“Alex? You’ve got a delivery.” Keeley brought a specially wrapped package into the room where Alex sat.

Alex just poured himself another whiskey and sucked on his cigarette. Gesturing for Keeley to put down the package, he took a knife out of his pocket and sliced open the wrapping. Looking inside, he stood there in silence. Looking over at Keeley, he sent him away.

Alex pulled out his cell phone and made the call.

“Guerin! Phone!” Michael nodded to Waters and went to his desk answering his extension.

“Guerin.”

“Michael, it’s Alex.”

“Whitman, what’s up?” Michael heard the pause in Alex’s voice.

“I have something you need to see.” Alex said very quietly.

“I’m on my way.” Michael hung up. Alex called and he went. Alex wasn’t the type of man to call for no reason.

They found him in the back room crushing a glass-plated wall with a baseball bat. He stopped when they entered the room. He took out a new cigarette and motioned to the box.

Michael went over to the box and looked in. He closed the lid again.

“What is it?” Max asked.

“Our missing heart.”

Alex held a locket up from his fingers. “It came with this around it.”

Max frowned. “A locket?”

“Krystal’s. I bought it for her on her sixteenth birthday.” Alex shoved the locket in his pocket and picked up his bat and went back to smashing glass.

“Michael,” Max looked at Michael who was quiet and thoughtful. He had called for a forensics team, but he was keeping a careful eye on Alex. “Michael, why the heart?”

“Hunter’s heart. Hunters and old warriors used to eat the heart of their kill. He’s offering us the first bite because he did the last kill specifically for us. We missed him, so the blood is on us.” Michael sighed and closed his eyes. “He made it personal by sending the heart to Alex and dumping the body at the PD. He was telling us that he knows who was hunting him, and he's taunting us that we don’t know his identity. He’ll kill again, not because he needs to, but because this has become a game. He knows it hurts us.”

Alex tossed his bat aside. “He changed his hunting ground and took a new kill that night?” Michael just nodded. Alex breathed deeply. This had to stop. He headed for the door grabbing his bottle of whiskey along the way. “I’m a peaceable man, normally. I just want to run my life and business undisturbed. But this man drew first blood, and I’ll not be stopping until I eat his heart.” Alex left the room.

“Michael, he’s not looking too good.”

“I know.” Michael went and looked at the heart again. “It’s going to get worse.”

~~~

Max finally made it home and found Isabel at the table working on her Wedding lists. Helping Amy with The Wedding and planning her new home had Isabel busy and happy. Max was surprised that Isabel’s newest partner in crime, Liz Parker wasn’t in attendance. The two spent hours on the phone discussing loft plans. It was like a second breath of fresh air to see Isabel so full of life and happy. They had taken time out last Sunday to go to Albuquerque to their old church and visit their parents' graves. It was strange to think that so many years, so much pain and tears had passed since they last stood there.

Max needed it to end. He and Isabel needed to finally move on. His parents deserved that much at least. They deserved to know their children were strong enough to go on and survive. He and Isabel both had let that slide, but finally for the first time in a long time it felt like they were picking up those pieces.

“Max, you look tired!” Isabel smiled when he came over and kissed her on her head.

“I am. Slept in a chair at the hospital last night.” Isabel looked at him sharply. “Sean. Pierce’s men took him. They beat and tortured him and we barely found him in time.”

Isabel put her hand on her heart in a rushing intake of breath. Sean? Her Sean? “I should go...”

“No.” Max pulled her back down. “He’s got more company than he can handle.” Max looked at his sister. Iz and Sean? Already? Those DeLucas operated in ways that just left a person in awe. “I didn’t really know that you and Sean were close.”

“We're not.” Isabel rolled her eyes. “Well, not in that way. Just in a bitchy girlfriend sort of way. He’s a nice mixture of ‘could be gay’ with raging wall-pissing male attached. I like how honest he can be. It’s nice.”

“Well, he came out of surgery just fine, so maybe you can see him tomorrow. He’ll appreciate that, I’m sure.”

Isabel got up and kissed Max on the head as she moved off into the kitchen to make him some food. “You look like hell, Max. I’m going to feed you while you go to take a shower and change your clothes. I think you’re finally losing that teenage boy look, and are starting to show your age.”

Max stretched and laughed, popping his back. “We all are. Your friend Whitman had a bad time today.” Isabel froze at the mention of Alex’s name.

“How? Bad how?”

“Our killer sent his murdered cousin’s locket back to him around the cut out heart of our last victim.”

Isabel stared at him in horror. “Oh god! How is he?” she asked as she choked back the tears.

“Not good. He took off with a baseball bat and a fifth of whiskey. There’s not much we can do for him now except maybe find this sick f-uck.”

Isabel wiped her hands. “Max, look, I need to go out. There’s food in the refrigerator.”

Max looked at his sister suspiciously. “What you up to, Izzy?”

“Nothing. I just need to go check on Alex.” Isabel grabbed her things, but Max grabbed her hand and stopped her.

“Leave him be, Iz. He’s not in a good place right now, and his world isn’t the place for you. Not when you're in recovery.”

“Don’t worry. I’m fine.” Isabel kissed him goodbye and took off.

Max watched the door shut behind her, and cursed his tongue. He shouldn’t have mentioned Alex to Izzy. She had a weakness for him. At least she knew what she wanted, who she wanted, and every day she seemed stronger and more self-assured.

Max looked at the phone and sighed. What to do? Kyle had Tess, Michael had Maria, Isabel was moving towards Alex fast; but Max was still languishing in indecision. Picking up the phone, he took a deep breath.

“Hello?”

“Jonathan?” Max waited for the acknowledgment. “I wanted to talk to you about going to the wedding with me on Saturday.”

“What are you doing tomorrow for lunch?”

“Huh?” Max was confused. Nothing with Jonathan ever followed any set plan he made.

“Lunch? That food break you take around noon?”

“I know what 'lunch' is. Nothing. I’m doing nothing.”

“Good. I’ll make us reservations at the Towers at noon. See you then.” Jonathan hung up.

“Jonathan...” Max just looked at the phone and frowned. Dammit, that man was so exasperating. Max sat back in his chair and wondered how many times women had thought the same about him.

~~~

Alex got out of his car in the driveway and approached the one that was parked in front of his. Isabel Evans.

“What’re ya doing here, Isabel?” Alex’s voice was dark, cold, and emotionless.

“I came to see you.” Isabel opened the driver’s door and sat looking up at him when he situated himself beside the door leaning on the hood above her. His hand rested there as he rubbed his face along his arm.

“Why?”

“Max told me what happened. I just...I wanted to tell you…” Isabel paused and rolled her eyes at her inability to talk to him. He was so distant and she never felt so off-balance by a man before. “I want...”

“Isabel, I don’t care what you want. I can’t. Not today.” Alex gazed over her car towards his house and the damn door that was too far away. He needed to find refuge, get inside before he killed something or destroyed the first thing he found. Glass. His f-ucking house had lots of glass. That bastard had sent him his cousin’s locket . Alex clenched his fists.

“Alex...” Isabel couldn’t just leave him and go. He was in a very bad way.

“Isabel, I’m not feeling social. I’m not feeling nice or gentle. I don’t want to talk. I can’t. I’m not feeling up to nice sex like last time.”

“You call that ‘nice’ sex?” Isabel asked astounded. He had to be kidding. She felt like she had been gang-banged by an army corp. She still had bruises.

“What do you want from me?” Alex asked turning dark eyes on her. “Whatever it is I can’t give it, not tonight. I need something else. I need control. To dominate. To push something. The bastard took something from me. Took mine . I need to take something back and you’re not going to want to service me.”

“I’ve played dominance games before.” Isabel frowned at him. He wasn’t looking for sexual release. He was looking to control.

Alex looked at her with dark bitter eyes. “You won’t want to serve me, not tonight. Go home, Isabel. Go now. This is not something you want to live through.”

“Leave you alone?” Isabel couldn’t. No one deserved that. “No.”

“Leave!”

“No. I’m not afraid of you. I’ve been submissive before. It’s not that hard.” Isabel touched his shirt front. “I don’t want you to be alone. I need you…”

“Fine!” Alex stood back a little letting his anger rage in his voice. He bent down and kissed her mouth in a long sucking kiss that was violent and bruising. “Get your ass out of the f-ucking car and get into house, drop on your knees and blow me.”

“Alex.” Isabel didn’t expect him to be so cruel and vicious. He was some place she wasn’t sure she understood.

“Your choice. I want to use your mouth for awhile, then spank your ass and send you home definitely used. If you can’t handle it, then leave.” Alex knew he was being mean, but she wasn’t getting where she was wanting to go nor did she understand the enormity of what she was offering. He needed her to leave until he was in a better place to deal with her.

“I’m not leaving!”

“Then come get f-ucked by me. I don’t want to wait all day!”

"I...I'm sor...I was hoping.....," then she became indignant as she saw his anger deepen. Oh sh-it, this had been such a mistake. That's what she got for letting her guard down, "Screw you," she whispered and reached for the door trying to pull it closed. He was close enough to smell and he smelled good. Damn him.

"That's what I was hoping you'd say," he said sarcastically and he had prevented her action with the door by bracing his knee against it. The anger was a part of his whole manner as he pointed to his house like a father pointing a disobedient child to their bedroom.

She exhaled resignedly. She had come to him. What else was she expecting? She stepped slowly out of the car bringing her body dangerously close to his. Her nose nearly brushed his chin as she allowed her softened glare to pass over his pupils.

She wanted him but not like the last time--all hot and wild. She wanted him softer, gentler and more needy. She wasn’t sure she could handle this much darkness, "Alex, I..."

"MOVE!!"

She moved. She was dumbfounded by how the roared monosyllable swept over her, grabbed her muscles and moved them in the direction of his front door. Men. They were so easy to lead by their dicks, so easy to control. But not Alex. He was hard, harder than most would suspect. That was his control. His boyish geeky looks with a touch of bad-boy punkster stood as a warning of how complex he was. Sometimes she forgot that.

They entered the house, him close at her heels and she felt his hand grab her wrist from behind and place his body firmly against her back. She remembered how this went. His hand came around moving to the front of her moving down her to cup her in his hand. She could feel it deep to the back wall of her vagina. It wasn’t enough. But it was what he gave her. For now. He removed his hand and took her other wrist bringing it back as well placed her palms on his buttocks and she pulled his hips to come in contact with her own ass. He felt so good against her and she closed her eyes. He reached forward and undid the front of her light beige dress with all the buttons straight down the front.

Then he pushed her away from him hard and she nearly lost her balance. He was doing what he could to keep his fury and violence under control but he wasn't fully aware of his own strength. He was also painfully unaware of how unwilling she was to resist him. She turned and met his eyes. Pure steel, the darkness of violence and the brilliance of golden brown orbs somehow more alive than fire. He folded his arms over his chest, dropped his chin to meet his arms and spoke without moving his lips, "You do the rest."

She'd shouldn’t have taunted him to her will and now she wanted to take it all back. She didn't want it this way. A fear rose in her. If she resisted him, he might assume that she 'wanted' it rough and take his cue. If she didn't resist, he would continue to take this dominant role and remove the last shred of self-respect that she had come here with tonight. All she knew for sure was that she wanted to make love to him and as her battle raged, it became clear to her that it mattered less and less how she got him as long as she could have him.

She dropped her dress on the floor. Oh God, what have I done? She went to kick off the black strappy heels with four inch spikes that made her height to be over six feet. She was only five nine, but the four inches she added with these shoes let her tower even over her brother. She liked the view of the world looking down.

“No. Leave them on.” Alex said in a cold deep voice. He was six feet three inches, and he wanted her at his level. Strong, firm and willing to take all the darkness he had.

Isabel dropped her dress that he had unbuttoned. She wasn't wearing panties, just stockings and she was glad of it. This would take long enough. Her breathing came in short gasps as the feeling that she would regret doing it his way began to rear its head. She held his gaze. Why couldn't he see that there was no trace of resistance in her? She skimmed the nylons down her legs knowing he was watching. She removed one shoe took off the hose and then replaced it. Once she completed one leg, she did the other. Her fingers fumbled at the clasp of her bra and the metal hooks finally gave way. She stood naked in front of him and heard the words 'now me' in her head before he spoke them.

"Now me," his voice was husky and cracked on 'now'. He had very little reserves left at this point and was finding it difficult to maintain his composure. When he'd seen Isabel's car outside his home, he hadn't quite known how he should respond. His anger was so volatile and dark, and she didn’t deserve to be caught in the backlash. He tried to run her off, give her an out; she refused to yield. No shrinking violet was his mate.

He had thought of nothing else but the feel of her leg against his thigh since last Friday night, and his increasing desire was pushing Krystal from his mind. He knew she would be gone soon. She would wake up again covered in his fluids, sticky and sore, and she would hate herself and him. He should let her go before it was too late for them, and if he had another rendezvous with her he wasn't sure he could let her go.

She hadn’t seen his quiet desperation on their first night together. That moment in time, unbeknownst to her, she had begun to wind him very carefully around her finger. She had touched desires deep inside of him. Desires he now played out on her. He wanted that person she let him see, the one that he loved in unguarded moments. She was a fire warrior, strong, proud and violent with a touch of darkness that no amount of light could erase. She was The One. The one that walked in the night, but had a power so strong she could keep his earthbound body from breaking to the ice. She was his equal in every way, and he was her redemption.

She sighed deeply and reconciled herself to the fact that the only way she was going to make love to Alex tonight was if she did it his way. His need was too great to settle for kindness and gentleness, long looks and shared smiles. He was moving in his anger and he wasn’t looking for softness. She understood that when she refused to leave, and still she stayed. Moving toward him she raised her hands to rest on his hips letting her fingers splay across his stomach touching the pierced navel and fingering the rough tattooed skin. She had moved slowly until her face was under his chin. Their eyes never parted company. She tugged at his t-shirt and pulled it up his torso where it was halted, held down by his still-crossed arms.

His grin was almost imperceptible but his eyes contained a fervent lust, "Ask me nicely."

She set her jaw. This was her doing. He wanted her to beg. He had told her to leave or stay, but on his terms alone. She'd made her bed and now she was going to lie in it so to speak. She dropped her head hard and exhaled through her nostrils. Staring at the floor, she uttered a "Please" devoid of emotion. She could practically rest her forehead on the tense forearms crossed in front of her. He unfolded them and slowly raised them up to allow her the access she needed to free the shirt from his body. His pierced nipple came into view and her mouth watered with the need to pull it into her mouth, pull at the small golden ring and feel his body react to the stimulation. But she waited for his command.

A new emotion curled around her stomach. A deep pang of regret. She had never felt regret during sex. Sometimes after, but never during. She pushed it away and willed it to stay away. Deep down she knew she would fail.
She brought her hands to his chest. She wanted to touch him and feel the warmth of his skin, press her face into his flesh and breathe deeply of his scent. She should have expected what came next. His hand splayed across her chest above her breasts and he placed the length of his outstretched arm between them, "You should know better. I can’t take that from you yet. Not until I can give it back."

She took a deep breath and responded obediently, "I'm sorry." And she was sorry but not for the reason he thought. Her hands went instinctively to the fly of his pants, dropped the zipper pull and freed him from the constrictive clothing. As she drew his pants down she hooked her thumbs in the waistband of his boxers and brought them along for the ride to the floor. She knelt in front his glorious naked body. He was long and lean, and though his muscles lacked mass, they didn’t lack distinction. They were long, corded and strong, firm to the touch. His c-ock was rock hard. At least he was fully enjoying this despite the dark angry place in which he resided. That was something. Maybe he could lose himself in the sensation and find some quiet place away from the anger and pain, just for a little while. It was worth any cost she paid to give him that place, even if it was only for a moment.

She looked up into his desire-filled eyes. 'You know what I want,' his eyes said. 'Yes, but do you know what I want, Alex?', she tried to convey with hers. Once I've satisfied this dark need for you, I'm going to f-uck you slowly and gently, she thought. If she could just figure out how.

She turned her attention to the throbbing c-ock bouncing near her mouth and closed a hand over the shaft. She licked her lips and began kissing the swollen tip. It twitched and she could feel his pulse under her palm as she brought her fist up to circle her thumb over where her lips were. She passed her thumb between her lips and the hot, stretched skin pausing to lubricate it with her spit. Then she ran her thumb down one side of his erection following it with her mouth. She circled the base and licked up the other side. He'd been holding back a groan and when it finally escaped his lips it was almost a bark.

With that, she took him fully into her mouth until his tip touched the back of her throat. She felt his hand on the back of her head and he held her there for a moment before allowing her to pull back. He pitched forward slightly forcing his penis down her throat again. This time when he pulled back she threw her head back violently freeing herself from the grasp and falling back onto her haunches separating herself from him completely. No, I can't do this, the thought screamed in her head. He was being too cold, too impersonal. What separated him from all the faceless men whose dicks she had sucked over the years? Something had to.

This was it. This was the moment when she would learn just what kind of a man Alex was. Was he the kind of man who would force a woman to have sex with him? Would he let her whimper or would he try to shut her up like so many of the rapists she met over the years, not caring what they did to her body? Her heart raced uncontrollably in her chest. She knew she must look terrified of him but she couldn't control her emotions. Control. Where was her self-control? She remained on the floor ready to respond, to defend herself if need be.

Alex looked down at her and felt the anger fade at her sudden move away from him. He'd been enjoying this but something was missing. She didn't seem to have her heart in it this time but it was hard to tell. He hadn't done this kind of thing before, always in the past it was just sex with some nameless woman. He'd always made the first move, but let the woman indicate how far she wanted to take him. It excited and exhilarated him being in charge, aggressive and when he grabbed her in the doorway and initiated the lovemaking that way his body sang. But she seemed sad or detached. Isabel wasn’t a nameless lay, a quick roll in the hay. He couldn't quite put his finger on it. Maybe that was the way these things were supposed to go. She didn't protest, so he decided to go with the flow. He was willing to let their bodies lead them, and just hope they had something left in the morning to build on.

Looking down on her now, and it felt wrong. There was fear in her eyes. She was afraid of him. The realization punched him in the stomach. This wasn't the way it was supposed to go. Oh God, he just needed to rage and rut, to kill something, but he didn’t want that something to be Isabel and what was slowly building between them.

He knelt down to her, his face suddenly turning to concern. He held out a hand, palm up. "Isabel, what this is can burn you. Please? If you don't want this, say so. I'm just following.....just doing.....Oh my God. I'm so sorry. Let me send you home." He was sorry. Her life turned in an instant and a wave of tenderness began to sweep over her.

He hung his head, ashamed of what he'd almost done to them. She reached up a hand and gently stroked the side of his face. It had been as much her fault as his. More her fault really. She knew. She wasn’t a savior like Maria, and what she could offer him might be more than she could afford to give. More than he could afford as well.

A warmth spread out from the center of her being. Her stomach began to dance with butterflies, "No, it's me.....I'm the one who's sorry. I can't explain it but....I want....." She couldn't finish. She'd never asked a man to make love to her gently, tenderly but she was desperate to ask this man to do exactly that and what's more, she would beg him too. It was the something more she dreamed of, wanted. Alex was the only man she trusted to give it to her, and why she trusted him to do it was beyond her comprehension. But she knew that he was The One.

"Shhh." He put a finger to her lips, "I think I 'know' what you want."
He was kneeling and pulled her up to mirror his posture. He placed one arm firmly, not roughly, around her waist. The other encircled her entire body. He rested his cheek against her hair and brought every inch of skin that it was possible for him to, in contact with hers. She dropped her face into the softness of his neck just above his collarbone and hugged him back with all her heart and soul.

After a moment he spoke with all the compassion that had earlier been missing, "I will never hurt you."

The embrace lasted minutes, longer than Isabel remembered being held in years she was sure. It could have lasted hours. It was comforting, gentle, loving. It was exquisite. Every emotion she had been feeling sat in a lump at the back of her throat and manifested itself in audible humming.

The slow exhale that accompanied the sound took with it a lifetime of calculated control. She abandoned herself to the recklessness of voluntary, unrestrained lovemaking. She completely abandoned herself to a man for the first time in her life.

She brought her hands up from where they'd been clinging to his waist and began to trace small circles on his upper back. He pulled his face back from hers and all the harshness was gone from his features. He had the softest expression on his face, the smoothest brow and the most sensuous lips. "Not here," he whispered drawing her to her feet and leading her cautiously up the stairs to his bedroom. He was being careful now, not to issue commands but to obey her desires and communicate his own.

Her back was to the bed and she looked up at him expectantly but a little at a loss for where to begin. He helped her decide by moving close to her, wrapping her in his arms and laying her gently back on the bed. He parted his lips and swept them across her neck and over the end of her chin to rest languidly on her own waiting mouth. He licked her upper lip to moisten it then plunged his tongue into the space between her teeth. It touched the center of her tongue and she lifted the tip of hers to caress the bottom of his. This was in and of itself a kind of torture but one that was infinitely more pleasurable than any she'd ever experienced. They continued stroking tongues until every nerve ending in both their bodies screamed.

She could feel everything all at once. Her accelerating heartbeat, the lightheadedness that was overtaking her, the tingle in her nipples, the readiness of her muscles and the heat between her legs. It was overwhelming. She didn’t know. No one had ever told her that just a touch or a kiss could go so deep into the heart of a person.

Alex was out of his element as well. This was the way he wanted her, had wanted her since a year before. It was why he couldn’t use her then, and why he sent her away. It was all or nothing. He wanted it all. He was tired of being alone, fighting alone.

The fingers of his right hand traced up the side of her body, across the defined muscles of her stomach and up to her breasts. He placed his whole hand over her right breast warming her cool skin with the body heat that emanated from it. Then he began a slow, circular massage and felt the nipple harden against the lifeline on his palm. He pulled his hand away and replaced it with his mouth. He moved over her breast opening his mouth to take as much of her mound of flesh as he could into it and then sucking and drawing his head up until her rigid, crimson rosebud popped out from between his lips. He repeated the stroke twice and then moved to her other breast to perform the same movement again. She was more than a mouthful, but Alex smiled against her skin. He always was a breasts man, but only after the ass. In both regards, Isabel Evans in his mind was perfect.

He slid away from her slightly on the bed to spread kisses along her abdomen and down into her wetness. She was hot. The ache was insufferable and as she spread her legs he began to lightly caress her with his tongue. The moisture he inspired dripped down to the sheets. He flicked hard against her clitoris and her entire body jumped. Then he slipped his tongue as far into her as he could. His upper lip contacted her clit again and she jerked, thrusting her hips into his face. He tongued her until she thought she would lose her mind.

She pushed her head back into the pillow. This was torture, beautiful torture. “Alex, don't stop, don't ever stop.” Alex just smiled against her skin and took her over the edge again.

She wanted to turn this back on him. Give him something back. Was it gratitude? She didn't know. Didn't care. She drew her body up turning him onto his back and straddled his upper thighs. She faced him now and bending to cover his body with hers, she stroked his eyes closed with her lips. She ran her hands all over his body lightly skimming the surface. She wanted to touch all of him, all at once. A need to return the gentle petting burned inside her. It would have been easy just to crawl onto him and pump them both to ecstasy, but she wanted to enjoy this new found sense of mutual surrender.

She began kissing his face. She moved down his nose to his mouth where she stayed a bit before working her way down his chest pausing to flick at his nipples. She pulled at the ringed one with her lips mimicking the way he had stimulated her which elicited a moan from him. When she pulled the nipple ring with her teeth and moved her tongue on the engorged flesh his groan became louder. It was almost a laugh. She smiled and continued her trip south.

Once there, she began by taking his testicles into her mouth and sucking on them rhythmically as they hardened and were drawn up closer to his body. This caused him to reach down and squeeze her shoulder. She was doing it right and he liked it. She continued, moving her lips and tongue around the shaft and up to the head to pause at the area just beneath the head that made him draw in his breath and hold it. She licked away the drips and placed her mouth over the top slipping her tongue under the base of the head. He squeezed her shoulder harder and moaned, luxuriating in the delicate movements of her mouth. She took him in her mouth more gently this time but not deeply and pumped over the top three inches several times bringing her head up slowly then slamming it down hard pressing her lips tight together as she went. Her ache to have him inside her throbbed between her legs.

Alex had the same thought, and he responded by sitting up grabbing at her and uttering in a low, potent voice, "Now!"

She moved quickly over him, the desperation inside her peaking. She slid down over his erection easily. She was so wet. She was made of silk and he was an instrument of sheer pleasure. She wrapped her arms around his chest, her legs bent at the knee provided the piston for their intense thrusts. He cupped his hands over her ass and curled her hips into him.

The mutual orgasm overtook them rapidly. Alex began to see spots as she rode him hard, sucking him dry. So he closed his eyes tightly and buried his face in her shoulder. Isabel inhaled sharply with each thrust and her exhale was mixed with a tiny cry. Her insides began to spasm and his ejaculate coursed out of his body and into hers.

The sobs came out of her in fits as she tried to remember where she was. Who she was. He extinguished his own cry by sinking his teeth into her soft, sweaty shoulder and panting deeply, letting his hot panting breath tumble over her skin. The blood pooled in his mouth as he felt the first wave of energy hit him, and her voice sounding small in the wake calling his name.

They gripped each other tightly, afraid this wasn't real and if either of them let go the other person would disappear. They fell sideways and into an embrace of scattered limbs, damp foreheads touching. Minutes that became hours passed and their breathing finally slowed.

Alex looked down at her and she watched his mouth curl into what was the closest to a smile she'd seen yet. "God, I love those shoes."

Isabel looked down her own body where she was still wearing her heels and nothing else. No knowing it she was scratching grooves in his legs with the spikes. She thought her breathing was under control until she spoke and the words came out mixed with her spent energy, all breathless and husky.

“My ‘f-uck-me’ pumps?” Isabel leaned in to lick some sweat from his skin. “Did they work for you?”

He draped an arm over his eyes and laughed, "I should say so." Moving up and over her, his arms snaked around her body as he sprawled across her resting on her breasts.

She lifted her arms to settle around him as she rested too, "Good."

Isabel held him in her arms as he rested, not wanting to lose the close connection she felt to him. The raging violence somehow had been released. Who knew that sex, lovemaking with care could have the same effect? It scared her to realize that she walked into that house wanting his dark side to force her, to rape and beat her. She was afraid, but in a brief glimpse of time that expanded into a lifetime, she had wanted him to f-uck her throat, pin her to his front foyer and rape her while she screamed for mercy. And not finished with her, she wanted him to turn her over and sodomize her until she bled. Leaving her broken and bleeding on the floor, Isabel could in her mind see her abused body broken in a pool of her own blood. She wanted and needed him to punish her. Punish her for all the evil she visited on her own body and mind for six years.

The hurt was such a rage inside, and he was at a dark place that she knew that she would finally get release. But as suddenly as that moment had opened and expanded into a thought, it was gone. They both had pulled back and found a way around the obvious pitfall. If she had pushed him into rape, he would’ve never recovered, and she feared neither would she. It would have destroyed them both. Isabel closed her eyes in did something she hadn’t done in over six years. She prayed to God, and thanked him for whatever made them save themselves.

Isabel slowly became aware of the trembling of his body, as the shakes became stronger. Holding him to her, warming him with her touch, she felt the first drops of moisture on her skin where he lay sprawled across her body. Tears. Hers joined his as both of them let lifetime of pain and regret wash away into sleep.

It was still dark when Alex woke--early morning. Isabel was moving around the room dressing to leave. Alex watched her for a few moments before he spoke.

“Stay.” The word ‘please’ was unspoken, but still heard.

Isabel stiffened at the sound of his voice and turned to look at him. Sitting on the bed next to him, she placed her hand on his chest. He looked so good to her. In sleep his face took on a gentle resting quality, so soft and young. Innocent. She wanted to see that look on a child of her own someday, but not today. Today was not the time. He couldn’t go there with her, not yet. This murder case was eating his soul, tearing him up alive. A part of her wanted to stay and help him, but another part knew that it wasn’t her place. She was too fragile to withstand the violence, and if… if she wanted a future with him she needed to back away, become stronger and let him do what he needed to do. What he was born to do.

“I want to,” she said softly.

Alex sat up and moved his hands up her neck under her hair to hold her face. Kissing her was like living. It was that rush of cold crisp air that cut into the lungs on an early morning run in the middle of winter. It hurt, it burned and it reminded him what living was.

“You need to go. I wish I could take you home.”

“This is hard enough.” Isabel pushed him back down onto the bed and rested against him for a moment. “This isn’t like last time. I know the difference now. A friend helped me. Just know that I’ll be waiting for you, and if you need me I’ll come.”

Alex moved his hand up her back and looked at her in the darkened room. She was like a light to him--not like the light of creation or heaven, but more the brilliance of fire. She warmed him.

“Go. Go before I forget that I don’t 'do' gentle and beg you to stay.”

Isabel laughed softly as she kissed him again quickly. “Oh, you 'do' gentle, Alex. Your own special brand of gentleness, and lucky for you I like it.”

Alex smiled as she left the room. He rested in the silence of the early day and listened as his front door closed softly and her car left his driveway. When the sound and warmth of her was gone his face shifted and altered. The darkness and the violence found a way back inside where it lived. He would release it, but not until justice was found. It seemed amazing to him, but somehow that woman, his woman, had found him a few hours of peace. Sometimes for a man such as he, that was all there could be. A moment.

~~~

Michael lay prone on the bed with his head resting on his arms at the foot watching the television that was usually closed up in the armoire. He had gone to pick up Maria from the hospital, reluctantly extracting her from her family, and took her home. She was extremely tired. Spending the night in a chair waiting for Sean to get out of surgery, then in another chair waiting for him in recovery, and finally finishing a night in a chair in Sean’s room had taken a toll on her.

Michael cursed his own stupidity for letting her do it as he guided her up the stairs to their bedroom and into the bathroom for a long shower. They had ordered food and eaten it on their bed while watching an old black and white movie. It was one of the films from the Thin Man series. Maria liked the humor, and even Michael enjoyed the old gumshoe police talk.

They were only halfway into the show when he realized how heavy she felt on his back. Looking behind him, he realized that she had fallen asleep on him. Her naked skin mated with his along the full range of his body. Smiling gently with a look he reserved only for her, he reached to the side and pulled the covers up over her skin. She still felt cool to the touch.

Resting on his arms on the pillow, he turned his attention back to the movie and never noticed when Mr. Booboo came to join them, depositing his nightly kill on the bed next to them and curling up tightly against Maria's stomach.

~~~

He moved through his house picking up carelessly dropped items. He hated it when he became distracted and thoughtlessly dropped things when he entered the house. His hand still hurt from where he had broken the glass to escape the warehouse. It had been foolish for him to stay and watch the police the other day, but he couldn’t resist. That had never happened before. His ability to resist temptation had always been solid. A life ruled by emotions, and decisions based on desires were destined to fail from the get-go.

He needed to calm himself, and redefine his purpose and his goals. It had been a mistake to dump the bodies, to call attention to himself. But after all those years, it was so time-consuming to carefully dispose of bodies that were flawed. Tired. He was so tired. The harder he fought and the more perfect he was, the more outraged he became at having his wants and desires unrealized. No amount of yielding and catering could fix the fact that he had to deal with the diseased.

Taking a cup of hot coffee with him, he went to his basement. He had renovated it years ago to be a calming comfortable space full of clean basins of stainless steel and an operating table--his place to process his kills. The white dump bucket rested close to the table. The entrails he dumped outside to his dogs. They liked the tender flesh.

Moving to a special door that was disguised as a closet, he opened it into a subterranean space. He had purchased the property next door some time ago, and unknown to many, he had had a cellar space created that connected the two properties. He had told the construction company owner who poured and created the space that it was a bomb shelter. The construction owner had unfortunately (for him) found his way into the collection. Lithuanian, born in the Old Country and brought to America as a child, the man was always telling him how horrified he was that his young children wanted to tattoo their bodies. He had been a perfect specimen. Turning on the lights, he walked the corridors and found calmness in viewing his collection. The spot he had reserved for a Mediterranean birth was empty.

He smiled. It was a shame that he had to dump the last body. It was flawless. No birthmarks, no marring or scars and no mutilation. But he left it as a marker, a warning to the hunters. Now they knew that he knew. They were just stupid cops in addition to that one club owner. There was no way that they could match his mental prowess or come close to catching him. He had walked for years around the most intelligent of people, and not once was he ever suspected. The trick was to simply fade into obscurity.

He walked the corridors enjoying his collection and humming. He needed to find his next specimen and soon. But first, he would let his hand heal a little.

~~~

“Maria?” Michael frowned at his sleeping fiancée. She was dead to the world, and she had gone to sleep early last night. Throughout the night he kept waking up to check on her, but she remained fast asleep almost like she needed to concentrate on resting. “Maria. Come on, Professor, wake up.”

Maria slowly stirred and opened an eye to look at Michael. Squinting she looked at the clock and groaned. “Tell me it’s not morning.”

“Okay, it’s not morning.”

“Liar.” Maria slowly sat up in bed. Moving sluggishly, she put her feet down on the floor and tried to stand up. Both she and Michael quickly sat back down. The room was spinning for both of them, and Michael swore under his breath. Looking over at Maria he watched the little color she had as it drained from her skin. He quickly bent her head down to her knees before she passed out.

“Don’t cuss,” she said in a muffled voice against her legs. “It’s not good for the baby, and you only have seven months to get it together before we birth a nine-pound swearing hell-a-beast with bad Guerin hair.”

“Hey, there’s nothing wrong with my hair.”

“Michael.” Maria looked up at him. “If you don’t get me to the bathroom now, the mess is going to be indescribable.”

“Dammit.” Michael quickly helped her to the bathroom. “Don’t boot until we get there.” Scooting Mr. B out of the way, they just barely made the toilet before Maria was violently ill. Michael closed his eyes and rode the wave of nausea threatening him as well. Keeping his one hand on the back of her neck, his other hand stroked her back.

“How long does this last? Did your books say?” Maria asked weakly as she leaned against him.

“First trimester. About six more weeks.”

“I’m going to die first.”

Michael gathered close and rinsed out a cloth to wipe her face. “No, you’re not. It’ll pass soon. In just a few more weeks the worst of the morning sickness will be over, and you’ll be in fighting trim.”

“Michael, I’m cold.”

“I know.” He held her body tight, but she was shivering all over. “Here, rinse out your mouth and I’ll put you back to bed.” Maria just nodded as he passed her the rinse cup. Watching her carefully, he thought about tossing her into a bath of hot water. “How about a nice hot bath, and I’ll make you some hot tea?”

Maria just shook her head wearily. “I don’t think I can sit up too long. Bed. I just want to sleep a little longer.”

“Okay.” Michael put the cup back on the sink and stood up. He reached down, picked her up and took her back to the bedroom. Putting her to bed and covering her with the blankets, he went to the chest and pulled out a heavy quilt. Covering her up, Michael sat down on the bed beside her and frowned as lines of worry deepened into a scowl.

“Your face will break.” Maria kissed him on the chin. “Lighten up. I’m okay.”

“I’m staying home with you today.” Michael picked up the phone to call Max. Maria calmly took it out of his hand and hung it up.

“You can’t. It’s morning sickness. We know what’s wrong. If you want to do something, call DocJim, have him write me a prescription for the nausea and pick it up for me.” Maria watched the various emotions war across his face. “Michael, you’ve got a case to work on. Sean is in the hospital and you can’t be babysitting me. You're needed to serve and protect.”

“Maria...”

“Go.” Maria pulled him down to where she was lying against the pillows. “Go. I’m fine. I’ll be up and around by lunchtime. Honey, you can’t babysit me for seven months. Just go, please?”

Michael closed his eyes and just shook his head. “Okay, but I’m calling the clinic first and see what DocJim thinks. I’ll get you the prescription and I’ll be home for lunch to check up on you.”

Maria smiled at him. “Oh goody! Lose the partner, and maybe we could have a real lunch!” Maria made a face at him making him laugh. Sex. It had been so long, or it sure felt like it.

After some coaxing, Michael went to work. He called Maria’s secretary and arranged her classes, and then called the doctor’s office. He and DocJim talked quietly, and finally Jim decided to give Maria something for her morning sickness and made her an appointment for the following day.

Michael was still uncertain and unhappy by the time Max picked him up. The day was already shaping up to be a bad one, and he needed to talk to Alex. The man had been unavailable since they found the last body, and after yesterday with the heart it was possible that Alex would be beyond their reach.

“What’s with you?” Max asked as Michael just grunted. “Come on, spill! It can’t be as bad as my place right now. Isabel was out late last night and didn’t make it in until early this morning.” Max paused. “She went to Whitman.” Michael looked at Max sharply, but didn't comment. They needed to let Isabel work on her life as she saw fit. But Whitman seemed too destroyed right now to handle Isabel and her problems. “And then mere hours Amy woke her up. Isabel is all excited about Amy’s wedding, and Amy showed up on my doorstep at the crack of dawn. They were talking about going to the hospital to check on Sean and keep him company.”

“That should speed up his recovery. All those DeLucas, Amy, and Isabel holding him captive in his sick bed. I’ve got ten bucks that says he starts bitching by this morning, becomes a nuisance by afternoon and has discharge papers written tonight to send him on his way by tomorrow morning.”

“Can’t bet with you, pal. I happen to agree.” Both men snickered at possible Sean reactions to being coddled. “So what’s got you all dark and gloomy?”

“Maria.” Michael looked at Max and frowned. “The morning sickness seems to be getting worse and worse. Did Tess get sick?”

Max just shrugged. How would he know? Really? He hadn’t been there, but Tess said she felt great. “I don’t think so. I think her lack of symptoms or indications was why she took so long to figure it out.” Max squirmed a little in his seat. Talking about Tess and the baby made him uncomfortable, even after talking to her the previous day. It wasn’t her. It was him. He knew he needed to make a decision. “So Maria is staying home sick today?”

Michael just nodded, lost in his own thoughts. Guilt. He felt guilty. Seeing her all sick and cold was his fault. Getting her pregnant was his fault. Actually Michael slightly smiled at that. Nope. Couldn’t do it. He couldn’t feel guilty or remorse over expecting a child. He wanted it.

“She went back to sleep. I promised to come home for lunch to check up on her.” Max looked at his friend. “I need to pick up some medicine for the nausea on the way home.”

“Well, I sort of have a lunch date at the Towers today, so how about you drop me off and take the Rat-mobile?”

Michael nodded absentmindedly until what Max said actually hit him. “A date?”

Max looked at his partner’s raised eyebrow and tilted his head. “Jonathan, okay?”

“This is getting serious, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know.” Max just sighed. “Dammit, you’d think that if I was going to go all gay this late in life it would be over someone like...well...like you.” Michael turned and concentrated on Max. “I mean, there’s no one I trust, respect or love like I do you, Michael. You and Isabel. You’re my family.”

“I know.” Michael nodded his head at Max. “It’s the same for me. You and Isabel, you’re family. And Maria and the baby? They’re everything...everything to me. My family went from me and Mikey, to just me, to the three of us and now it gets bigger and better every day.”

Max smiled at that. It was true. Michael was getting everything he ever wanted. All of it. A large family, the love of his life and connections that grounded him to that real life. Max was honored just to be part of the connection. Mikey Guerin would’ve been proud of his son.

“You’re lucky.” Michael just nodded as he spotted a drive-through. Whataburger? When did they start serving breakfast? Michael gestured to the drive-through and Max automatically piloted the wreck-mobile to the drive thru.

“I am. And if we could get Maria’s morning sickness under control, I’d feel even better.” Michael looked at the menu and told Max what he wanted. Ignoring his partner’s look of horror, he sat back, barely able to contain his excitement. Food. Damn, he was starving! “Oh, order me an extra coffee!”

“Michael, how can you eat so much and be losing weight? That goes for Maria, too. I swear she is looking small.”

“I think it’s the morning sickness. She eats a lot, but then she loses a lot too. I don’t know. We’ve got a doctor’s appointment tomorrow.” Michael looked at Max in speculation. “Tess has the same doctor. You meet Jim yet?” Max just shook his head no. “Why not? It’s your baby too.”

Max started passing the food to Michael as the cashier took the money. He swore when he noticed the man looking in the back of their car for the other people. Glut Boy was already digging through his bags. They made him burgers for breakfast. Max calmly asked the cashier for more ketchup.

“So why not, Max?” Michael asked again when they drove away from the restaurant.

“I don’t know. First it was shock and just being uncertain about how much Tess wanted me in her life. But now that she and Kyle are married it’s harder. They seem like a unit.” Max took a drink of coffee as they stalled in traffic. A f-ucking traffic jam? In Roswell? “Kyle gave me information about Tess’s next appointment and invited me to join them. Guess they’re doing another ultrasound.”

“You should go.” Michael said with his mouth full of hashbrowns and ketchup, as he tried to shove a burger in his mouth whole. “You can’t build a connection if you don’t start somewhere.” Michael searched for his Tabasco sauce. “I know the circumstances are unsettling, but it doesn’t matter. None of it matters. Tess’s marriage to Kyle is between them, but the baby...the baby is yours, and neither Tess nor Kyle is denying that. You are. So I suggest that you stop worrying about the future and all these little details, and go get into this pregnancy. Tess is going to need labor coaches, and there’s no reason that can’t be both you and Kyle.”

Max just nodded. Michael wasn’t telling him anything he hadn’t told himself over and over. There was a part of him, a place deep inside, that was seething in anger and jealousy. It wasn’t like he wanted Tess as much as he wanted to control her, her body, her life and the baby. Max couldn’t...didn’t know where to put those dark, angry, violent thoughts and the possessiveness. It was like he was a stranger in his own skin. The Jonathan situation was just another indication of his conflicted emotions.

The moment Max had looked at Jonathan something sparked in his body. It was a sense of belonging, like Jonathan belonged to him. Ever since that first night when he first kissed Jonathan, it was like he marked the man and he was his...just like Tess. It made no sense. All Max knew was that it was wreaking havoc on his emotions. He needed to work it out in his mind before it was too late.