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  "Believe me, there won't be a next time." She opened her eyes, only to be confronted with his and the hunger smoldering in their near-black depths.

  Apparently she wasn't the only one turned on.

  "Any chance we can keep our options open?" he asked.

  Something in her expression must have revealed the horror she felt, for he patted her hand and said, "Relax, okay? I was joking. Well, half-joking," he finished on a weak note.

  "It's my fault. I haven't been myself the last few weeks."

  "Cadamus does that to a person."

  "Cadamus?"

  Nick drank some more of his cappuccino. "That's the name of this generation's alpha male. The one you and I saw when we were kids was called Radlum."

  "The creatures have names?"

  Gillian struggled to wrap her mind around the startling information Nick had imparted and subsequent implications. Names implied a sense of self, unique personalities, higher thinking, social structure, and language-all things that put the creatures on a level with man.

  Dear God in heaven!

  "Don't look so shocked," Nick said. "They're beings. Just not human. I'm unsure about the females, whether they have names or not."

  "Females?"

  None of her research had ever indicated the creature's sex and whether or not there were more of them on the loose.

  "Yeah, three. They're about half the size of Cadamus and extremely reclusive, hiding in back alleys, sewer drains, any place small, dark, and isolated. Which makes them difficult for Cadamus to find, but not impossible. They emit pheromones, similar to a woman's, but stronger. That's how he locates them."

  "And once located, he mates with them." Gillian was so preoccupied with Nick s descriptions of the creatures, she forgot about her embarrassment over their semi-kiss.

  "Yes. Reproduction is fundamental to every living organism. Cadamus and his kind are no different."

  The thought of offspring turned Gillian's stomach to lead.

  "On the plus side," Nick continued, "the females don't eat people."

  "What do they eat?"

  "Dogs and cats mostly. Read the newspapers and watch the news. Petty soon here you're going to hear about a strange increase in missing pets.

  "Because the newly hatched female creatures are feeding?" Gillian grimaced.

  "Better cats and dogs than all four of them eating people," Nick said. Dozens will fall victim to Cadamus by the time he dies. At least one person a night."

  The researcher in Gillian emerged, allowing her to temporarily set aside her revulsion. She'd frequently speculated on the creature's peculiar cycle and brief appearances. "Why do the creatures have such a short life expectancy?"

  "Actually, they live twenty-five years. They're born as larvae. Then, after a year, they bury themselves deep in the ground and undergo a metamorphosis. Twenty-four years later they emerge as mature adults."

  "Wait a minute." Gillian sat back and studied him with renewed interest. "How do you know all this?"

  She'd been so enthralled with what Nick was saying, it only now occurred to her to ask where he came

  by his information. He could be a quack; she'd met enough of them while conducting her research. And while Nick appeared mentally stable, looks were often deceiving.

  "Then how come no one's ever discovered them as larvae before?" she went on without giving him the chance to answer her first question. "Aren't they rather large?"

  "Not as large as you'd think, given their adult size." "Still ..."

  "They're nocturnal."

  "And reclusive."

  "Very."

  "I assume the larvae are herbivores?" "You assume correctly."

  "Like locusts?" Gillian said, recalling her basic biology class from college.

  "There are similarities but also differences. Big ones. Diet, which you already know about, and size. Alpha males stand around five feet tall."

  "Is that all? I remember ... Radium, did you say? ... as being gigantic." Had she really just called by name the creature who murdered her mother?

  "Their wings are huge, making them appear larger than they are. And you were a child. A very scared child. Your perspective was distorted."

  "True." Gillian's voice trailed off as she relived that horrific night in her parents' bedroom.

  "Alpha males also have the ability to speak."

  Gillian was instantly yanked back to the present. "They talk?"

  "English, in fact. As far as I know, the females are mute."

  Of everything Nick told her, this was the most amazing ... and the scariest. Primitive language she could accept, but English? "How is that possible?"

  "The alpha males form a psychic connection with their prey. Also with the females. It's one of the ways they pass information to each other. Another is implanted memories."

  "Through suggestion?" Gillian asked.

  "More like chemical transfer from parent to offspring. And language isn't all they've gleaned from us. Each new generation uses the information assimilated by the alpha males and adapts accordingly. It's what's enabled them to survive for millennia in a constantly changing environment."

  "Survive but not thrive," Gillian speculated out loud. "How come there aren't more of them?"

  Nick shook his head. "You and I made a bargain. I've kept my end of it and then some. You haven't."

  "Surely if the creatures had lived-"

  "Why are you here, Gillian?" His tone reflected the stubborn set of his jaw and prompted her to ponder what had come over him so suddenly.

  Since he had, as he'd pointed out, kept his end of the bargain and then some, she swallowed the dozen questions waiting to be asked and mentally changed gears from researcher to subject.

  "You're stalling," he said.

  "No, I'm not. Really."

  Asking for his help had ceased to intimidate her. He shared a common interest in the creatures with her, had obviously studied them in great detail, and would likely pounce on the opportunity to film oneif he wasn't already planning to do just that. A photo op would explain his late-night visit to the cemetery, except for the missing camera.

  "I'm here because ..." Gillian pressed her fingers to her lips. Please, please, let this not be a mistake. "I could use your assistance with a problem I'm having."

  "I won't be a part of your next book, if that's what you're going to ask."

  "It isn't."

  His eyes narrowed.

  "I promise."

  He waited for her to continue, a tapping foot the only sign of his impatience.

  Discussing her father wasn't easy for Gillian, and something she seldom did. Not because she was ashamed, but because people tended to look at her cooly and treat her differently once they learned about him-which had resulted in one or two awkward relationships and ended one or two more.

  Oh, hell, if Nick blew her off tonight, at least she didn't have any emotional investment.

  "My father is serving a life sentence in Florence Prison." She waited for Nick's face to register shock at her revelation. When it didn't, she cautiously continued. "For murdering my mother."

  "I know."

  "You do?"

  "I'm sorry. That must be very hard on you."

  Nick spoke kindly, and for once, Gillian didn't feel ostracized. Here was someone who understood her, had seen what she'd seen. Someone she could talk openly with and not fear any negative repercussions. A lifetime of pent-up frustration and tenuously held self-control broke free.

  "He didn't kill her. The creature did. Radium." The words, so reminiscent of those she'd spoken to the police twenty-five years ago, came out in a rush.

  Nick, unlike the police, didn't smile patronizingly, pat her on the head, and roll his eyes when he thought her back was turned. He wouldn't because he'd seen Radium, too.

  She sank deeper into her chair, feeling herself unwind. Well, wasn't spilling one's guts what kept many a counseling psychologist in business?

  "All the other urban legends are
just an excuse," she said. "My main focus is and has always been the creatures."

  "Has writing about them eased your pain or added to it?"

  "I don't know." Gillian frowned. She'd asked herself the same question repeatedly and had yet to come up with a satisfactory answer. Steering their conversation back to the topic at hand, she said, "I didn't follow you to the cemetery because I wanted to discuss my writing."

  "You followed me from the TV station to my apartment and then to the cemetery."

  Gillian's jaw went slack. "You saw me?"

  "A piece of advice for future reference. Don't wear a yellow shirt when following someone. Not unless you want to stick out like a sore thumb."

  "Why did you pretend not to notice me?"

  "What? And take all the fun out of it?"

  Gillian sighed, disgusted by her ineptitude. "So much for being clever."

  "Plus, I was curious. I wanted to see what you were after." The humor lighting his eyes dimmed. "What are you after, Gillian?"

  "Proof of the creatures' existence."

  "For your next book," he said flatly.

  "To free my father from prison."

  "You're not serious." He sat up so fast the table shook.

  "His next parole hearing is in two months. I can't be certain but I believe the judge will grant his parole if I provide proof of the creatures' existence." A pressure built inside Gillian's chest, making breathing difficult. It took her a moment to identify the source of the pressure. Hope.

  "You think waving a photo in front of a judge will free your father?"

  "A video of the creatures would probably be better." A number of people Gillian interviewed had taken pictures of the creatures. For some mysterious reasons, all the photos were lost or damaged. "Maybe one of those heat sensor cameras. Or better yet, physical evidence. Skin. Hair. Do they have any? Whatever, as long as the samples can be DNA tested."

  "You'll be laughed out of court."

  "No, I won't." Gillian's assurance held fast in spite of Nick's pessimism.

  "Yes, you will. Except for a small cult following, nobody believes in the creatures. You'll be lucky if the judge doesn't charge you with contempt of court."

  "That's where you come in."

  "Me?" Nick raised an eyebrow.

  "You're an award-winning camera operator." Gillian leaned forward to compensate for the distance he'd put between them. "If you shoot the video of the creature, no one will doubt its authenticity."

  "Forget it!"

  Gillian didn't let his objection stop her momentum. "Coupled with your testimony, the judge is bound to be swayed."

  "My testimony?"

  "The video alone may not do the trick but you-"

  "No." Nick stood, grabbed the two empty mugs, and headed to the kitchen where he dropped them in the sink.

  She went after him. "Wait."

  "I said no. End of discussion."

  "Please." Tears stung Gillian's eyes, and she tried to blink them away. "My father's not well. I don't know how much longer he can tolerate prison life before his health is seriously affected."

  Nick rinsed out the mugs and set them in the drainer to dry. "I feel bad for the both of you. Your father especially. He doesn't deserve to be in prison for a crime he didn't commit. But I can't get involved."

  "Why not? Are you afraid of ruining your reputation? Because exposing the creatures will make your name a household word?"

  "There's a whole lot more at stake here than you can possibly imagine, the least of which is my reputation."

  She grabbed his arm and swung him around to face her. "Don't you think the public has a right to know about Cadamus and that you, as a member of the news profession, have a duty to tell them?"

  "I'm well aware of my duty and am trying my damnedest to uphold it. Aiding your cause, touching as it is, will only result in catastrophe."

  "More so than letting Cadamus run amok? He's on a killing spree. You said so yourself. At least one death a night." She stepped closer. "He can be stopped. Lives can be spared. And not just my father's."

  "You don't understand."

  "You're right. I don't understand." Her hand climbed his arm to clutch his shoulder. "How can you allow this monster to murder innocent old ladies? Innocent young mothers?"

  "I'm going after Cadamus." His muscles tensed beneath her fingers. "Just not the way you want me to."

  "And you're doing this alone?" She remembered the cemetery and the zigzagging flashlight beam.

  "Like I said before, I have a few resources."

  "Not like the police. Or even the army. They have high-tech weapons they can use to locate and destroy Cadamus."

  "Don't talk to the police," he said sternly. "Don't talk to anyone. Christ. What's next? The CIA?" He raked a hand through his hair, leaving the front rumpled.

  It didn't, Gillian noticed, detract from his good looks.

  "I was thinking of NASA. Cadamus and his kind could be aliens for all we know."

  "Weren't you listening? They've been around for tens of thousands of years."

  "The Smithsonian, then. The creatures are living dinosaurs."

  "Somehow I don't think even the Smithsonian would know what to do with a serial-killing prehistoric beast. You'd have better luck with the police." She responded to his stinging sarcasm with some of her own. "I burned my bridges with them years ago." "Trust me, that's not a bad thing." "But they'd listen to you."

  "I doubt it."

  "They would if you presented them with a video of Cadamus."

  "I can't." There was no compromise in his voice.

  "You mean you won't."

  "Can't, won't, it's irrelevant."

  Gillian tried guilting Nick into acquiescing. "You said you'd help me."

  "You're asking for more than I can give." He turned away in order to hang the dish towel he'd been using on the oven door handle.

  Then the tension got to Gillian and something inside her snapped. Giving free rein to her irritation and disappointment, she said, "Anyone ever tell you you're a pigheaded, obtuse-"

  He whirled on her so abruptly she stumbled and might have fallen if not for his arm snaking around her waist and hauling her hard against him. The gasp she uttered died on her lips when he bent his head and spoke softly into her ear.

  "I've been called worse and by women a whole lot meaner than you."

  "Why am I not surprised?"

  Common sense dictated she be afraid. Scared for her life. They were three stories up, directly over a noisy bar. Her screams would fall on deaf ears.

  But the only thing scaring Gillian was her body's instantaneous reaction to Nick's proximity and whether he'd notice.

  Could he hear her heart beating faster and faster? Feel her breasts, full and aching and straining against the confines of her bra? Sense her insides turning to liquid as his breath tickled the fine hairs at her temples?

  The same familiarity she'd experienced when he cradled her cheek during their tryst on the cemetery service road returned. Impossible, she thought with the tiny portion of her brain still able to function.

  Yet when he walked her backwards and pinned her between the counter and his six-foot-plus frame, her arms encircled his neck as if she'd done it a thousand times before.

  "You shouldn't have come here tonight," he said, his mouth dangerously close to hers.

  She stood on tiptoes, reducing the distance between their lips to mere millimeters. "Why? What are you going to do?" She quite liked the scent of him, liked his arms locked around her waist even more.

  "Explore those options we were keeping open."

  "I'm willing if you are," she said, marveling at her newfound ability to flirt.

  He exhaled and tightened his hold on her, a completely unnecessary precaution as she wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. "Don't take this the wrong way, but you shouldn't get involved with me. I'm not who you think I am. What you think I am. And there's a hell of a good chance I'm going to break your heart."

&
nbsp; "Who said we're getting involved?" "A guy can always hope."

  His lips connected with hers, light as a whisper and soft as silk. Gradually, he applied more pressure. Not fast enough to satisfy Gillian, however.

  The more control he exercised the more control she lost. Her tongue sought entrance to his mouth, her fingers tangled in his hair, and she aligned her hips with his so his erection nestled snugly in the junction of her legs.

  Would he be this calculated, this precise, during sex? Demand she savor each step to the max before moving forward to the next? The idea of tumbling into bed with Nick, exploring every inch of his body with bold strokes and hungry kisses, filled her with delicious anticipation.

  Dear Lord. She had truly gone overr to the dark side.

  They'd been acquainted less than twelve hours and already she was contemplating having sex with him. That was a first. She hadn't slept with a man she just met since ... come to think of it, she'd never slept with a man she just met. Lengthy dating periods followed by discussions about contraceptives and sexually transmitted diseases was more her style.

  Thankfully, lucidity returned.

  It didn't last.

  Nick's tongue delved deep into her mouth, his hands snuck up the; back of her shirt, and his fingers made contact with her skin, sending shivers of delight coursing through her from the top of her head to the tips of her toes.

  Gillian sighed. He brought out the worst in her, no question about it.

  "You feel so damn good." His hands glided around her middle to encase her ribs while his mouth nibbled a path down the column of her neck. "And taste so damn good."

  Hardly hearing his words over the roar in her ears, she urged him on by leaning her head back and saying his name.

  All at once it felt as if the floor had dropped out from under her feet. Gillian let out a gasp. It took her several seconds to realize Nick had lifted her up.

  Evidently not as much in control as he'd led her to believe, he sat her on the counter, shoved her knees apart, and, with a low groan emanating from deep in his chest, executed a little hip aligning of his own.

  Gillian locked her legs around his waist and dug her fingers into his hair, pulling his mouth up for another kiss and another rocket trip to the moon.

  "I can stop if you're not sure about this," he said in a ragged voice when they paused briefly for some much needed oxygen.