“Fay’s been coming to me for years, but I don’t really know a lot about her family. Why?”

“Because the thing that stole Hanna’s soul took someone else’s last night, and I don’t think it’s a random event. I need to find out what connects them.”

“God,” she said, rubbing her temple wearily. “If only I’d foreseen this—”

“Mom,” I interrupted gently, “even you can’t predict everything bad that is about to happen to your clients.”

And even if she did, sometimes warning them didn’t alter events, because there was no way to stop the reapers when a death was inevitable. I could only intervene when the matter was undecided.

“I know, but—”

“Mom, let it go. What we need to concentrate on is finding the connection between little Hanna and the second victim, and then stop this thing before it can attack anyone else.”

She took a deep breath and released it slowly. “I’ll talk to Fay and see what I can uncover.”

“I didn’t tell Mrs. Kingston how she died, so you’ll need to be careful.”

“I will.” She hesitated. “Will you be joining us for lunch tomorrow?”

Unease swirled through me. “I’ve already told you I would be, so why are you asking again?”

She waved my concern away, her gaze suddenly vague. “I’m meeting Fay tonight, that’s all. I should have information tomorrow.”

Which was the truth and yet, not all of it. That swirling sense of dread increased. “Mom, what aren’t you telling me?”

“Nothing, Ris. All is well.” She hesitated. “You know I’m keeping stuff in the safe for you, don’t you? I mean, if anything should ever happen to me?”

“Mom!” Alarm shot through me and for a moment, I couldn’t breathe. “Fuck it, tell me—”

“Ris, it’s nothing,” she said quickly, as if sensing my distress. “I promise. I just wanted to make sure you remembered, that’s all.”

It was more than that—I felt it as deeply as I feared for her safety. And yet I knew she wouldn’t tell me anything. Not yet. “Is something going to happen between now and tomorrow, Mom?”

If there was, Aunt Riley was going to get a call. If not, I was talking to her after lunch tomorrow.

Mom’s gaze snapped back. “No. I’ll meet you tomorrow, love. Be careful with your Aedh—they are more than you can ever imagine, and they do not play by human rules.”

“Because they’re not—” The rest of the sentence died on my lips. Mom had already hung up.

I opened my mouth to say her name and reconnect, then stopped. If there was any immediate danger—either to me or to her—she would have said something. Whatever she was worried about, it would happen after our get-together tomorrow. Which meant I could confront her about it then.

I switched off the computer, grabbed my purse, and headed downstairs. It took me ten minutes to catch a cab, which meant it was exactly one o’clock by the time I got to Alimento. Only to discover the place was closed.

I frowned and peered in the front window. The restaurant was dark and the tables unset. There was no noise emanating from the place, but light seeped out from under a door at the back. I stepped away, checked that I did indeed have the right place, then got out my phone and rang Lucian.

“Don’t tell me you can’t make it,” he said, by way of answering. “Not when I’ve gone to the trouble of preparing a rather amazing Italian beef stew for you.”

“A proper Italian beef stew needs to be simmered for at least an hour and a half,” I said, smiling. “Did I not mention the fact that I own a restaurant and know a little about cooking myself?”

“Oh blast, caught out.” His smile was wide and not in the least repentant. “I shall have to admit that I merely reheat it, but that makes it no less amazing. And the bread is fresh and hot.”

“None of which will do me any good if you don’t tell me where you actually are. I’m at the door, the restaurant is closed, and you’re nowhere in sight.”

He laughed. “In my eagerness to impress you, I forgot to open the door. Forgive me.”

He hung up, and a moment later he appeared, sauntering toward the door, the grace and economy of his movements only emphasizing the dangerous power that seemed to reside within him. A power I could feel, even from out on the street.

Again that odd mix of excitement and fear swirled through me, and for a brief moment the itch to flee arose. Then I thrust the fear away and walked across to the door as he opened it.

His gaze swept me, then rose to meet mine, alive with desire and approval. The force of it vibrated through me, making my senses hum in pleasure. “You look lovely,” he said, kissing each cheek then stepping aside and motioning me in. “Perhaps we should skip the main meal and go straight to dessert.”

Yes, please, I thought. Because if that smile was any indication, dessert was me.

But all I said was, “Do you own Alimento?”

“No.” He locked the door behind us then touched his hand lightly against my spine. The heat of it travelled all the way down to my toes. “But the friend I’m staying with does. His apartment is upstairs.”

So I’d been right. He did live close. Really close. I licked lips suddenly dry with excitement and said, “And he allows you to cook in his kitchen when they’re preparing for the evening sitting?”

He pushed open the metal swing door, guiding me into a kitchen that was small, neat, and extremely clean. Even the huge exhaust hood sparkled, and I knew from experience how hard those were to keep spotless.

It was also very empty.

“The restaurant is closed Monday through Wednesday, so as long as I clean my mess, Robert has no problems with me using his kitchen. Would you like a drink of some kind?”

“Just a Coke would be fine.”

He peered at me. “You wouldn’t prefer something alcoholic? There are some very drinkable whites in the cooler.”

“I prefer not to drink during the day.” I shrugged. “A habit left over from the days when our restaurant was new and we often had to fill in at a moment’s notice.”

“So what is the name of your restaurant?”

He walked across the kitchen, and I found my gaze drawn by the way his faded jeans fit his butt. Nice didn’t even begin to do it justice.

“RYT’s,” I said, suddenly remembering he’d asked a question.

He opened the door of the huge commercial fridge and cold air rushed out, swirling around his boots. He glanced at me before he stepped inside, and the amusement so evident in his bright eyes suggested he knew exactly what had been distracting me.

“Your restaurant has been creating some buzz recently,” he commented as he reemerged. He kicked the door closed, then strode back, two bottles of Coke in his hand. “Glass or bottle?”

“Why create more dishes?”

“A girl after my own heart.” He opened the Cokes, then handed one to me, his fingers brushing mine then pulling away. But the heat of that all-too-brief caress lingered and burned.

“We’ve been lucky,” I commented. “We hit the market at the right time, and we managed to employ some great staff.”

“Timing and staff are both very important, but management also plays its part. A restaurant is only ever as good as the people who run her.”

He stopped in front of me, filling my senses with his intoxicating presence. It wasn’t just the scent of him, wasn’t just the heat of him, but rather an overwhelming sensation of danger and desire and man. As if the three had combined in this one being, creating something that was far beyond the norm.

Which he was. He was an Aedh, after all—and from what Mom had said, this burn was designed purely to get me into bed.

And I wasn’t about to fight it.

But that meant I had better ask my questions now, because I had a suspicion my brain wouldn’t be capable of thinking in another few minutes. Not if the look in his eyes was anything to go by.

“You told me last night that your friend wasn’t Aedh,” I commented, leaning my butt against the steel of a counter. The coolness of the under-counter refrigerator played across the backs of my legs, but did little to ease the fire burning through my body. “Does that mean you don’t actually know any Aedh in Melbourne?”

He reached out, catching the stray strand of hair resting against my cheek and gently tucking it back behind my ear. His fingers lingered against my neck, sending a delighted shiver through my limbs.

“Not many,” he said, his green eyes slightly distracted as his fingertips traveled from the base of my ear down to my collarbone. “Aedh are solitary beings as a rule. Few of them even live fully in the flesh.”

My gaze involuntarily dropped, and the anticipation of getting his flesh inside me sizzled. I licked my lips and tried to control the urge to tell him to just get on with it as fingers slid over the collar of my cotton sweater and continued their slow, sweet journey toward my br**sts.

“Then what do they do?”

He shrugged, his gaze following the progress of his fingers. When he brushed—ever so slightly—the edge of my areola, a groan of pleasure rolled up my throat. I held it in check, wanting to delay the moment of complete surrender a little longer.

“I have not been capable of attaining my full shape for eons. I have forgotten what it is like to be truly Aedh.”

I reached out, resting my hand against his chest, feeling the heat of his skin through the cotton shirt. Feeling the pounding of his heart, as rapid as my own. “It must be hard for you, existing only on this plane.”

“At times like this,” he murmured, his fingers sliding up under my chin and drawing it forward, until his lips were a hairbreadth away from mine and our breaths mingled, “it does not seem so bad.”

Then his lips met mine, barely touching, kissing my top lip, then the bottom, before claiming them fully. His hand slid to the back of my neck, holding me still as the kiss deepened, becoming an exploration that was intense and passionate and explosive. Once again electricity surged, filling the air, filling my flesh, until all that was left was this kiss and the power that surged between our bodies.

After a while, he pulled back, his breathing as quick as mine. “It seems we have two choices here,” he said softly, stepping closer and placing his hands on either side of my body. Not touching me, simply stopping me from moving—even though I had no desire to. “We could enjoy our meal first and delay this moment, or we could go upstairs and finish what the kiss has started.”

I smiled and trailed my hands up his body, enjoying the way his muscles reacted to even that lightest of touches. When I reached the top button of his shirt, I flicked it open, then did the same to the next one.

“Something to eat would be good,” I murmured, my gaze following the progress of my fingers as I undid more buttons, revealing the defined, muscular lines of his chest and stomach. “But you forgot to mention the third option.”

My gaze rose to his, and he said, almost lazily, “And that would be?”

“We could continue our discussion.”

He laughed softly and let his hand trail from the back of my neck and down my arm until his hand wrapped around mine. With one quick and gentle tug, I found myself pressed against the hardness of his body and then trapped in the prison of his arms. Not that I was complaining—not when every inch of me tingled with awareness of his closeness. And of the rampant readiness pressed so neatly against my stomach. Even through jeans, he was pretty damn impressive.

“And what, exactly, were we talking about?” he murmured, dropping a kiss on my forehead, then trailing them down either side of my face.

My breathing just about stopped when his mouth brushed mine again, but he didn’t linger, his butterfly kisses moving back up again.

“I wanted to know about the Aedh,” I somehow managed to say. “I wanted to know if perhaps you knew my father.”

“It is always possible,” he said, his gaze meeting mine as he pulled back a little. My skin mourned the loss of his lips, but the heated, sexual look in his eyes suggested it wouldn’t be mourning for long. “Although as I said, we tend to be singular rather than a community.”

“Except for the priests.”

“Except for the priests,” he agreed, then his lips came down on mine again and, for the longest time, there was no talking, no thinking, just enjoyment of this man and the incredible electricity of his kiss.

“Let’s resume this conversation upstairs,” he murmured eventually.

“What about the stew?” I glanced across to the stove as his fingers entwined mine and he tugged me forward. The jet was on low, so it was doubtful anything would burn. And even if it did, I really couldn’t have cared. Right now, my hunger for him was far greater than my need to eat.

“Right now,” he said, as he weaved through the kitchen then out into the rear of the dining room, “I couldn’t give a damn about the stew.”

The door at the back of the restaurant had handprint security. He pressed his free hand against it and, after a moment, the door clicked open. He stepped back and ushered me through, pressing his hand lightly against my spine as we began to climb the stairs side by side. The heat and rawness of him swirled around me, almost overriding the sweetness of jasmine drifting down.

“So what is your father’s name?” he asked as he opened the door at the top.

“Hieu.” I glanced around the room. It was an open kitchen, dining, and living area, the wall sparsely decorated and the furniture expensive but well used. A large vase of jasmine and roses dominated the dining table.