"You kept your whereabouts a secret and lied to me. That doesn't say much for commitment."

"That's different."

"Is it?"

Duh. Esther's afterlife was at stake and I'd been lying and withholding for a good cause. Didn't he get that?

Hurt flashed in his gaze.

Obviously not.

Heat crept up my neck and my heart hitched, and like all vampires in denial, I switched from defense to offense. "Let's be honest. My lying isn't the real issue here. It's you-"

"Don't do this," he warned. "It's not the time or the place."

As if I didn't know that.

But I was sick of worrying and wondering and feeling so incredibly helpless. It was time to do something. If I couldn't find Esther or reconcile Nina and Rob, I could at least satisfy my own curiosity.

He loves me, he loves me not?

I felt as if I'd spent my entire afterlife standing on the outside. I was an outsider. A vampire in a human world. A vampire who sorta, kinda, occasionally thought about what it would be like to be human. I couldn't help myself. I wanted to know what it felt like to bask on a beach and shop during the daytime and eat a chocolate fudge brownie and fall in love.

I wanted to know what it felt like to be loved.

And if Ty couldn't give me that, I needed to know.

"You're a commitment-phobe." There. I'd said it. Now the burden of proof was on him.

Come on, I silently begged. Drop to one knee and tell me how wrong I am. Tell me that you love me and that I'm the only vampire in the world for you.

His eyes narrowed to tiny slits and the muscle in his right jaw started a frantic tick. "What did you just say?"

I summoned my courage. "You heard me. I said you're a commitment-phobe."

"I'm a commitment-phobe? You won't even introduce me to your mother."

I bristled. "I'm waiting for the right time."

"As in never."

"As in I want to be one hundred percent sure that you're not just using me for a little fun."

"Babe, there's nothing fun about being with you. Trust me, it's work. Hard f.u.c.king work."

The urge to smack him was sudden and fierce. At the same time, I feared my hand coming into contact with his handsome face and rough skin and, well, I am a creature of s.e.xual habit. I ignored the thought and focused on my righteous anger. "What is it with you? Why can't you just tell me what you're feeling?"

"I'll do you one better. I'll show you." To prove his point, he dipped his head. His mouth captured mine and his tongue pushed deep.

My hands snaked around his neck and my fingers plunged into the silky thickness of his hair.

What? The man could kiss.

He pulled me close, his hands dragging down my spine to cup my a.s.s and fit my pelvis more closely to his. Our bodies melded together for several fast, furious heartbeats before he pulled away.

"That's l.u.s.t, not love," I heard myself say.

"All that bottled blood is finally getting to you. You're obviously losing it."

Why was it when you said something a guy didn't want to hear, he immediately countered by telling you what a loony bee- yotch you were? "I'm not crazy. I'm realistic. And you're a commitment-phobe," I said again. "P-H-O-B-E."

He shrugged. "I just don't think we need to draw any unnecessary attention to our relationship. The more low-key we keep things, the easier it will be to stay off Logan's radar." I knew this and I also knew that he felt like he was protecting me. At the same time, I couldn't help but think that maybe, just maybe, he didn't fear Logan so much as he feared himself.

Maybe Logan was just an excuse for the fact that deep down, Ty was no different from every other made vampire out there.

Maybe he was just interested in s.e.x.

And maybe I was a crazy bee-yotch because as much as I knew I should shut my mouth and stop trying to p.i.s.s him off, I couldn't help myself. "It's you. You're scared to love me."

"I'm not scared."

"Then prove it. Tell me you love me."

"I'm here trying to save your a.s.s. Isn't that enough?"

"Just say it."

He eyed me for a long moment. "And if I can't?"

"Then I can't do this anymore."

His expression went dark and thunderous and he looked ready to hit something. Or maybe kiss me again.

I vote for number two.

"Suit yourself," he growled, and then he was gone.

I listened to the flutter of wings and barely resisted the urge to go after him. But I 'd made a promise to myself. No more l.u.s.t over love. No more dead-end relationships. No more.

And I wasn't breaking that promise.

If Ty couldn't say the one word I'd waited an eternity to hear, then we had no future together.

I fought back a wave of hot tears and tried to convince myself that I was one lucky vamp. After all, I'd seen his true colors now instead of later and avoided a useless waste of time.

Yay me.

C alling it quits with Ty turned out to be a bad omen of things to come.

As in twelve more rounds of Truth or Dare, eight games of Bunko, ten reruns of What Not to Wear and five solid days without so much as a glimpse of Mordred.

Yep, I was this close to crawling into a tanning bed and nuking myself. My aunt Sophie had gone that route with a unit she 'd bought from QVC and it hadn't been pretty.

Hence the only reason I kept my distance from the Lucky Charm Tanning Salon, Lonely Fork's one and only fake-and-bake mecca.

A nice, clean death via stake I could handle. My folks could still have an open casket. Ty could cry a river and moon over my lifeless, but still perfect bod. I could still wear my favorite French couture. Maybe even a pair of kick-a.s.s stilettos.

But being splattered in a million different pieces with nothing but my last pic (a photo from this past year 's Marchette family reunion, where I'd been stuck dancing with my cousin Milton, who'd had his fangs ripped out by an overzealous SOB who'd wanted to make a little side profit by selling them on eBay)?

Pa.s.s.

The only pair of Manolos in a store full of Pay-less? I'd finally convinced my mother that all the Yaz in the world wouldn't keep the inevitable from happening. The only way to prevent Mandy from popping out a human baby was to get her to change her mind about motherhood altogether. Who better to do that than a roomful of women who'd been there, done that?

Enter a dozen members of my mother's Connecticut Huntress Club (half of which, to my utter delight, were now single). One phone call and they'd rushed to my mother's aid in a show of female vamp solidarity. That, and my mother had promised them unlimited refreshments, free pedicures and the chance to win her custom one-of-a-kind Verner Pan-ton rug (to be auctioned off on the last day of the retreat). They had over eighty-eight children between them and plenty of horror stories to scare the cooties out of my trusting sister-in-law.

"... so I told him, Pierre, you can't drown the maid in the Jacuzzi. If you want to get rid of her, chop her up and stash her in the crawl s.p.a.ce like every other serial killer."

A collective murmur of agreement went through the group of tastefully dressed BVs that filled LuLu's Nails.

My mother had handed over her credit card for a full night of beauty. With the promise of a forty percent gratuity, DoraLee had happily opened up shop and called in every nail tech on staff. Each chair was full. Every nail file buzzed, every footbath bubbled.

The place reeked of paraffin wax, nail polish remover, foamy lavender footbath and romance.

Did I mention that I'd invited DeWalt to mix and mingle with the ladies?

He was currently getting matching pedis with Veronique Chatois, a real estate mogul who owned half of Connecticut.

Veronique had lost her husband when his plane had crashed in the desert and he hadn't been able to find proper shelter before the sun had turned him into a piece of extra-crispy. She wasn't interested in more kids (Pierre was her youngest and scary enough to turn even a vampire celibate), but she did love to ride horses.

Hey, it was a start.

"... one minute I'm sitting in the hot tub, relaxing my muscles, and the next I 've got a dead body floating next to me. Which wasn't a problem in itself. Georges was always crawling into the hot tub with me and he'd been dead for six hundred years. But this thing was bloated and bobbing and wearing a plastic shower curtain."

"I always wear Chanel in the hot tub, myself, " offered Brigitte Gaston, who sat nearby, her tips being refilled by an overenthusiastic twenty-something (did I mention the forty percent gratuity?).

"Me, too," offered another vamp.

"I prefer Contessa or Bill Bla.s.s, myself."

"I didn't know Bla.s.s did swimsuits ..."

"Did he really stuff a body in your crawl s.p.a.ce?" The question came from a very pale-looking Mandy. She sat in the far corner, getting her feet pumiced.

The entire room murmured agreement and Mandy turned an even lighter shade.

I gave her a wink and an encouraging smile and she seemed to relax a little.

"You want appliques?" DoraLee drew my attention as she finished pushing back the cuticles on my pinky. "I've got cowboy hats. Flowers. Or if you're a sports fan, I could do you up with some Dallas Cowboys stars. Or these little spurs."

"Just a clear coat of polish and I'll be good to go." It was ten P.M. and I was late for my nightly stakeout at the Quick Pick.

For lack of a better lead (I'd talked to everybody old enough to remember the sorcerer, namely one ancient-looking biology teacher who'd informed me that the only place he remembered seeing Mordred was in high school detention), I'd been keeping an eye on the convenience store.

Obviously, he wasn't a chain smoker because he hadn't been back. I was counting on the fact that he wanted to keep a low profile (he hadn't aged a day, which wouldn't have been the easiest thing to explain to the few people who remembered him), so I'd ruled out him stopping off for cigarettes during the day.

He'd be back, and when he showed up, I would be there.

And I wouldn't get ambushed this time.

I finished drying my nails and pushed to my feet. I whispered a quick "They're all a bunch of crazy vampires" to Mandy and a "Remember the Chanel booties and the Rebecca Taylor Onesies" to Nina, who was getting a little freaked herself what with all the talk of serial vampires and dead maids and ungrateful daughters who refused to settle down and procreate the species. Guess who?

I spared a quick glance at DeWalt, who was having his first threesome (pull your mind out of the gutter, already) with Veronique talking one ear off and Brigitte gabbing in the other, and then am-scrayed on the pretense of making a beverage run.

A few minutes later, I flapped my way into a tree across the street from the Quick Pick and perched on a small branch. My infrared vision did a sweep of the area and came up with zilch. I tamped down my disappointment and settled in to watch.

Two hours crept by and my wings started to get tired. What? I'd been at it five nights straight. I soared to the ground, closed my eyes, focused on my heartbeat and did a quick shift back to megalicious vampire.

I stretched my legs and did a little shake and shimmy to get the kinks out. Much better. I walked a few paces back and forth and was just about to go back undercover when I heard the familiar voice.

"I told you that was her." The comment came from the driver of a navy blue Ford Taurus parked midway up the street.

My ultra-night vision zeroed in on Cheap, who sat behind the wheel, a pair of binoculars glued to his eyes.

"How was I supposed to know?" Cheaper sat in the pa.s.senger seat and munched a bag of pretzels. "It could have been any bat." "How many pink bats do you see flying around here?" Cheap set the binoculars aside, grabbed a small case sitting on the dash and climbed out of the car. His partner followed.

I could morph and get the h.e.l.l out of there. Now. But the store was closing in less than ten minutes and my ma would kill me if I came back empty-handed.

Making a beeline for the front gla.s.s door, I zoomed across the street. They barely made two steps before I reached the store.

Inside, I grabbed a six-pack of Red Bull, a few bags of Doritos for Mandy and several boxes of wine.

No, really. An actual box.

I dumped everything on the counter, signed my Visa slip (complete with a tip to cover the toothbrush I 'd swiped during the Mordred sighting) and grabbed my bags. I was just walking out of the store when Merlin's henchmen finally caught up to me.

"Stand down, vampire." The carrying case on the dash turned out to house a sedative gun. "I knew you wouldn't heed Merlin's warning."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"That you're here looking for Mordred."

"Mordred who?"

"Call Merlin," Cheap told Cheaper. "Tell him she's back and she's interfering again."

"I'm doing no such thing," I told the man as he reached for his cell. I held up my bags. "We're having a little soiree at the nail salon." When he didn't look convinced, I flashed him my newly painted tips.

"That doesn't prove you're not here for Mordred."