He would go to the gazebo, wait for her, and seduce her. Then, when he had her beneath him, he would pry the truth out of her.

Sunny hadn't dared ask Shay or Kate what a glass gazebo was, and sneaking away from the party had taken some clever maneuvering. In the end, she'd said she wanted to walk down to the creek to get away from all the noise, and from the way Shay's eyes had gleamed, her friend had clearly guessed what was really going on.

Shay had smiled broadly and warned her to be careful, which Sunny took to be more than a passing caution about her brother and his scoundrel's ways.

Sunny had to be losing her mind to court the kind of danger that Jamie Angel was offering, and yet? She hadn't found the strength inside herself to stay away. Despite the fact that she was violating every rule of her job description, even knowing that she might be seriously reprimanded, or even possibly lose her position, she couldn't stop herself from following the gorgeous, seductive man.

He wasn't wicked; there was no guile in him. Yet he attracted her with his frighteningly powerful magnetism. All her years and she'd kept herself pure. What would her supervisors say? They answered to God, and none of her kind was supposed to mingle sexually with humans. Ever.

So here she stood at the end of the dark, tree-lined path, staring at the distant shape of what had to be the glass gazebo. She'd used her own radiance to find the way in the dark, but that wouldn't do now that Jamie might see, so she lifted her cell phone and used it to illuminate her path. The moon was overhead, too, but it was only a sliver, so while it definitely set the atmosphere, it didn't provide much brightness.

Stepping carefully, she neared the structure; it appeared almost Japanese in design, which seemed at odds with the antebellum style of the home. She'd seen something like it before, but couldn't think where. She was about to search for a door, when Jamie opened one for her, peering out at her. In shadowy relief, he seemed much larger, like a massive, solid sculpture, and she hesitated.

He answered by seizing hold of her wrist and tugging her inside the gazebo with him, closing the door tight behind them both. They fell against the glass panes, instantly in each other's arms.

"You came to me," he breathed in the darkness.

"Well, you asked so nicely." She laughed, and he pulled her much closer. She could hear his heart's fast, aroused tempo beneath her ear.

"You make me want to be nice."

"Which is so much better than naughty."

"Now, that, my darling, depends entirely on what kind of naughty you're talking about." He traced the length of her nose with his fingertip, studying it intently. "Anyone ever tell you that you've got an adorable nose?"

She burst out laughing. "Okay, I'm thinking you aren't nearly so smooth as you think you are!

Talking about my nose, Jamie Angel." She giggled some more, especially when he looked genuinely offended for a moment.

"Cutting down my moves now, are you?"

"I have a silly nose, so you were really reaching." She'd always thought it turned up just a little bit too much.

He bent down and very sweetly kissed her there. "It's got an attitude. It says, 'I've got pluck and determination.' "

"My nose tells you that?"

"Uh-huh. And it tells me to do this, too." Without asking permission, without a word or a sound beyond a low groan, he covered her mouth with his own. It was an un-apologetic kiss, a commanding one, and he pressed her tighter against his chest.

Before she could stop herself, before she could consider the potential reprimands—or trouble with heaven itself—she opened her mouth eagerly to him. He slipped his tongue between her lips, creating a circular, slow pressure, until she dared to reciprocate the motion. Something changed right then, a next level of heat and fire passing between their bodies.

This kiss . . . was more than a kiss—it had to be. It was a kind of claiming, with Jamie moving his hands into her hair, twining his fingers all in it, even as he pressed her up against the glass door. He used his hips to pin her there, and she gasped when she felt his very hard erection push into her belly.

He broke the kiss, moving his mouth to her neck. "What's wrong?" he murmured, lowering his head until his lips were against her throat. He began suckling and nibbling there, then, with a laugh, released a husky meow.

She dragged at the air, trying to find her balance. I felt your manhood, and it scared me . . . made me want you even more.

"I'm afraid," she admitted quietly, aware that she'd begun shaking slightly.

He kissed the column of her throat, trailing wildfire across her skin. He stilled, his mouth poised against her collarbone. "Won't hurt you," he rumbled. "Trust me."

"I don't know what to do."

"Baby. Baby. You are doing everything I want or need," he said, then flicked his tongue against her throat, licking her there.

With a trembling hand, she reached up and stroked his hair, leaning against the door to steady herself. He moaned slightly at her gentle gesture, nuzzling her, then turned his cheek until it rested in her palm. In that moment she realized he really wasn't a threat, or anywhere near as tough as he wanted the rest of the world to believe. It was just as she'd sensed on the veranda earlier: He possessed a very tender, gentle streak that he did his best to hide from everyone around him.

She'd done her research on him before today, and knew that he'd seen the darkest side of the universe as a result of being a hunter. Maybe that had caused him to put those walls up, or maybe he spent allhis bravery in the field, and protected himself in love. That thought filled her chest with painful loneliness, a palpable sadness for the emptiness he lived with. She ran her fingers through his hair even more tenderly, wanting to soothe away all his monsters.

"You feel so right, Sunny Renfroe," he whispered in reaction. "And nobody ever feels right in my arms."

She stilled, instinctively knowing that he'd just made a very deep, intimate admission, maybe without even fully realizing it. Her eyes teared up suddenly at the idea that this strapping, gorgeous man—this battler of demons and the forces of darkness—clearly felt alone.

She caressed his cheek slowly, the heat between them simmering, briefly changing to something far more tender.

Just as quickly, the moment passed—or he forced it to. He stood upright, bracing both arms about her so that she was framed against the door. With a long, searching gaze into her eyes, he whispered, "I wish you'd become my lover tonight."

Jamie stretched out on the wicker chaise longue that occupied the center of the glass house. He'd brought the chair out here after his mother's death, when he'd needed a place away from his family, away from the Shades and the Spartans. Somewhere quiet where he could think. It faced the flowing creek and marsh grass, and late in the day he liked to amble out here and drink a glass of wine.

But he'd never, not once, invited a female to this place of sanctuary. That alone should've tipped him off that Sunny was bounding past any of his own protective wards, yet he kept trying to tell himself that it was all about identifying her supernatural nature. She didn't feel evil and sure as heck didn't taste it. She was the diametric opposite of all the nasty creatures he fought. But after years with the sight, a decade of hunting, he had to know exactly what she was. If she wouldn't admit it, then he'd use his sensual skills to pry the facts out of her.

The only problem with that little plan? He could feel himself falling fast and hard, which meant she wasn't the only one who was scared.

He sprawled out on the chair and gazed up at her. She stood uncertainly beside him, arms folded tight across her breasts. He needed to make her laugh, get her to loosen up a little.

"You are sixteen going on . . ." he sang, laughing.

She swung her gaze to him, dark eyebrows quirking together in confusion. So he explained.

"Sound of Music ." He gestured about them. "They had one of these glass houses in that movie. It's why my mama wanted one. Daddy had it built for her before I was born."

She smiled, a gorgeous beam of sunlight brightening up the night. Unexpected. Thrilling. He wanted to keep her smiling forever.

"I knew this place looked familiar. I love that movie."

"Perhaps I should chase you around on the benches and twirl you in my arms, then." He lifted an eyebrow. "Naked."

Her smile faded and she wrapped both arms about herself again.

Everything in her demeanor screamed virgin, and it made him feel guilty . . . but not for long. He wasn't just after her identity. He'd meant what he'd said on the veranda—he wanted to give her more pleasure than she'd ever known. Wanted to see her react to his touch, glimpse the fire in her almond-shaped eyes as she lay beneath him and he stroked her deepest places.

She glanced away, toward the creek, looking uncomfortable, and that wouldn't do at all. He reached for her hand, pulling her closer to where he lay. "Sunny."

She kept her gaze averted, even as their fingers threaded together. He could feel a light sweat on her palm, and he frowned. "Why are you so afraid of me?" he asked softly.

Finally, she met his gaze. Her own eyes filled with desire and heat and, yes, fear.

"Tell me," he urged, sitting upright and taking her other hand.

"I'm not afraid of you."

"Then what?"

"I'm afraid of me!" she cried impatiently. "I don't know what to do.... You're experienced and suave, and I . . . I still want you, even though I shouldn't."

He broke out into a huge grin, his heart beating much faster. "That's my girl."

"No," she insisted, disengaging her hand from his grasp. She looked up, as if searching for some answer from heaven itself. "I'm . . . not supposed to . . ."

He rose to his feet. "Is it a spiritual thing? You don't think a good girl should have sex or something? I already told you where I stand on that one. God invented the act of making love."