Sex and the Single Vamp by Robin Covington

me.”
    “I’m not,” she said, trying to pull her hand from his grasp. Panic rose in her throat. She needed to get to her place. She needed space to think, to re-center herself. Being in such close quarters with Deacon, in his apartment, would not give her room to do either one. “I don’t want to stay with you. I need space. Time. Away from you.”
    He jerked backward, as if her words had made physical contact. His eyes flashed with his emotion, hurt etched in the tight line of his mouth. “That’s too bad. You’re not getting it.”
    “I can’t—” She shook her head, refusing to give in. “You killed Daniel. All those people.”
    She knew why he did it and a part of her was grateful. Regret over the lack of justice in the death of her family had haunted her for years, but her relief was buried under a ton of confusion and questions she couldn’t sift through with him looming over her.
    “Cici, don’t fucking fight me on this. I’m not in the mood.” Deacon’s voice was sharp in the gap. “You need to shut down the business, too.”
    “Absolutely not.” If she closed it down now, she’d never recover.
    “I’m not asking. It’s too dangerous.”
    She wrenched her hand away and glared up at him. His face was hard, his expression stubbornly resolute. He wasn’t in the mood? Get in line. “What are you going to do? Physically manhandle me and make me go? Lock me up?”
    “If I have to.”
    “Are you going to let him do this?” Cici looked at Ramirez, who had a sudden need to study the floor at his feet. She sought out Mya. She didn’t like the way her friend smiled at her, indulgently, as though she was talking to a person who had limited understanding.
    “Cici, he can keep you safe at his place.” Her best friend grabbed her hand, squeezing it gently but firmly. “I’ll bring you some of your things. Do this for my peace of mind.”
    “Your attacker is upping the stakes. He was getting to you through your friends and this was his attempt to make it more personal. He failed and it’s only going to make him more determined to get you next time,” Ramirez said.
    Cici knew when she was beaten.
    “Fine.”

Chapter Ten
    She was in his lair.
    The discharge from the hospital had been efficient and mostly silent as Deacon bundled her up and whisked her out the back of the building and into his black Suburban. She was still pissed over his bullying her into staying with him. She could get over it—or not. He preferred the pissed Cici over the scared Cici he’d found in that corridor tonight. If being mad at him kept her fighting, then he’d willingly be her punching bag.
    Not talking, she’d gazed out his tinted windows and he’d watched her as DC slowly woke up in the early-morning hours. The streets were mostly empty as they made their way to his office building, into the secure parking garage underneath, into the elevator, and up to the floor that contained the offices of Aura Mortis Security.
    In spite of her protest, he picked her up and carried her as the doors slid open. She was still limping from the pain and he had no patience to pretend and soothe her ruffled feathers. She went still in his arms as they bypassed the double doors to the office and continued to another door farther down the hallway. It was a heavy gray metal block that shone in the dim light of the sconces on the wall. Inside was his space. His refuge. He’d dreamed of having her there with him, but now he hesitated. Maybe she wouldn’t like it, and for some reason her acceptance of his domain was important.
    It was him. Every item in it handpicked to reflect his tastes, his needs.
    He keyed in his pass code and the door slid open. Everything was on a large scale—the furniture, the artwork, the space itself. The big-ass security panel next to the door that would keep others on the outside and Cici on the inside.
    She stiffened in his arms when the door slid shut behind them. Too tired to hide her mood swings, he