"It hasn't happened...yet. But if you keep doing this, you keep starving yourself, pushing yourself to the edge of your control, it's going to happen. All of us can break, Kel, especially when you're hanging onto control by the threads."

Kel's lips peeled back from his teeth. "I wouldn't hurt somebody who didn't deserve it." His fangs glinted in the faint light, an indicator of just how ragged his control was. If he'd been in control, the fangs wouldn't show unless he was feeding.

"I hate this." Kel turned away from Rafe but didn't continue on towards town. Instead he paced.

"You think I don't know that?"

Kel shot Rafe a dark look. "I don't fucking want this. I don't want to give some blood oath to anybody, least of all, you. I don't want to live this life. I don't want any of it."

"Again, you think I don't know that?" Rafe sighed and passed a hand over his face. He circled as Kel paced, keeping him in his line of sight. "It's a shitty thing that happened to you, I get that. I'm sorry for it. Even shittier is the fact that you can't even make an attempt at a normal life because you feel the same damn drive I do-you're a Hunter, whether you like it or not. It chose you and there's not a damn thing you can do about it. Flat out, it sucks."

Kel stopped dead in his tracks and turned, staring at Rafe. A bitter smile curled his lips. "It sucks? Come on, is that the best you got? This goes a little deeper than sucks."

Returning Kel's bitter, ugly smile, Rafe said, "Yeah, so does having to deal with a half-suicidal, heartsick Hunter who's bent on self-destruction. But you're under my watch and I 'll be damned if I risk the consequences that may result from that self - destruction."

Resentment burned through Kel, sizzled inside his veins, in his head, threatening to spark him back into one of his rages. He knew that was why Rafe was still trailing him as he headed towards Beale Street.

It chose you and there's not a damn thing you can do about it. Flat out, it sucks.

Talk about being a master of understatement.

But the bitch of it was that he knew exactly where Rafe was coming from, especially after the fucking weird deal that happened to him earlier when he was talking to Sheila. He hadn't once looked at that woman like that.

His heart was pretty much dead inside his chest, although his body hadn't shut down. But he hadn't ever come close to falling under his body's control, falling under his hunger's control-and it was because he hadn't fed.

Rafe didn't trust him to stay in control. None of them did, but Kel knew he hadn't exactly proven himself on that front. Every time he got like this, he told himself he wasn't going to do it again. He wasn't going to end up so close to the edge again.

But the problem with that logic was the solution. Feeding. Regular feeds, from a living breathing human and for some fucked- up reason, Kel couldn't stand to feed from a male. It filled him with a revulsion that turned his stomach. He knew from experience, puking up blood was a disgusting experience.

So if he wanted to keep himself from going off on a hair -trigger rage, he had to feed regularly-from women. Feeding for a vamp was altogether too damn sexual and even if he didn't give in, just the arousal left him all but sick with guilt.

Sick with guilt because the woman wasn't Angel. Sick with guilt because even after twelve fucking years, he was still so hung up on a woman he couldn't have, hung up to the point of obsession.

That obsession was killing him.

As he got closer to Beale Street, the music became louder and louder. Soon, it was loud enough to drown out the near - soundless footsteps following him, but Kel knew Rafe was still back there. He bypassed the first three bars, looking for a little hole- in-the-wall that tended attract to a certain crowd.

Memphis had a huge paranormal population. Witches, vamps and shifters flocked to the city. Whether it was because they knew it was under the protection of the Council, the governing force of their kind, or because they just liked the tourists, the nightlife, Kel didn't know. Didn't really give a damn, either.

Hell, maybe they just really liked Elvis.

The civilians fit in with the mortal population fairly well. They worked, they paid their bills, some of them even tried to marry amongst mortals, hiding the darker part of themselves from their friends, their family.

But here, this was a place where none of them had to hide who or what they were.

Although lights shone all around, spilling out of the clubs, from the streetlights over head, this part of the street was dark. Kel had no trouble finding the door, though. Some weird kind of magick colored the air and although Kel hadn 't ever asked, he'd pretty much figured out what purpose the magick served.

It was a "go away" signal. On a subconscious level, it came through loud and clear to mortals. None of them wanted to approach this particular door and most of them would quickly edge by, as though they couldn't stand to be too close.

A pair of eyes gleamed at Kel from the darkness and he dug into his pocket, pulled out a twenty. It wasn't accepted, though, and he knew why as Rafe edged a little closer. Narrowing his eyes, he glared at Rafe and then looked back at the big, broad bastard watching the door.

Can't go taking money from one of the Hunters, now can we? This wasn't the first time it had happened and for the most part, it was something he didn't give a damn about one way or the other. He could pay or not. Didn't matter.

But tonight, it dug at him, reminding him once more how set apart he was.

Leaning forward, he shoved it into the guy's shirt pocket and then stomped inside, ignoring Rafe, ignoring the people gathered near the door.

Ignoring everybody and everything except the bar.

One thing Kel could still stomach besides blood was alcohol and right now, he needed some. No. A lot. He needed a lot of alcohol to fog his brain and keep him from thinking about what he had to do.

If he got drunk enough here, he might be able to handle what came next.

Elbowing his way through the crowd, he focused on the bar. When he finally got to the crowded bar, he stood there less than five seconds before a couple of guys off to his left vacated their seats. He shot Rafe another sour look and settled down on one of the stools. Rafe joined him, propping his elbows on the stained, scarred oak.

"Would you leave me the hell alone? Or go play Lassie on the other side of the bar?"

With a smirk, Rafe shrugged and asked, "Why? You think me going away is going to keep people from looking at you and knowing what you are?"

"Shit." Tearing his attention from Rafe, and the truth of what he'd just said, he signaled to one of the bartenders.

"This really what you need?"

Instead of answering Rafe, he just watched as one of the bartenders headed his way. She was new. Slim, almost petite with dark, kohl-lined eyes and moon-pale skin. Her short cap of hair framed elfin features and when she smiled at him, her teeth gleamed white. She had ruby red lipstick on, the exact same shade as the closely fitted top she wore. It looked more like a corset than a shirt, Kel decided, cupping each small breast and elevating it.

Tinkerbell does Goth.

For some reason, he realized his mouth was watering.

She leaned against the bar across from him and he tore his eyes away from her tits, made himself look at her face. She wasn't the kind he wanted. He wanted- Angel.

Can't have her, he told himself bitterly. No. Couldn't have her, so he'd settle for somebody he could pretend was her. Tink wouldn't work.

"What's your pleasure?"

She had a soft, breathy little voice that suited her Goth-Tinkerbell appearance.

"Jack Daniels. Bring the bottle."

She turned, walked away, and Kel found himself staring at her ass, snugly encased in black leather. There was an energy shimmering in the air around her and he pegged her as a shape-shifter with no difficulty. Shifters were like that, throwing off energy so it was like the air around them was electrically charged. Vamps had a quieter feel, fitting, in Kel's mind, since every damn one of them should be staked, burned and their ashes scattered to the winds.

Including himself.

Rafe remained silent as the bartender appeared in front of Kel, leaving the bottle and a glass. A smile curved her lips and she said, "I'm told there's no charge."

Kel snorted. "Of course not." Sending Rafe a sidelong glance, he wrapped his fingers around the glass but before he could reach for the whiskey, she was there, opening the bottle, filling Kel's glass a third full. She lifted a brow and he tapped the rim of the glass. More splashed in.

"You look like you need a drink or two," she murmured, leaning in. The rest of the bartenders were rushing around behind her like a bunch of ants on a picnic blanket, but she looked like she had all the time in the world. With her elbows propped on the bar, she smiled at him, leaned in, treated Kel to a very nice view of her breasts. The corset was cut low, just barely hiding her nipples.

His voice was rough as he murmured, "At least."

She dipped a finger into the whiskey and slid it between her lips. "Then maybe you should drink this," she suggested after she licked her finger dry. Using the same one, she pushed the drink closer to Kel.

Hunger, that hated hunger, flared to vibrant life. It burned inside him, turned every last inch of him from ice to flame. Desperate to chill it a little, he grabbed the drink and emptied it. She took the bottle, poured him another. He drained it just as quick. After the third one, she pushed the whiskey off to the side.

Nobody in the place blinked as she hopped on the bar and swung around so that she sat spread-legged in front of Kel. The leather pants couldn't quite hide the scent of hot, hungry female. She bent down, placed her lips next to his ear. "You're not going to find what you need inside a bottle, handsome. But I can give it to you."

Bitter, Kel shook his head. He hadn't drunk enough to fog the brain, fog his need. "You can't. Nobody can."

Her lips, hot and silken, traced along his cheekbone, brushed against his mouth. "Try me..."

He wanted to pull away from her. Wished he had the strength to do it, wished he wasn't so damn weak, so tempted. Easing back, he stared into her eyes. They were a warm, wicked brown, full of life and seductive welcome. When he eased back, those pretty brown eyes went dark, her mouth turning down in a frown. Quick as a wink, though, she was smiling again.

Try me...

Abruptly, he reached out, cupped the back of her head in his hand and jerked her against him. She came to him eagerly, all but climbing up his body, unconcerned by the fact that there were easily two hundred people in the bar, and not one of them blind.

Reaching out, Kel closed his hand around the bottle of Jack Daniels. With his arms full of woman and whiskey, he slid off the seat.

"To the back," she whispered in his ear, but it wasn't necessary. Kel could follow the scents of blood and sex easily. The back of the club was marked off from the main room by a plain door, guarded by a big black man with dreadlocks hanging halfway down his back. He opened the door for Kel and the girl without any of them saying anything and when Kel passed through, the door was closed behind him.

The music fell to a muted roar. She lifted up, gazed down at him. "End of the hall, there's some stairs. I've got a room on the second floor."

The largest part of him didn't want to find some quiet room. He just wanted to fuck her here, in the hall, where anybody could see. Fuck. Feed. Walk away.

But for reasons he couldn't explain, he searched out the stairs. Walked up them, staring into her face-pretty, not beautiful.

Tinkerbell does Goth, he thought again, as her ruby red lips pressed up against his. She licked his lips and he opened for her, kissed her. Her taste was darker, more exotic than Kel had expected.

Not sweet. A rich wine. "There," she whispered, pulling back a little and nodding to the left.

He didn't look away from her as he entered the room-if he did, he might start to think and he couldn't risk thinking. Once he finally decided to give in and feed, the hunger had risen out from its hiding place, a sleeping beast and he had to sate it.

Sate it now.

But the blood-hunger wasn't the only thing demanding satisfaction. His cock throbbed, thick, hard and aching. He kicked the door shut behind them and leaned back against it, watching as she reached down, took the whiskey from him. Kel watched, mesmerized, as she dribbled the liquor along the tops of her breasts.

"Take what you want." Reaching out, she threaded her fingers through his hair and tugged him closer. She tightened her knees around his hips, gripping him and steadying her weight as she slowly straightened so that his face was level with her breasts.

Kel licked the droplets of whiskey away. Each lick, each taste of her fanned the fires of his hunger and he got rougher, rougher-his fangs dropped and he raked one soft swell. As the taste of her blood filled his mouth, he swore and tore away.

"No!" She urged him back, whimpering, rocking against him. Blood welled against the ivory of her skin. Lost, Kel licked the drops away and then sealed his mouth over the wound. She healed quick, too quick-shifters, like vamps, always did-and when he lifted his head, his hunger screamed at him.

"Do it again," she rasped.

And again...

And again...

Kel let himself get lost in her, lost in the dark, wild ride, feasting on her sexually, feasting on her blood. A shifter 's blood had a stronger kick than a mortal's. It wasn't something he'd had much of, but now he wondered why. So easy not to think past the high her blood gave him. So easy not to feel anything beyond the way her slender, delicate body moved against his, meeting strength for strength. So easy not to think about anything but how wild, ripe and exotic she was.

The hours grew late, ticking by without Kel even realizing. By the time he collapsed between her legs one final time, head buzzing and his body all but limp with satisfaction, it was past two in the morning.

She purred deep in her throat, sounding like a cat.

"What's your name?" he asked abruptly. Almost instantly, he wished he hadn't. He never wanted to know their names. Never wanted them to have a name-all he wanted was for them to be Angel. Just for a little while. Just long enough to take what he needed.

But it was too late to take it back and he couldn't pretend she was Angel, anyway.

"Phoebe." She hummed under her breath and slid her hands over his shoulders. "I know who you are. You're one of the Hunters. Kel...right?"

Shit. Disgust started to pulse through him. A groupie? He'd run into them on occasion, female vamps or shifters who seemed to think that fucking a Hunter was pretty much the ultimate hobby. He hadn't quite caught that off her.

Still...

Lifting his head from between her breasts, he saw that she was smiling. It was a sad, understanding smile.

"Relax," she teased. "I'm not going to go cut a button off your jacket or anything." "I wasn't wearing a jacket."

Phoebe shrugged. "You know what I mean." She reached up, traced his lips with her finger. "I knew you were a Hunter, yeah.

But I don't care. That wasn't why I wanted to be with you." Holding his gaze, she reached down, trailed her fingers over the curve of her breasts and murmured, "This is why."

Looking down, Kel found himself staring at her breasts with something caught between horror and fascination. Dried blood streaked her soft curves. Blood he'd put on her as he nicked her silken flesh time and again.

"Son of a bitch," he muttered, almost sick with disgust.

Phoebe placed a finger under his chin, guiding his gaze back to hers. "Don't. I like the edge," she said in a calm, level voice. "I knew you could take me there. And I knew you needed...something."

Something. Yeah. He needed something. Shaken, he pushed away from her and stared down at his own body. As drained as he was, he wouldn't heal as quick. Even with her potent blood pulsing inside him, it would take him a little longer. So the scrapes, scratches and bite marks on him hadn't faded away into nothingness like hers had.

They'd left marks all over each other.

Yeah. He needed something. He needed his head examined. Phoebe, like she knew what he was thinking, laughed.

"Stop looking so tormented. We didn't do anything that can't heal. And...if you'll let yourself admit it, what we did felt good. I bet that's the most alive you felt in years."

Good. Shit. Yeah. It had felt damn good. "That's not the point," he said, his voice gritty and rough. Rolling off her, he settled down on the edge of the bed and studied the room. Their clothes were tangled up in a line between here and the door. The room looked like something out of a war zone and he wasn't entirely convinced it had looked like that before they got in there.

He was pretty sure just about every flat surface, horizontal and vertical, had been pressed against one of them at some time during the night. He'd taken her bent over the bathtub, pressed against the reinforced windows, sprawled facedown on the floor near the bed.

The bed itself was a disaster, the sheets twisted and stained with sweat, semen and blood.