made no sense. She could have easily killed the guards and released her companion. Something kept her in check and made her stay. Maybe the key to gaining her cooperation was figuring out what. Was there some thorn he could remove to win her trust? A gesture, which might appease her? The notebook Lydia had ordered him to read lay on top of his bag. Maybe, just maybe…

Thinking he was crazy, he started to loosen the straps around the vampire’s arms. Probably be killed for his pains, he reflected. She looked up, not bothering to quash her surprise. “To test your reflexes,” he explained. Unfastening the heavy leather restraints from her legs, he held his breath, terrified one of the small, black-booted feet would crush his sternum. He tried not to tremble, sensing she’d pounce on his fear but she just stayed there watching him. Sizing him up perhaps? Evaluating him as an adversary… or a potential meal?

She didn’t bother to thank him when he finally freed her, accepting it perhaps as if it were her due. Rolling onto her side she pushed herself to her feet, languidly stretching her muscles like a sated leopard. He couldn’t help looking. Her small body was compact, but lushly curved, tits and ass filling out the black denim jeans and semi-sheer lacy top nicely. It telegraphed youth and fertility to his unwary libido.

She turned and caught his confounded stare. “Should I undress, Doctor?”

He steered his mind off the pictures her body prompted. “No. I’m only testing your reflexes.”

She looked pointedly at his crotch. “Yours seem to be in good working order.”

She stretched again then took a leisurely stroll around the perimeter of the cell, closing in a small circle as she moved toward him. Joe tensed for potential attack, calculating just how quickly he could go for the buzzer if she pounced. The odds didn’t look good.

A girlish giggle rippled from her. “Weird isn’t it? To know a woman could rip you to pieces? Don’t be frightened. I have better ways of vanquishing enemies.”

She shook out her thick hair as she moved toward him. Musky perfume grew strong in the air. His eyes strayed to her breasts again. He wanted to touch. Touch her? Shit, he wanted to fuck her. The thought horrified him but his body was in disagreement. Jean would laugh and say men would have sex with anything that moved.

But the way she moved… like something fluid, rippling around the small cell as if she had no bone or sinew, only one great long undulation of curve. It was inhuman. No human female no matter how graceful or seductive could move like this.

He had to look away or he was a dead man. Reaching down, he came up with the notebooks and held them out to her. Her kittenish attitude instantly evaporated. Now, she stood motionless, which was somehow much more inhuman and frightening than before. The texture of her skin was like smooth and lustrous stone, her eyes reflective brown-green gems. Only her hair retained its softness.

“How did you get these?”

“They were found in your knapsack.”

Pure malice twisted her features. “Surprised they didn’t check our mouths for gold.”

“Sorry?”

“Did you read them? Did you!”

“Only the first ten pages or so— obviously, these are private thoughts. It’s not right to read them without permission. Here, take them.”

Her face smoothed out again, like a shape-shifting alien in a sci-fi movie, suddenly not expressing any visible emotion. After a moment she reached out to take the notebooks. Turning her back on him, she crossed to the bed, tucking them under the pillow. As she turned to face him musky perfume hit him again.

Now he realized what it was. A pheromone, like an insect would use to lure prey. A usually unperceived olfactory cue some species attracted potential mates with, or as in this case, lunch. Every time she shook her hair back, the scent grew stronger, released there, maybe through a gland, maybe through the pores. Amazing…

His mind tangled for a moment in waves of chestnut brown. He shook himself out of it. She was controlling him with the scent. He’d read a story once as a kid, about Lamia, female demons with perfumed hair that seduced and drained the life force from their male victims. It couldn’t be true.

She crossed her arms and leaned against the wall. “You’re the neurologist?”

“Neuroscientist,” he corrected.

“First they send a shrink, then you. Think I’m crazy?”

“You’re quite lucid,” he answered. “But Dr. Loy feels there may be