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in dark jeans that emphasized the wicked curve of her hips. That t-shirt clung to her belly and cupped her breasts. She had a long neck, exposed by her hair clipped up on her head. Long tendrils of her dark hair slipped down, brushing over the swell of her breasts. And her face—the elegance of it made his fingers twitch to touch her. To track the gentle curves.
    He stood rooted to the spot. He knew he had to move, step back. Keep distance. Then he caught her scent, light and so damned tantalizing his mouth watered for more of it. Of her.
    She stepped toward him. “Shane was getting blood from witches captured and held as blood slaves.”
    He yanked his brain back into focus. “Blood slaves.” Just the words sickened Ram. “I smelled blood on him. Where are the witches being held, do you know?” She met his gaze. “Yes. There are three of them. We need to rescue them.” Ram folded his arms over his chest and looked down at her. “Not we. I’ll go. Tell me where they are.”
    She shook her head. “I can’t. I have to show you. I don’t know the street names, but I’ll recognize it by sight.”
    He studied her face. “What the hell is going on here, Ginny? How did you get this information? I doubt Shane told you.”
    “He didn’t, I found out by accident.” She moved closer to him with her flowing grace and laid her hand on his arm.
    Ram froze, fearing he’d throw sparks like metal against a grinding stone. But all he felt was the touch of her fingers. It was becoming clear that the sparks only came from his fingers. The warm contact of her hand on his skin lit his nerves with a different kind of fire. “Ginny.” He threaded steel into the warning.
    “Please, Ram.” She looked up at him, intensity burning in her. “Do this for me. Help me save those witches.”
    All the years of his rigid training buckled under her soft touch on his arm. But he didn’t give in. Not yet. He had to figure out what was going on. Ginny didn’t play games, but clearly she had secrets that she refused to reveal. Something else was going on here. “This is about more than rescuing those witches.”
    She paled slightly, but held her ground. “Yes.” She clenched her jaw, the paleness giving way to a flush. “It is. I have to seduce you.”
    He went utterly still. Ginny touched a vulnerable place inside of him that he had not yet mastered. He wanted her with both a violence and a tenderness that tortured him. She was the one woman, the one person, who could make him lose control. “Are you drunk?” It was the only explanation he could think of. Although he’d never seen her drink more than a sip or two of wine. Furious, he added, “This isn’t funny, Ginny. We had this discussion. You told me you need to stay a virgin.” But she looked grimly serious. And sober. “What the fuck is this?” he demanded.
    Staring at him, she said, “My orders. I have orders to seduce you.” Releasing a frustrated breath, she added, “I don’t know how else to say it.”
    “Who the hell gave you this order ?” Ram would think he was the one who was drunk, except his witch hunter biology made it damn near impossible.
    She looked away, unable to hold his gaze. “My father.”
    Caught completely by surprise, he was speechless. She’d never mentioned a father, just a mother who had died years ago. To his knowledge, she’d never lied to him. Evaded yes, particularly about things like healing too fast to be mortal, but she’d never lied. He had to believe her, but what kind of father did that? “Why?”
    She turned her gaze back to him and unease crackled through him at the utter despair he saw there. For a quick second, he saw her aura of light flare, then it vanished before he could blink.
    “That’s all I can tell you,” she said softly. “My father will kill you if I tell you any more. As it is, he’s threatening Eli if I don’t do what he wants me to do.” Ram took all that in and spit out the truth that had hung between