Eyes searching hers, he lowered his head. Cassie could feel his warm breath brush her lips, and a new warmth pooled deep within her.
The next second, he was jerked away from her.
Jimmy shoved the blond man, yelling words she couldn't make out. The crowd around them shifted, curious and uneasy. A voice behind her yelled, "Take it outside, assholes."
Neither Jimmy nor the blond man was listening. The blond man's green eyes sparked with anger. She was angry herself at Jimmy's nerve. But just then, the blond man leaned forward, menace in his features, and he said something to Jimmy that had Jimmy recoiling, fists still clenched.
The blond man straightened, his gaze scanning Cassie with something like contempt. He turned and walked away as though she were nothing.
Jimmy yanked her arm and dragged her off the floor. Cassie dug in her heels, but he was too much bigger for her efforts to have any effect.
When he got to the edge of the dance floor, he barked an order at Melinda. She brought up the rear.
Cassie finally jerked her arm away. "Let me go!"
Jimmy whirled. "Not on your life, princess." He reached for her again.
Cassie sidestepped him. "Are you crazy? Why did you do that?"
"He's bad news, Cassie. You're playing with fire and you don't even know it."
"You can't give me orders. I've had it with people telling me what I can and can't do." Chest heaving, she jammed both fists upon her hips, then reached out to stab a finger at him. "Go away. I don't need your help."
His eyes sparked with alarm. "You have no idea—"
"What?" She couldn't quite hear him.
"Look." Jimmy exhaled. "Nobody's giving you orders, but just...not him, Cassie. Anybody else. He's dangerous."
She didn't believe him. He just wanted to show her who was boss. "I'll dance with whomever I want and you can't stop me."
"I can get you thrown out of here and banned from coming back."
"You wouldn't."
"Try me." Jimmy towered over her.
All she wanted was to have some fun. Just once, to be free to enjoy herself. Casting a glance at Melinda, she saw the fear in her friend's eyes. "What's the matter?"
"Nothing." Melinda moved closer to Jimmy.
Great. Two to one.
"Fine. Just fine." All the fun had gone out of the night. Cassie wanted to scream, for what good it would do her. Jimmy was ready to get her expelled; Melinda looked as if she would cry.
Cassie's mind raced. So be it. She'd leave, go back to Annie's and have a stupid slumber party. Melinda would quit worrying, and Jimmy would have no say.
But she'd be back. She'd do this the way she should have in the first place: find out where the next notice would be posted, before they left.
But she'd come by herself next time, no matter what she had to do to slip away.
And she'd really have some fun.
* * *
At the doorway to Gabriel's apartment, Jace waited for him to drop her hand and dig for his key. Instead, in one lightning move he had her against the door, his mouth locked on hers.
Yes. This was what she needed. She wouldn't think while he touched her. She would let go, allow herself to float. Jace pressed closer to his hard, eager body. Twined one leg around the back of his, molding them together, softness to hardness...ache to ache.
Gabriel tore his mouth away, his voice low and urgent. "Damn, I want you, Jace."
"Yeah?"
"Don't look so pleased with yourself."
"Get the door open, bud, or I'm unzipping your pants where you stand."
Digging in his pockets, he paused to lift one eyebrow. "Don't think you're scaring me, babe. My neighbors might enjoy seeing my naked ass." He grinned. "I know they'd enjoy seeing yours."
He scrabbled with the lock and finally succeeded. Scooped her up, kicked the door shut and crossed to the bedroom. As she slid down the front of him, Gabriel claimed her mouth once again.
Jace drove her fingers into his thick hair and moaned.
Tongues tangled with a new urgency. Darkness rode them with an unfamiliar edge.
Without interrupting the kiss, Gabriel slipped off her shawl and threw it on the floor. Jerked the straps of her dress down her shoulders. Glided his hands over her breasts as he shoved the dress toward her hips. Strong fingers dug into her waist, while his teeth nipped at the fullness of her lower lip.
She stripped his suit coat, then went to work on his tie. Frustrated by the knot, she yanked it down, unbuttoned his top shirt button, then pressed her mouth to his throat.
Gabriel joined her in a battle to undress him, fumbling with his shirt buttons.
Their eyes met, and Jace sucked in a breath at the storm brewing in his. "Wait—let me." With shaking fingers she unbuttoned his shirt all the way down, while Gabriel's body vibrated under her hands.
At last. He whisked the tie over his head while she skinned the shirt down his arms. One hand slid into her hair, closing almost painfully on her scalp. His eyes were hot with need, his face drawn in lines of strain.
Suddenly, the specter of long fingers and dark hair ghosted across her mind. Laser light. Billowing draperies.
Spinning in the vortex. A scattering of stars. A frenzy of colors...
No! Desperately she shook it off. She didn't want anyone else in this bedroom. Not in her mind, not in her memory...not anywhere near her.
She struggled to block everything out but Gabriel's touch, but tangled with it was the sight of Dante Sabanne in moonlight. Of eyes that disturbed her. Compelled her. But the harder she tried, the worse it got.
Stop it. This was insane. She lowered her head and focused on the clasp of his pants, but her hands shook. She couldn't breathe.
"What is it, babe?"
She couldn't look at him. "Nothing."
"Hey..." he soothed. "Did I do something wrong?"
How could she explain what she didn't understand herself? Jace turned aside. Tugged at her dress for cover.
Sex wasn't what she wanted from him, she realized. She longed to be held, to find refuge from her confusion, and that was both wrong and selfish. Their bargain was for fun. Period.
"Talk to me, Jace."
The least you can do is face him, coward. Clutching her bodice to her breast, Jace finally looked at Gabriel, hard and half-naked, desire for her warring with worry.
And with the first touch of well-deserved anger.
Remorse stung her, regret crawled beneath her skin. He deserved better. Her careful shell had cracked open. That disturbing night at The Club had summoned a genie she couldn't figure out how to stuff back into the lamp.
And touching Dante Sabanne had blown her world apart. Until she regained control, she'd better back away. If she did, perhaps a friendship with Gabriel could survive. Swallowing hard, she forced the words out of her throat.
"I think I'd better go home."
* * *
Jace stood frozen on her porch, watching Gabriel peel out of her drive.
They'd seemed a perfect match in the beginning, just fun, nothing serious, good sex and no commitments, no ties, no chains.
It was better not to get too involved; intimacy only invited pain. In the end, no one would truly be there for her. No one ever had. Even her father had died and left Jace to pick up the pieces.
She'd be fine. She just needed a few days, that was all. A little time to concentrate on the job, forget everything else. Thank goodness that was one thing she had a grip on. She might be a disaster at personal relationships, but she was a good cop. She would focus, block out everything else but the task at hand.
And then later, when she could think straight, when these cases were solved and she had some time to ponder, maybe then she could check on how Gabriel was doing. Perhaps he'd forgive her, and they could be friends.
Sure. She'd be lucky if he ever spoke to her again. She couldn't have mishandled the night any worse. Despairing, Jace entered her cabin. Once inside, she headed straight for th
e bathroom, stripping off clothes as she went.
Standing under the hot shower, she tried to let it all go, allow tense days and sleepless nights to sluice away, drain from her memory, but she couldn't get out of her head the stark need in Gabriel's face.
Or mesmerizing silver eyes. A presence...a touch that shivered down her spine.
Starburst.
Spinning alone in a terrifying void.
She dug her fingers into her hair. Stop it!
She shut off the water and reached for a towel. Dried off and reached for an old terry robe, then stared at herself in the mirror.
The face that peered back was tired and strained. Jace snapped off the light and headed for bed. Maybe everything would look better after some sleep.
Throwing off the robe, she slid an old green t-shirt over her head and reached down to pull back the covers.
There, on her pillow, lay a scrap of white paper, neatly folded. Grabbing a pen from the nightstand, she nudged it open and stared at the simple black typed letters:
DANTE SABANNE KNOWS MORE THAN HE'S TELLING.
She backed away from the bed, reached for her weapon, then raced through her house, checking doors and windows.
Every single one was still locked, just as she'd left them.
* * *
Standing in the secret room, the Keeper took up the chalice, recalling the girl's petite, voluptuous body, the sparkling dark eyes, the feel of her under his hands.
She was ripe for the calling. Her excitement vibrated in an aura around her, the life juices strong. She would be a pleasure to initiate in the True Path. And best of all, she was a virgin, he was almost certain.
The dosage would be right this time. He had no wish to lose another one. This new girl would be a wildcat; he hardened at the thought.
His power was growing; soon the Priestess could be usurped. She was too much in thrall to her own desires, which made her blind to the Keeper's burgeoning strength.
Ah, that would be the pièce de résistance...to drive into the dangerous depths of the Priestess...to steal her might to augment his own.
Then he'd be the Magos, no need for either one of them. There'd be no stopping him; his sovereignty would be complete.
No more waste of untapped potential; so much existed beyond sex games and carnal ritual. The times were auspicious for him to seize control...just as the girl was primed for temptation.
And Jimmy Carroll had better stay out of his way. Take the other girl and be a watchdog for her, if he thought that important.
The provocative virgin, however, was meant for his own pleasure.
* * *
Dante Sabanne stood in the darkened room, staring out at the mountains from the same position where Justine had stood. He heard the caterers packing up the last of their supplies, telling Mrs. Montoya goodbye. Soon the house would fall into slumber, settle back into the quiet that he craved. Everyone would rest.
Everyone but him.
He slept little at the best of times. Tonight, he would not sleep at all. He had much to ponder, not the least of which was the beautiful detective.
He did not have time to play games with her. Not now, not when the stakes were so high. Another time...ah, yes. Another time, he would take that proud defiance and savor it. She stirred something in the depths of him that he did not want to feel. Taunted and tantalized and made him hunger.
I would enjoy the challenge of gaining her surrender.
But not now. Not with this woman who so unsettled him. Who touched parts of him he'd thought long dead.
Did she have any idea who she was? What she could be? He didn't think so, and that only made her more dangerous.
She'd asked about the club, not a club. A roving venue where more than incense was being burned. She was right to sense something sinister going on. He had hoped he was wrong to suspect that Simon and Antonia's little game had turned deadly, but one visit had only increased his unease. He should have kept Simon as a research assistant, even though he was unbalanced. Turning his back on him had been a mistake. Simon's sociopath tendencies, coupled with Antonia's voracious appetite for pushing sexual boundaries...there was no telling what they were up to. He would have to be vigilant now.
And keep an eye on Justine as well. She was young and eager to solve two murders, impulsive and daring.
And out of her league in this game he and Markos were playing.
To lose his focus could be disastrous. The stakes had never been higher. Markos had tried to use the amulet once in his bid for earthly powers, and his failure had only increased his hatred for Dante. He was a viper, ever coiled and waiting. He understood only enough about the amulet to be dangerous. For years he had followed Dante's steps across the globe, alert for any opportunity to learn how to use it for his own purposes.
He was trying again—Dante had felt the cataclysm as he'd lain inside the protective circle. Markos didn't understand the risk, however, and his hatred would render him deaf to any cautions.
Dante's blood ran cold at the thought of Markos trying again. Markos was not a trained Light Walker, but the offspring who were not true heirs still possessed a trace of their father's power. He shouldn't be able to locate the Soul Star and realign it with the amulet, but Dante had long ago learned not to underestimate his brother's determination...nor the depth of his desire to wreak vengeance. Never could Dante afford to dismiss the legend's warning about the dangers of the Eye in the hands of someone filled with darkness.
And Cassandra was a wild card. Should Markos learn of her existence, what might he do? He was getting impatient, and he would try again. Dante's every instinct told him it would be soon.
He had to find the Soul Star. Heal the Eye of the Magos.
Before Markos tried again.
And cracked the world.
The detective sensed something—her reluctance to touch him again demonstrated that—but what had she seen? What had she felt? Could Markos use her? She was dangerous in her ignorance, but everything about her reactions in his study said she would not believe him if he explained, and her defiance could compromise everything. Yet he had to keep her close until he understood her part in this.
Not that keeping her close would be a hardship. On a personal level, Justine was fascinating in her complexity, her crackle of energy, in the sensual promise she exuded. She was a challenge his weary soul craved.
But they were not simply two people who were attracted to one another. Her job placed her in the middle of the battle between him and Markos, and her role as a potential but unwilling Prism made her both vulnerable and deadly to all he was trying to balance.
Then there was Cassandra, straining at the bit, wanting her freedom.
He had no choice but to be vigilant, to keep watch on every front, for he could not yet see the outlines of the danger. For long years his faith had dwindled, yet he needed to believe that his father had once been right, that failing to protect the amulet, to save his beloved, did not doom him to failure again as he faced his greatest challenge.
He had to find his way back to the Soul Star and let it reunite him with the amulet. The Eye of the Magos must be healed and kept safe.
Whatever it took.
Chapter Eight
Hunched over her desk the morning after the reception at Sabanne's, Jace rubbed her forehead, chastising herself. She'd never had a tolerance for alcohol—that's why she usually avoided it. Her sleep had been plagued by restless dreams of silver eyes in darkened rooms, of carpets of stars in inky blackness...by a sense of being a puppet, dancing on a string.
What could the note mean? Dante Sabanne knows more than he's telling. About what? The poisons? The Club? Had he indeed been that man in the alcove?
What did it say about her that the man from The Club, whoever he was, had shaken her so? How could she have imagined his hands on her when he'd been many feet away?
And what about what happened when she and Sabanne touched? That sense of a crack in the world opening, a chas
m she fell through into...what the devil was that about?
She should go to Earl, tell him about the note, talk about what it could mean.
But Earl was a wily fox with a nose for deception. He might ask questions that she didn't want to answer yet. No way was she admitting she wasn't sure about her own mind; even Earl would back away from her then. Unstable cops were anathema. There was an explanation here, and she had to find it before she said a word.
The phone on her desk rang, startling her out of her thoughts. "Jace Carroll," she answered.
"Hey, woman, how's it going?"
Jace smiled as she recognized the voice. "Not bad, Victor. How about you?"
"Well, I just might have something you want to hear."
Her heart sped up. "What is it?"
"The second screening on the old guy's blood came up with that same cocktail of compounds as the girl—atropine, scopolamine, hyoscamine."
"Datura," she muttered.
"What?"
"You were right about them being of plant origin. Sabanne suspects datura. Jimsonweed."
"No shit? Why would somebody use that?"
Jace thought about Earl's speculation on the marijuana. "Could someone be lacing pot with a powder of it?"
Victor hesitated. "I guess so—but it wouldn't be very potent." He was silent for a moment, thinking. "Datura, huh? So somebody's using it to have flying dreams?"
"What?"
"You ever read Carlos Castañeda?"
"What are you talking about?"
"I mean visions, talking gods, leaving your body. He and Don Juan ate peyote laced with datura, if I remember right. 'Course they threw up, too, before the visions—but that could have been the peyote."
Leaving your body...holy shit. But that feeling was so sudden and only happened when she and Sabanne came into contact.
The rest of the guests last night had seemed fine. Gabriel certainly had been normal. And Sabanne had given her nothing. "Are we talking rituals here? Cult behavior?" Jimmy's words vibrated in her head.
"Maybe. Or just someone out for a cheap high."
"Sabanne said it could be an aphrodisiac, too."
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