Her mate licked the wound closed and began a gentle rhythm that seemed to go on for hours. Murphy didn’t rush. Didn’t race. He savored her with every stroke and every kiss.

“Patrick—”

“You feel amazing,” he murmured. “You taste even better. I feel you everywhere, Anne. I love you so much.”

“I love you too.” She closed her eyes. “But right now, I’m wishing you hadn’t learned patience so well.”

He smiled and bent to press a hard kiss against her lips. “Are you ready for me to be impatient?”

“Yes, please.”

He laughed as he picked up a faster rhythm, bracing over her and staring into her eyes. Anne pulled him down to her kiss, teasing the small of his back as her feet stroked his legs and the back of his knees. Any of the sensitive spots she remembered. She felt the wave crest between them, and she rode it, throwing her head back as he struck again, biting the curve where her neck met her shoulder as she came hard.

Anne felt him groan deep in his chest as he followed her, licking her skin where his fangs had pierced it, kissing her as the last tremors of pleasure shook them both. Then he rolled to the side and gathered her close. Anne threw her arm over his chest and let the afterglow of amnis light them from within.

She was in him now, as he was in her.

“You love me?” he murmured.

“Silly man, of course I do. When have I ever not loved you?”

He paused and reached for her hand, knitting their fingers together. “But do you trust me, Anne O’Dea?”

She paused. “Do I trust you?”

“I hope you do.” He brushed a strand of hair back from her forehead. “For I plan to love you more than myself. Plan to depend on you to tell me when I’m being an arse. Plan to love you better every night, until you can’t imagine your life without me. That way I’ll trap you, love. And you’ll never leave me again.”

She thought her heart might burst with love for him.

“Are you trying to make me fall in love with you, Mr. Murphy?”

He smiled a cheeky grin. “I take nothing for granted, Dr. O’Dea.”

IF Anne were a wind vampire, she’d have been flying when she arrived at the Cockleshell Pub later that night. Not even the smell of piss and old fish could dampen her mood.

“Did you really think I was going to let you go by yourself?” Murphy asked, her hand gripped firmly in his.

He’d become her shadow, even more affectionate than he’d been before and twice as watchful.

“I’m going to start calling you a limpet if this continues, Patrick.”

“Give me a few years,” he grumbled, his eyes sweeping the waterfront. “I’ll calm down. It’ll be better when we’re home.”

“We haven’t talked about that yet,” she said. “Home.”

“One thing at a time. Your father didn’t give any indication who this was?”

“An old friend was all he said. Could be an old friend of mine. Or his. Or a new friend who’s actually old in years. It’s Da. I have no idea.”

“That’s helpful.”

Brigid and Carwyn had stayed behind to deal with the representatives from Amsterdam, but four of Murphy’s men and two of Terry’s accompanied them. They walked behind them, but not far. Anne had protested that guards were unnecessary, but Murphy and Terry had overruled her.

Murphy’s paranoia seemed prescient when several large vampires stepped out of the shadows. Anne didn’t recognize any of them, and her fangs dropped.

“Anne O’Dea?” one said, his thick Russian accent stumbling over her name.

“Who’s asking?” Murphy said. “And where’s Tywyll?”

The large vampire wore a heavy beard, his hair hanging into his eyes. Anne thought he resembled a very bad-tempered bear.

“I don’t answer you, Englishman,” he said. “Are you Anne O’Dea of Galway?”

Anne rose on her tiptoes to see over Murphy’s shoulder as their guards moved closer.

“I’m Anne. Are you Russian?”

“Don’t talk to them,” Murphy said. “I don’t know what’s going on—”

“You’ll come with us,” the bearlike vampire said, stepping forward and moving to grab Anne.

Murphy’s fist hit his face faster than Anne could see. In a flurry of blows, the large immortal was on the ground and Murphy was kicking him.

“Patrick!”

Their guards moved forward, blocking the other vampire’s compatriots and pulling Anne back to the edge of the road. With a loud snarl, the foreign vampires lunged forward, teeth bared and weapons out. One carried a long dagger, but the rest pulled handguns.

Guns couldn’t kill a vampire unless the bullet severed the spine at the base of the neck, but they were still an efficient means of stopping one. Bullets hurt, and the guns these Russians took out looked like they could take down an elephant.

With no idea who was trying to grab her, Anne went immediately into defensive mode. She elbowed one vampire who managed to get too close before one of Terry’s men belted him with a cricket bat. The solid swing sent the vampire flying toward the riverbank, over Murphy and the surly Russian.

The bearded vampire had rallied and was tumbling over the ground, trying to get a grip on Murphy, who dodged in with another kick every time the man made a move to stand. Two of Murphy’s men, one human and one vampire, blocked Anne from the fight as the others pulled out weapons to face the foreigners.