Hot Blooded

suffers."
    Â 
    A headache pounding viciously behind her eyes, Grace drove through Tayanita
County in her patrol car, trying fruitlessly to hone in on the killer's
location. She'd searched all morning and through the afternoon even before going
on duty at 3 p.m., using her personal car to quarter as much of the area as she
could.
    Over the radio, she could hear the sheriff directing the other searchers from
his command post. When the killer had snatched Deborah Keller off the street,
half a dozen people had witnessed the crime. Unfortunately, none of them had
gotten his car's license tag number, and the description they'd given could have
been any one of a thousand men.
    Grace had kept her mouth shut. They'd have slapped her into a padded cell if
she'd tried to report her visions, and in any case, she had no solid information
to share. She'd never seen the killer's face because she'd looked through his
eyes, not his victim's. She didn't even know his name. The only thing she was
sure of was that he didn't need to be on the planet with everybody else.
    And if she found him, he wouldn't be. She was going to put a bullet in his
brain, even if it meant going to jail herself. She couldn't take the chance he'd
get off through some legal maneuvering, or be found not guilty by some gullible
jury. She'd spent too many hours drowning in his sick fantasies, his craving to
see Deborah writhe and die simply because she aroused him.
    Unfortunately, the diseased son of a bitch had never once thought about his
own name or address. And strain though she might, Grace could not get a lock on
his location. She'd driven along every back road in Tayanita County, but the
signal she got from him never got stronger or weaker.
    And every second that passed was another second closer to nightfall—another
second closer to the moment on his sick timetable when he'd rape that girl and
hack her to death with the Bowie knife he'd used to taunt her all day.
    Grace was damned if she'd let that happen.
    Watching the sun sink closer to the horizon, she knew she had only one option
left. Whipping the car into a U-turn, she headed for home. All she had to do was
climb onto the stone spell-generator and say Lance's name. It would send her
straight to him—and her appointment with the Gift she'd never wanted.
    Picking up the handset of her radio, she said, "Tayanita, Bravo 10. I'm going
10-8 for dinner."
    Â 
    LANCE woke to the hot sensation of long fingers stroking his cock. "Come on,
Lance," Grace said, sounding amazingly grim for a woman who was all but jerking
him off. "Rise and shine."
    Feeling so sluggish he knew the daysleep wasn't yet over, he struggled to pry
his lids open.
    She crouched over him, deliciously naked, her long pink nipples a tempting
invitation to his mouth. He hardened in a rush as his vampire body shook off the
daysleep and woke to hunger.
    "That's better." But her mouth was drawn into a hard line, and her eyes were
cold. Inhaling deeply, he could detect no hint of arousal in her scent. She
lifted his erect cock and rose over it, preparing to impale herself anyway.
    Lance jolted awake. He'd sworn not to touch her unless Morgana allowed them
to wed. If he let her do this, he'd lose her.
    Though his body howled a protest, Lance locked his hands around Grace's
forearms and held her back from him. "Grace, what the hell are you doing? This
is the third time!"
    "I need the Gift, Lance." He didn't think he'd ever seen a woman more
determined to have sex—or less aroused by the prospect.
    Gently, he pushed her back and rolled off the bed, looking around for his
robe. "This is really bad timing, Grace."
    She lifted a brow, eyeing his erection. "You seem divided on the issue."
    "Despite rumors to the contrary, that particular part of my anatomy isn't the
brains of the operation." Spotting the robe, he snatched it up and jerked it on.
"What's going on? I thought you wanted nothing to do with the Gift."
    "I don't," she told him grimly. "Unfortunately a certain psychopath hasn't
given me a hell of a lot of choice."
    Five minutes and one explanation later, Lance's heart sank with the
realization that she was right. It meant the end of any hope he'd had of forcing
Morgana to approve their marriage, but he had to give Grace the Gift. As a
Magus, he couldn't allow this Deborah Keller to be butchered, of course, but as
a man, the ragged desperation in Grace's eyes scared the hell out