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articulating the words with difficulty. “All Kindred in a prince’s domain exist there at his sufferance and are subject to his commands. And in his name, I order you to accompany me to his haven for further questioning. Maybe I can’t tell if you’re telling the truth, but the psychics will be able to.”
    For the first time since sighting the other vampire, Dan felt a pang of genuine anxiety. If his would-be captor actually meant to drag him off to the vampire equivalent of the slam, this nonsensical situation was more serious than he’d thought. Granted the prince and many of his followers were Toreador, a clan widely considered to have a softer disposition than the others, but Dan was still unwilling to trust them to treat him with justice or compassion. Every vampire, even the most seemingly human, occasionally fell under the sway of the Beast lurking inside.
    Indeed, Dan felt his own Beast awakening even now, roused by the female vampire’s obdurate hostility. His own fangs lengthened, indenting his lower lip. His fists closed and his knees flexed to hurl him at his captor.
    He’d hoped to take her by surprise, but she sensed his hostile intentions. Her revolver blazed, and searing pain stabbed into his gut.
    Grunting, he lunged at her and threw a punch at her jaw. She hopped frantically backward, and the blow missed. Her gun barked, sending its next bullet into his right forearm, shattering the bone. The limb flopped down to dangle uselessly at his side.
    Focusing beyond the agony of his wounds, Dan sprang at the female vampire again. This time she shot him in the forehead.
    The head wound didn’t inflict any more pain, but he instantly acquired double vision and his body began to shake. Hoping that neither problem would ruin his aim, he pivoted, lashing out with a low roundhouse kick. His foot crunched into her knee, snapping bone, tearing her leg out from underneath her. She fell on her back and he dove down at her.
    Her revolver fired once more while he was in flight. It seemed impossible that the shot could miss at point-blank range, but he didn’t feel it hit him. Perhaps his other pains masked the shock of impact.
    He slammed down on top of her and, using his uninjured arm, grabbed the wrist of her shooting hand, squeezing and wrenching, trying to make her drop the gun. She clawed and snapped at him like a rabid animal. Thrashing, locked together, they rolled across the ground, his blood staining the pale sand black.
    He felt the bones in her wrist begin to give. He gave her arm a final violent jerk and they shattered. A jagged splinter of bone lanced through her skin and scraped the palm of his hand. She cried out, her fingers spasmed, and the revolver tumbled out of her grip.
    The fury in her face gave way to astonishment, as if she were amazed that, even with a bullet in his head, he was stronger than she was. Abruptly releasing her broken wrist, he began to batter her face.
    The female vampire jerked both arms, injured and sound, up in front of her features, trying to deflect his hammering fist, but her efforts were to no avail. His blows smashed through her guard as if her limbs were made of paper, flattening her nose, snapping her fangs and pounding her skull out of shape. Finally she shuddered like a mortal in her death throes and passed out.
    Still trembling himself, Dan crouched over her. The thirst he’d been experiencing even before she had accosted him burned like a bonfire in his throat, intensified by both his anger and the massive blood loss from his system. He wanted to sink his fangs into the unconscious vampire’s throat more than he’d ever yearned for food, drink, or sex when he still breathed.
    But, much as he generally tried to pretend to himself that he was inured to his lonely existence, deep down he knew it wasn’t so. He still yearned for the acceptance of his fellow undead. If he began breaking their most sacred laws, he wasn’t likely to win it.
    The memories of countless