Chasing Midnight

“I don’t remember doing anything to be grateful for. The least you could have done was let me handle that idiot Ivar.”

“And risk sparking an all-out war between vampires and werewolves? The truce is fragile enough as it is.”

“That’s just an excuse. You really wanted to make sure we helpless females were kept out of harm’s way.”

“If that was my intent,” he said grimly, “I failed.”

“If you’d only teach me how to fight,” Gemma broke in, “I could help you next time. You wouldn’t have to protect me.”

“There won’t be a next time.” Griffin took her firmly by the shoulder, eager to forget what had happened. “Miss Chase, my driver is waiting a few blocks away. The least I can do is take you home…unless you would prefer to return to the club.”

Allie shrugged. “My friends will have cleared out by now.”

“Then we should hurry. It’s nearly dawn.”

Allie glanced at the sky. She had lost track of the time…an easy thing to do when she had no schedules to keep or responsibilities to tie her down. Griffin had provided certain other distractions, as well. He naturally believed that she was as vulnerable to daylight as any other strigoi, and she didn’t see any reason to let him in on the secret. Not yet.

“I’ll take the lift,” she said.

Griffin nodded, firmly gripped Gemma’s hand and set off again. They had gone another couple of blocks when they were accosted once more, this time by a thin young man with earnest features and wavy blond hair.

“Grif!” he said. “Thank God you found her. I’d finished searching the—” He broke off, his gaze settling on Allie. “Allegra?” he said. “Allegra Chase?”

Allie stepped forward. “Mal,” she said. “It’s been a long time.”

Griffin looked from her to Mal and back again. “You know each other?”

“Mal used to frequent some of the same clubs as my friends and I,” Allie said. “Sometimes he and—” She caught herself, remembering that there were some topics it was wiser not to mention. “We saw quite a bit of each other.”

“The good old days,” Mal said with a cheerless smile. “How’ve you been, Allie?”

“Grand, thanks.” She didn’t ask Mal how he was; one look at him told her all she needed to know. “I didn’t realize you knew Mr. Durant.”

“It never occurred to me to mention it. Your world and Griffin’s…they always seemed miles apart.”

That, Allie thought, was an understatement. “Funny how these things happen,” she said. “Mr. Durant and I met by chance a few days ago, and then Gemma showed up at Lulu’s tonight.”

Mal raised a brow. “What was Gemma doing at Lulu’s?”

“Biting off more than she could chew,” Griffin said. “Miss Chase intervened when one of the patrons accosted her.”

“I’m not surprised. Allie likes to pretend she’s a world-weary cynic, but she’s not nearly as hard-boiled as she makes out.”

“You’re going to ruin my reputation,” Allie said, then looked pointedly toward the eastern horizon. “We’d better keep going, don’t you think?” she asked Griffin.

“Of course. You’re welcome to return with us to Oakdene, Mal. Stay for a few days if you like. Gemma’s birthday party is on Saturday—”

“You mean, you’re still going to have the party?” Gemma asked. “Even though…even after what happened tonight?”

“If you give your word not to come to Manhattan alone,” Griffin said, “I’ll consider tonight’s folly to be an isolated lapse of judgment.”

Gemma nodded, but her expression didn’t suggest any particular pleasure at Griffin’s leniency. Allie could imagine what such a party might be like if Griffin had the planning of it.

And no wonder. Griffin’s so afraid of the wolf part of himself that he goes too far in the other direction.

Allie had never heard that werewolves were intrinsically more violent than humans—or vampires, for that matter—but in Griffin’s case, it was as if he would prefer to deny his inhuman nature entirely, as he seemed bent on denying Gemma’s. Being old-fashioned and forcing his sister to associate only with humans lets him convince himself that his “civilized” side is in control. Conservative, safe, hemmed about by rules and traditions.

Still, he’d proven again tonight that he was willing to get rough when the situation demanded it…and Allie couldn’t help but feel that the wolf was much closer to the surface than hewould ever admit.Nowthat she’d seen Griffin in action, she’d begun to grasp what it must feel like to turn into an animal. If it had happened to her, she wouldn’t be afraid. So much power, beauty and strength…

None of which he was willing to accept as the gift it was.

What would it take to teach you to glory in what you are, the senses and the speed and the freedom?

Allie laughed. That sort of project seemed far too much work for anyone but the most devoted martyr. And anyway, why should she care? She’d tried to get rid of Durant at their first meeting by warning him that his attraction to her wasn’t real. That should have been that.

But it wasn’t. The joke was on her. She’d thought she would be able to forget about him. She hadn’t been, although it seemed he’d taken her advice very much to heart. He certainly hadn’t done much to encourage their further acquaintance. He was able to resist her, and that was a new and not entirely pleasant experience.

So, Allie Chase. What are you going to do about it? It’s been a long time since you’ve had a real challenge.

They began to walk again. The smells of morning crept into the city air: baking bread; stale seawater from the docks; exhaust from milk and produce trucks making their first deliveries of the day. Men and women staggered, laughing, from hidden doorways as they ended their night’s revels and prepared to retire to their comfortable beds on the Gold Coast. Longshoremen yawned as they left their tenements for a day’s work at the docks. Ragged boys lingered on street corners hoping to gain employment, legal or otherwise, for a few hours or a day. Gunsels on mysterious errands patrolled the sidewalk, their coat collars turned up about their ears, and bootleggers’ vehicles idled in alleyways.

This was Allie’s world—more than the cold, beautiful mansions owned by Raoul and his most favored vassals, far more than the gilded, exclusive milieu of the Hamptons. It was, as Mal had said, miles away from anything Griffin Durant judged desirable for himself or his sister.

“Here we are,” Griffin said, interrupting Allie’s reflections. He indicated a handsome limousine, whose uniformed driver stood beside the passenger door awaiting his employer’s instructions.

“Ladies,” Griffin said, gesturing Gemma and Allie into the backseat.Gemmaclimbed in first.Allie slid onto the seat beside her, not bothering to adjust the hem of her dress when it inched well above her knee. She knew Griffin noticed; he stared for a dozen heartbeats, then hastily looked away. Mal joined her and Gemma in the rear, while Griffin took a seat beside his driver in the front.

Whatever Griffin might think of certain parts of Manhattan, he employed a driver with an obvious talent for finding the most direct routes through the city. They stopped first at a street off Washington Square, where Mal took his leave and promised to attend Gemma’s party. In a remarkably short time—just as the first streaks of sunlight were beginning to sift among the buildings—the limousine pulled up in front of Allie’s apartment.

Griffin jumped out and asked Gemma for the return of his overcoat. He removed his hat and offered it and the coat to Allie as he helped her from the car.

“The fit is hardly ideal,” he said, “but they should provide adequate protection for a few moments.”

She placed the overlarge hat on her head and wrapped the coat around herself, enveloped in Griffin’s masculine, earthy scent.

“Can she come to my party?” Gemma said, leaning out of the car. “Please, Grif. I promise I’ll behave.”

Griffin looked as if he’d been cold-cocked by an invisible fist. He stared past Allie’s shoulder, muscles flexing under the skin of his jaw.

“Doubtless a woman of experience like Miss Chase would find a Long Island party extremely uninteresting,” he said.

“Oh, I don’t think so,” Allie said. “After all, you’d be there. What more fascinating entertainment could a girl ask for?”

He cast her a dark glance. “In that case,” he said flatly, “we would be pleased if you would join us.”

Allie performed a mocking curtsy. “I would be delighted to accept your generous invitation, kind sir.”

Griffin bowed like a heel-clicking aristocrat out of a moving picture. “May I escort you to your door, Miss Chase?” He offered his arm, and Allie accepted it. The night doorman, about ready to surrender his duties to his daytime counterpart, hardly blinked at her masculine attire.