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her prayers, her mobile buzzed in her pocket. She rushed to the end of the hall and stepped inside the freight elevator, closing the doors before she answered it. “Christian Lang.”
    “Miss Christian? It’s Connie.” Burke’s receptionist sounded nervous. “I have a video call from Italy waiting on hold.”
    “Then you’re costing them a lot of money, Connie.” Chris frowned. “Are they calling for Lord Lucan?”
    “No, miss. It’s for you.”

Chapter 3
    Penthouse Suite
    Alenfar Stronghold
    Fort Lauderdale, Florida
    “W hy are you dressed and out of bed?”
    “I have to go to work.” Samantha Brown smiled as the scent of night-blooming jasmine crept into the bathroom where she stood brushing her hair. “And they don’t let me do my job in the nude.”
    Once the domain of corporate executives, the top two floors of the Alenfar Building had been renovated into luxurious penthouse accommodations. Wraparound panels, made of specially reinforced safety glass, provided stunning views of Fort Lauderdale, from the skyscrapers that soared into the skyline to the west to the wide ribbon of shell-speckled amber sand to the east that bordered the gilded jade edge waters of the Atlantic Ocean.
    Three years ago Sam had never imagined living in a high-rise penthouse. The salary she made as a homicide detective had barely covered her living expenses and the rent for a small apartment in a decent neighborhood. It didn’t bother her; she hadn’t joined the force to get rich.
    Sam was still a cop, although everything else had changed. Including her life, which thanks to her bioengineered DNA and a transfusion of vampire blood was now virtually immortal.
    She tried not to think too much about that, or the fact that the man who had saved her life was one of the deadliest creatures on the planet.
    As Sam gathered up her straight, dark brown hair with an elastic band, a shadow loomed behind her, and huge hands covered by black velvet gloves reached around to unfasten the waistband of her trousers.
    “I’m only working a half shift,” she said as she straightened her ponytail. “So I’ll be home in a few hours. Stop that.”
    Cool, wickedly talented lips drifted down the side of her throat. “Call in sick.”
    “My boss is a
tresora
, and he knows I don’t get sick.” She shrugged into the leather straps of her shoulder holster. Feeling the pointed edges of his
dents acérées
against her skin made her sigh. “No biting. You’ll get blood on my collar and I’ll have to change.”
    “No.” He nipped the lobe of her ear. “You won’t.”
    “Lucan.” She turned around to face six and a half feet of naked, aroused male, and let him gather her against the front of him. Mainly because it helped block the incredible view to the south.
    Not that the view to the north was any less impressive. A lion’s mane of corn silk hair framed the heartrending, impossibly beautiful face of a fallen angel. The thin, almost cruel line of his mouth balanced the outrageous splendor of his features, while his ghost-gray eyes simmered with sensual knowledge, as if the man could provide every pleasure ever dreamed by a woman.
    Which he could, something else she didn’t need to dwell on right now.
    “I want you, and I love you,” she said, putting her hand against the broad muscular vault of his chest, “but if you make me late for work again, I’m going to hurt you.”
    “Hurt me exactly how?” His golden brows rose. “Your gun is still over on the nightstand. You don’t carry a blade. Clouting me on the head will only bruise your knuckles.”
    “I heal fast.”
    “So do I.” He brushed his lips over her ear, lowering his voice. “I know. You can bite
me
.”
    It wasn’t only the suggestion that sent a shivery thrill through her. Just the whisper of his breath on her skin made her throat tighten and her insides ache. If they had been a human couple, by now they probably would have settled into a comfortable, routine