out a way to harm me without harming my mother. He’s evil. So yeah, you got me out of there. I owe you my life, Rogan. I won’t forget that. Not now, not ever. But that doesn’t change the fact that I need an explanation about those two vamps. If you were defending your pack, I need to know who you were defending, and why.”

  “I will always defend my pack,” he says.

  “Yeah, I get that. You’re a big alpha. You have a loyalty to your pack that I don’t share with regard to my people.”

  He nods.

  “But that doesn’t change the fact that you did kill those vamps.”

  “Did it occur to you, princess, to ask your father who those vamps were?”

  “No, it didn’t occur to me, because I don’t freaking care. I don’t care if two vamps are dead. You know why I’m here. I am bound by my bloodline to obey my king. It sucks, but it is what it is. So the sooner I can find out why you killed those two, and the sooner I report back to Daddy, the sooner this will all be over.”

  “What will all be over?” he demands, his eyes darkening.

  “This.” I gesture around the room, to him, to me. “All of this.”

  “Princess, you want this to be over?”

  I open my mouth to respond, but before I can, his lips are on mine, hard and punishing. And I don’t give a flying fuck about my father, two dead vamps, or Rogan’s alliance with some demon.

  All I care about is this damned kiss.

  31

  God, the kiss.

  Rogan’s kisses.

  Rogan’s passionate and heady kisses.

  He breaks the kiss harshly, so hard that my lips feel like they’ve been stung by a hornet, but in another moment I’m flat on the bed, on my back, and I’m not sure where my clothes went.

  I’m naked, splayed open for his attention, and then his clothes… They’re gone as well.

  He pushes my thighs forward, mounts me, enters me.

  It’s a hard-fought, desperate fuck, and I need it more than I knew.

  “Damn it, princess,” he grits out. “Why do you do this to me? Why do you make me so fucking irrational?”

  I don’t reply. What is there to say? He makes me as irrational as I make him. He continues to pound me, pound me, pound me… Then he lifts my thighs so my knees are hanging over his arms, giving him better access.

  He’s so far inside me now, I feel like he’s touching my heart, my soul.

  But he doesn’t stay there long. He moves out and then back in—thrust, thrust, thrust…

  Faster, faster, faster. Faster than he’s ever fucked me before.

  Other than that hard kiss, there was no foreplay. My nipples are hard, straining for attention, but he has no interest. He seems to be done with my lips as well. Instead, he hovers over me, still fucking me hard, sweat beading on his forehead and dripping down onto mine.

  “Fuck, princess.”

  In a flash, he folds my right thigh over my left so I’m on my side, and he continues to fuck me, hovering over me, pumping into me.

  He grabs one tit, squeezes it, and he slides his other hand over my asshole.

  “I bet it’s tight as heaven in there, princess,” he says.

  I can’t think. No one’s ever taken me there, but if Rogan wants to do it right now, I’m going to let him.

  He seems content to keep fucking me though, and I’m not sure he’s ever lasted this long. His balls slap against me as he continues to pound me hard, pound me fast.

  I’ll be raw when this is over. Raw and sated and euphoric.

  “This,” he says through clenched teeth. “This, Hannah. Is this what you want to be over? This?”

  No. I don’t want this to be over. Does he expect me to answer? My breath is coming in rapid puffs. Talking isn’t possible.

  He smacks one cheek of my ass, and then he withdraws and flips me over onto my stomach. He lifts my hips and then plunges into me once more.

  “This will never be over, Hannah. This will never fucking be over.”

  He leans down, his chest against my back. We’re both so slick with perspiration that he’s sliding against me as if we’re two sardines in a can. He nibbles at my ear as he continues to fuck me.

  “This will never be over,” he says again, this time in a whisper. “Never. Do you hear me, Hannah? This will never fucking be over.”

  He thrusts into me then, harder than before, if that’s even possible. He slides over me so that my hips lower onto the bed. He slows his thrusts slightly, going in deeply and then staying for a few seconds before he pulls out again.

  “Every part of you. Every part of you feels perfect against me. I’ll never be without you, Hannah. This. Will. Never. End.”

  Then with a groan, he finishes, thrusting into me so hard and exploding, and as he contracts inside me, fills me with his semen, something sizzles in my clit. I explode along with him as lightning flashes through me, and every cell of my body sparks with electric current. I’m on fire, a blazing inferno.

  This is no normal climax. This isn’t even a normal Rogan climax.

  This is something new.

  Something magnificent.

  And I know now.

  I know this will never end.

  Rogan pulls out after what seems like an eternity, but instead of snuggling toward me, pulling me into an embrace, he slaps my ass again.

  “If you ever, and I mean ever, say anything about you and I being over, I will spank your ass so hard you won’t be able to sit down for a month."

  So it’s settled then.

  “Victor,”—his given name comes so easily to my lips—“this will someday be over."

  32

  Slap!

  Rogan’s palm comes down on the cheek of my ass.

  Slap!

  Slap! Slap! Slap!

  The sting of his hand on my flesh doesn’t give me pain, doesn’t anger me.

  It roars me to life.

  If you ever, and I mean ever, say anything about you and I being over, I will spank your ass so hard you won’t be able to sit down for a month.

  Oh, yeah…

  He wasn’t kidding.

  This isn’t me. This isn’t Hannah Bates. Hannah Bates doesn’t let a man spank her. Hannah Bates doesn’t let any man punish her.

  But oh my God… This isn’t punishment.

  This is pleasure. Pure and unadulterated pleasure.

  “Have you had enough yet, princess? Because I’m not sure you have.”

  I grasp the comforter in both my hands, and I cringe. My head is buried in a pillow, but still I’m able to speak.

  “No. Not enough.” I squeeze my eyes shut.

  Slap! Slap! Slap!

  “Now, princess?”

  No. I will not let him win this round. “No,” I eke out.

  Another slap, and then another.

  “Your ass is beautiful, princess. Red as a fucking beet. I can do this all day. My hand will never get tired of meeting your soft flesh.”

  “Not. Enough.” I say through clenched teeth.

  He comes down on my ass once more.

  And then another for good measure.

  Until finally⁠—

  “Damn it, princess. Your stubbornness will be the end of you.” He moves off the bed, and the mattress shifts.

  A moment later, something warm covers the cheeks of my ass.

  He’s taking care of me. Taking care of the wound he inflicted with a warm washcloth.

  “Why, princess? Why did you let me do that to you?”

  Why indeed? He’s right about my stubbornness. The idea of him spanking me turned me on, so I gave him what was necessary to achieve it. In truth? I don’t want this to end. I feel things for Rogan I’ve never considered myself capable of feeling.

  Is it love?

  Not that I’d know. But I always considered love to be a soft and gentle thing. This thing with Rogan? It’s not soft or gentle. Sure, he takes care of me when he needs to. He’s being gentle now. But the intensity between us… It’s so far from what I ever considered love might be.

  Does he love me? He claims I’m his mate. But does that even mean love? It’s an urge. An intense desire. But that’s not what love is. That’s chemistry, pure and simple.

  Love is something more.

  Isn’t it?

  “You’re going to send me to an early grave, princess.” He removes the washcloth and begins massaging my ass.

  “What are you doing?” I ask.

 

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