"Yes, I wouldn't have wanted him to stumble on it by himself and wonder why I kept quiet."

"If we do manage to track down Sandor, though," she said, "we can't turn him over to the authorities, can we?"

"Unfortunately not. Exposing him could expose all the rest of us." Volnar's orders weighed heavily upon him. "I have to eliminate him without giving away the existence of our kind-and I don't know how."

Saving the file and switching off the computer, Britt winced in discomfort as she leaned back in the hard chair. Roger stood behind her, hands on her shoulders, thumbs at the base of her neck. "Let me help." She relaxed into his slow, rhythmic ma.s.sage, accompanied by just enough psychic influence to drain the ache from her muscles.

She let her head droop back, resting against his midriff. "Nice," she murmured. "If you could bottle this stuff, the makers of prostaglandin inhibitors would go bankrupt. This is a form of hypnosis, too, isn't it-the way you touch people?"

"Yes." His hands wandered from her shoulders to her upper chest. "Except I've never touched anyone else as-intimately-as I touched you last night."

"And you better not!" Her eyes drifted shut. "Are you trying to seduce me or put me to sleep?"

His breathing irregular from the contact with her, he said, "I haven't decided. Which would you prefer?"

"Depends. Are we ready to knock off for the night?"

"We'd better. You're extremely distracting, colleague."

She rubbed her head against him. "I didn't mean to be."

"In your present condition, you can't help it."

"What condition?" She stood up and began putting away the file folders.

"Haven't you noticed how diligently I avoided you at this point in your cycle last month?"

Turning to face him, she blushed, though her eyes held steady on his. "Why, no, I didn't make the connection. You mean every month you'll know exactly when-?"

"Of course." He clasped her hands. "Forget the files until tomorrow; they aren't going anywhere. You're still in pain, and I want to ease it for you."

"Just backache, cramps, the usual. Did you have something more than a ma.s.sage in mind?" Freeing her hands, she wrapped her arms around his waist.

His voice rough with leashed desire, he said, "I understand many women gain relief from those symptoms through o.r.g.a.s.m."

"Well, it's certainly worth an experiment," she said, her teasing smile erasing the fatigue lines around her mouth. "But-well-it would be kind of messy."

"You think I care?" He could barely restrain himself from sweeping her into his arms and carrying her to bed.

"Most men would." "Then they're taboo-obsessed jerks." He nuzzled her neck. "Please-you're dealing with a desperate man here."

"Then what are we waiting for?"

Upstairs she insisted on spreading a bath towel on the bed before she would undress and lie down. "I wouldn't think of ruining your satin sheets. Colleague, you really want to-?"

Removing the last of his clothes, Roger sat beside her, bridling his eagerness. "Does that repel you?"

"Not at all. It's just so different from the typical male reaction." With a husky laugh, she opened her arms to him. "Well, if you were a typical man, I wouldn't be here."

He foraged over her body with delicate caresses of fingers and tongue, working his way downward with exquisite deliberation, until she moaned aloud with impatience. When he had her writhing with unrestrained pa.s.sion, he urged her to her first climax before claiming his reward. Although the taste differed from the blood that flowed in her veins, it was redolent of her pa.s.sion and satisfied him just as fully.

After her second o.r.g.a.s.m she gasped out a question about the soundproofing of the walls. When he a.s.sured her, "Completely reliable," her moans segued into screams.

BRITT STAYED all of Friday and Sat.u.r.day night and a few hours of Sunday night, going home each day. The harmony between her determination to maintain her independence and Roger's lingering need for privacy while he slept pleased him. His rational self rejoiced that they could bask in their mutual pa.s.sion without chaining each other. The less calculating half of his mind gibbered with fear whenever Britt was out of his sight. He took care to restrain that overprotective impulse in her presence.

After she left Sunday night, he received a shock when he played back the day's messages on his answering machine. Following two calls from telephone solicitors, he heard a voice that he knew and loathed all too well: "Doc, you're probably wondering when I'll come after that woman of yours. I will, and don't you forget it, but not any time soon. I'm giving you plenty of chance to-" A blip in the tape, a few seconds of silence, and the same voice resumed: "You're about to find out how it feels to be hunted."

Chapter 16

AFTER SOME hesitation Roger told Britt about Sandor's phone message. Recalling what he'd learned about intimacy with a vampire enhancing the human donor's psychic gifts, he recognized that already Britt was beginning to read his emotions with an accuracy greater than chance. He couldn't lie to her, for whenever she sensed him holding anything back, she pounced on it.

"As you mentioned before, we can't report incidents like that to the police, so we're on our own," said Britt the next Sat.u.r.day morning as they shared breakfast in his dining room. Or, more accurately, she was eating while he watched. She sliced off a corner of her cheese omelette and transferred it to a small plate for Roger. "Do you think you could kill him? Last time, you hesitated."

"And now he's targeted you. Next time, I won't hold back."

"That message he left gives me an idea." She chewed thoughtfully, staring at the opposite wall with a look in her eyes that worried Roger.

"What it tells me is that you've got to be more careful. At least let me pick you up instead of driving over here at night by yourself."

"Don't start that again," she said with an impatient wave of her fork. "If anything, I should go out alone more often, try to decoy him into the open."

"What?" He reached across the table to grip her hand. "Don't even think of that!"

She tugged until he released her. "Stop telling me what to do. Be logical, colleague. Is it better to wait around for him to attack, or set up a confrontation on our own terms?"

"Even a.s.suming he'd fall for an obvious decoy setup," Roger said, "you can't do it because it wouldn't work without my cooperation. And you won't get it."

With a sigh she said, "Oh, all right, I won't try to blackmail you into cooperating."

"And give me your word that you won't try some hare-brained plot on your own."

"I promise-no suicide missions."

Roger took an unenthusiastic nibble of the omelette. "The h.e.l.l of it is, he intends to work on our nerves with this waiting game, and it's succeeding. We haven't heard of anything that could be attributed to him all week."

Britt nodded agreement. "And if you think I'll give him the pleasure of knowing he's succeeded, by creeping around afraid of shadows, forget it. And I'd still like to know where he gets his meals between murders."

Britt had spent Wednesday evening digging through newspaper back issues again. She'd reported only a couple of dubious deaths that might fit the specifications. "No doubt he's more discreet than we gave him credit for," said Roger. "Don't give up on your idea of flagging reports of weird phenomena, too."

"I haven't," she said. "If I come across any, you'll be the first to know. Must we talk about this all the time? What do you think about getting tickets to the Colonial Players' performance ofPygmalion next weekend?"

Roger's pleasure at the thought of Liza Doolittle and Henry Higgins quickly yielded to anxiety. "I don't know whether going out at night would be wise. We can be sure he's watching you-"

Britt leaped to her feet and flung her napkin down on the table. "There you go again! I will not put up with this! I have no intention of living the rest of my life under house arrest!"

Roger hurried around the table to grab her by the arms. She stiffened and shoved at him. He let go, appalled at his own roughness.

"Confound it, Britt, I don't want that! I'm simply asking you to exercise ordinary caution." Unmollified, she glared at him, her chest heaving. "It's more than that-and I want it nipped in the bud right now. You do not own me."

Did his concern come across that way? "I could never think that. If I've given that impression, forgive me." He noted a slight relaxation of the tight line of her lips. "If you want to go to the play, we'll go." Relenting, Britt nestled into his embrace. Lavishing kisses on her, he thought,This can't go on. How much of this can our relationship stand?

THE NEXT MURDER victim discovered was a thirty-six-year-old real estate agent in Glen Burnie, up Route Two near Baltimore.

Her husband had called hospitals and police, worried when she hadn't come home after showing a house one evening. The woman's body turned up the next morning in a dumpster behind a Seven-Eleven. Her car had vanished. According to Lieutenant Hayes, so had her automatic teller card, which had been used to withdraw the maximum allowable cash within a few hours of her death.Devious b.a.s.t.a.r.d , Roger thought.Must have hypnotized her PIN out of her before he drained her.

The same day, Roger received a letter in a plain white envelope, no return address, postmarked Washington. With no salutation, date, or signature, it read, "How do you like the waiting? How does it feel to wake up every day wondering if I've taken somebody close to you again? Don't worry, I'll get back to that-when I'm good and ready. Don't know about you, Doc, but I'm having a great time. After I've had my fun, we'll get together."

True to his vow of honesty, Roger showed the note to Britt before destroying it. They discussed it in the car Friday night on the way home to Roger's place after thePygmalion performance. "What do you think he means by 'get together'?" she mused. "A final confrontation, winner take all? Or does he still think he can persuade you to join him?"

"Does it matter?" Roger said. "If I meet him again, I'll do my best to destroy him." That resolve still held a dreamlike quality. Roger couldn't visualize himself committing premeditated homicide, even in a just cause.

When he parked the car and opened the door for Britt, his eyes involuntarily flickered toward the woods behind the house. No hint of movement, no p.r.i.c.kling sensation of being watched. Checking for those signs had become automatic.

Inside, he scarcely gave Britt time to hang up her coat before drawing her into his arms. "Standing up in the foyer?" she murmured, molding her body to his.

"Certainly not." He rubbed his cheek against her hair, savoring its fragrance. "I just need to hold you for a minute." He released his pent-up anxiety in a long sigh. Her blood-heat and the glow of her aura soothed and refreshed him. "Oh, G.o.d, you feel sogood. I wait all week for this."

"It feels great to me, too." She rubbed her hands up and down his back. "This weekend-only restriction was your idea. I'd love to-"

"Absolutely not." Reluctantly he pulled out of her embrace. "If I didn't put some restrictions on myself, I'd never be able to keep my hands-et cetera-off you. Come sit down for a while."

He poured sherry for both of them and left Britt in the living room while he detoured into the study for a velvet-covered box he'd picked up at a jeweler's that afternoon. Her eyebrows arched in surprise when he placed the box in her hand. "What's the occasion?"

"Must there be one? Open it."

She flipped up the lid. Her eyes widened at the sight of the gold chain from which hung a cross set with emeralds. She lifted the necklace out of its box and let it dangle from her fingers, glittering in the muted glow of the lamp at the end of the couch.

"Colleague, you make me feel like a kept woman." She wasn't entirely joking.

"No one could mistake a successful psychiatrist for a kept woman." He took the delicate chain from her. "Allow me." She gazed down at the necklace as he fastened it around her neck. "Seriously, Roger, expensive gifts make me uncomfortable."

"It's part of a long-term strategy," he said, hoping to lighten her mood. "Next I intend to take you shopping to replace that rattletrap you drive."

She flashed a smile. "It's a deal. But this is a whole different order of-" She fingered the cross. "Real emeralds."

"Certainly. To match your eyes, nothing less." He cut her off before she could protest the compliment. "Dear colleague, I enjoy giving you things. Why deny me the pleasure? Besides, this has a practical purpose."

"A jeweled cross? I can't wait to hear it."

"I'm hoping this is one form of protection you'll accept."

"Oh-I think I see."

"Yes," he said. "You saw how Sandor feared my crucifix-feared it so much that it burned his skin. If you'll promise to wear this at all times, I'll worry about you a little less."

"Fine. Anything to mitigate your worrywart tendencies." She kissed him lightly, drawing back before he could deepen the embrace.

"Now, how about some more biofeedback practice?"

Britt had proved an apt pupil in controlling her autonomic functions, and she never pa.s.sed up an opportunity for drill in the technique. "Are you sure you aren't too tired?" Roger said.

"Nice try. Do you expect me to believe that if we went to bed, you'd let me sleep?"

He blushed at her teasing. He knew she sensed his eagerness to drink from her, after abstaining all week. "All right, let's practice."

Britt slipped off the couch to lie face up on the carpet, her arms limp at her sides. She closed her eyes and took long, deep breaths.

Sitting beside her on the floor, Roger lightly touched the center of her forehead. He slowly counted backward from ten. By the time he reached "one," she had sunk into trance.

He dropped his voice almost to a whisper. "Britt, I want you to decrease your heart rate by ten beats per minute. Begin now." He silently counted seconds until she'd carried out the command. In less than fifteen seconds she had reached the goal. "Excellent.

Now, concentrate on your left hand. Drop the surface temperature of the skin. Very good." He saw her left hand turning paler by the second. Touching her fingers, he felt their coolness, compared to the rest of her body. "That's right. Now I want you to dilate the capillaries and make your hand warm up again."

Watching the immediate result of his suggestion, he marveled at how quickly she'd picked up these techniques. He wondered whether she could learn to suppress pain and bleeding, as he did. He hadn't thought of a way to instruct her in that skill, since he certainly couldn't inflict pain on her for didactic purposes. After they'd run through several more exercises, he counted up to ten to bring her out of the alpha state to normal consciousness.

She sat up and stretched her arms, wiggling her fingers. "I can't get over how great I feel after these sessions." She remembered every detail of the training; Roger kept his word never to blur her memory. "I just wish I could do half so well when I'm fully awake."

"That will come with practice," Roger said. He sat back against the couch, putting an arm around her, and she laid her head on his shoulder.

"What I really want to learn is your empathic perception. Think how much more efficiently I could treat my patients if I could read emotions the way you do."

"We'd have to work on that in public, around other people," said Roger. "I'm not sure how we'd manage it." "You'll think of something."

"One thing we do have to practice in crowds, no matter what the difficulties," he said. "You must develop enough clairvoyance to know when you're being watched-for your own protection. Fortunately, that's something most people have a touch of anyway."

"But not like you," she said wistfully. "You know, I could really start envying those powers of yours. Invisibility must be a terrific a.s.set sometimes."

She'd been awestruck when he'd demonstrated his ability to cast a psychic veil over himself. "I wouldn't know," he said, nuzzling the tender spot behind her ear. "I've hardly ever used it in any practical context."

"Stop that," she said. "I've just thought of something." She cupped the emerald cross in the palm of her right hand and touched his lips with the index finger of her left hand. "Draw some blood for me."

His tongue flicked her finger. "I beg your pardon?"

"Unless you want me to go get a sterilized needle. Look, this psychic link between us is a real ent.i.ty in some sense, isn't it? I want to-well, objectify it."