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struggled away, screaming and sobbing. She hit somebody hard, heard her name—
    And woke up, huddling on the floor, her knees drawn to her chest, tears choking her. Mike reached for her, and she cringed, jerking away. He didn’t back off, just ignored her futile attempts as he lifted her gently to his lap. “It’s just a dream, Lee. Just a dream.”
    “It’s not just a dream. It happened, nearly all of it. It is me, it is what I am. I can’t fight it,” she babbled, fighting to get away from him. She didn’t deserve his warmth, his kindness, his decency.
    Killer—you’re a killer.
    “Stop it.” His voice was hard and firm, but she continued to struggle against his arms.
    “Let me go. I don’t deserve this. I shouldn’t be here.”
    “This is where you belong,” Mike said flatly. “This is where you’ve always belonged. Don’t let a dream control you.”
    A harsh, broken sob escaped her, and the fight drained out of her. “But it’s not just a dream, Mike. I did those things. I am a killer.”
    His heart split wide open as he cuddled her against his chest, stroking one hand down the thick wealth of braids. “You’re not a killer. Whatever you once were, you’re not the same woman any longer. And you weren’t ever the evil woman you’ve made yourself out to be.”
    “I am.” Her voice was stark, and her eyes stared sightlessly at the wall. “I am.”
    “You are not .”
    A high, wild laugh escaped her, and she asked, “How do you know what I am? One night of fucking makes you an expert?” She started to struggle once more, harder this time, and with a more focused effort.
    Mike flipped her to her back and grabbed her wrists. She tried to twist away, so Mike wedged his lower body against hers, his cock pressed against her belly. She continued to struggle against him, but with her hands pinned and his greater bulk pressed against her, she couldn’t do much.
    Eventually, she stilled and stared at him mutinously. Lowering his head, he pressed his brow to hers and whispered, “I know—I look in your eyes, and I know. You think if you were evil, you’d feel the guilt you feel now? That you’d be so afraid? Evil doesn’t feel fear, doesn’t feel guilt. And damn it, you’re a Hunter. That alone ought to tell you something.”
    She glared up at him, her eyes so full of misery and anger. “Let me go,” she said raggedly.
    Instead, he shifted his weight again, holding her gaze as he brushed his cock against the warm, slick mound of her sex. “Never. Not for anything.” He pushed inside her, watching her. Her eyes widened, a soft moan slipping from her lips as she arched her hips against his.
    “This doesn’t solve anything,” she whimpered. But she brought her knees up, squeezing at his hips with them.
    “Maybe not . . . but it means something,” he murmured back, letting go of her wrists so he could guide them around to his shoulders. “Hold onto me. Just stop thinking for awhile and hold onto me.”
    He covered her mouth with his, pushing past the barrier of her lips with his tongue. She heated around him, her cooler body warming from his, and her hands tightened around his shoulders, her nails biting into his skin. Her mouth was sweet and ripe, her fangs sliding down from their sheaths. He pulled back a little, nipping at her lower lip before he lifted his head to stare down at her.
    She tightened one hand at his shoulder, the other moving to cup the back of his head and drag his mouth back to hers. One fang grazed his lip, and the taste of blood flooded their mouths. Leandra made a small, hungry sound in her throat, and she began to shudder under him. The slick, wet tissues of her pussy tightened around him even more, and she began to spasm, those sweet little milking sensations caressing his cock.
    Her body arched her against his, taut, sleekly strong, her hands demanding, her mouth ravenous. Mike wanted to eat her alive. He could stay like this, locked in her body forever. He felt