Kierse sat. What else could she do?
Monsters were real. He was a monster. Technically, he was well within his rights to kill her for invading his home. If he wanted to talk, then she would talk. He wasn't the first monster she'd dealt with, and she was determined he wouldn't be the last.
Monster rights were still a new concept. It had only been three years since the war ended and the Treaty was signed. Before that, she never would have imagined humans and monsters could come to an accord.
The war had started when Coraline LeMort was murdered in cold blood. She had been a vampire visionary, leading the charge to end the feud between vampires and werewolves, backed by an army willing to enforce her words. When a rogue werewolf publicly murdered her, it was the spark that lit the world on fire. Her death dragged every monster out of hiding and ignited the Monster War. Vampires and werewolves became even more divided, and the other monsters chose sides.
It got so bad that monsters and humans alike were starving. Then the Coraline Convention was called. Delegations from each monster race, along with the United Nations, agreed to end the killing and restore order. The result was the signing of the Monster Treaty. It placed limitations on all monsters, established laws for humans and monsters to coexist, and ensured lasting peace for humankind. They even built a statue of Coraline in front of the Metropolitan Museum of Art to commemorate the Treaty.
The world was finally beginning to recover from the decade-long reign of terror, but that didn't mean every monster agreed with the peace.
And it didn't mean Kierse was going to survive this altercation.
"Now, let's start with your name," he said.
"Why don't we start with yours?"
"Surely you know the name of the man you're robbing." His smile suggested otherwise. He knew she didn't know who he was. He clearly wasn't the fake John Smith who owned the place on paper.
"Man?" she asked.
"Your name," he repeated gruffly.
"Kierse," she spat. "My name is Kierse."
"Is that short for Kirsten?"
She narrowed her eyes. "No," she snapped. "It's like Pierce, but with a K."
"Ah." He hadn't taken a seat. He still stood a few feet away, looming over her with eyes like impenetrable fire. "You may call me Graves."
"Graves?" she asked. "Like the thing you crawled out of?"
"Some do."
"You're not human," she accused.
He stared straight through her. "No, I'm not."
She wanted to ask what kind of monster he was, but she wouldn't give him the satisfaction. He clearly wanted her to ask. He wanted her to find out what side of the Treaty he was on and whether or not he was going to kill her.
"You don't look like much," he finally said when she didn't give in.
She gritted her teeth. "Appearances can be deceiving."
He leveled her with an imperious gaze. "So, who are you?"
"You already know that. The person here to rob you."
"Ah, perhaps."
He slid his hand out of his pocket and produced the ring she had just risked her life to retrieve. She stared at it, agog. How had he gotten it off her? It had been secured in a secret inner pocket on the left side of her jacket. He hadn't frisked her. He hadn't even gone looking for it. But she only let surprise show on her face for an instant before returning to her cocky, disinterested veneer.
"A lot of trouble for one ring," he said, twirling it between his fingers like a coin.
"If you say so."
"How did you get inside my home?" Graves asked, pocketing the ring once more.
She watched carefully as he put the ring away so she knew where to retrieve it later. "Through the window."
"Which window?"
"The one in the study."
He pursed his lips and glanced away, as if contemplating the study very closely. No, almost as if he could see into the study beyond and retrace her steps. But of course, he couldn't do that. No monster she knew of had that ability.
"How did you get past the security system?"
She nearly barked a laugh. "It was turned off."
Graves's head whipped toward her. "It certainly was not."
"Maybe you should check it again, then."
"I am the security," he all but growled.
"Then you're shit at it."
He smirked again. "Says the girl I caught without breaking a sweat."
"Woman," she bit back.
He conceded the point. "How old are you, exactly?"
"Don't you know it's rude to ask?"
He just arched an eyebrow, as if to say *you agreed to answer my questions.*
She blew out a breath. "Twenty-five. Not much younger than you."
"Appearances can be deceiving," he said, throwing her words back at her as he strode casually to a wet bar and poured himself a drink.
He brought the glass back over and offered it to her. Drinking with the enemy was a bad, bad idea. But either way, she couldn't take it. Not with her shoulder in this condition.
"Oh, my apologies." He looked smug as he said it.
He set the drink down. Then, with reflexes she could hardly track, he grasped her shoulder and knocked it back into place. No warning. Just perfect precision and a hard pop. She doubled over as pain lanced down her arm. She barely kept herself from crying out.
"Better?"
She cleared her throat. "Can we just finish this interrogation?"
"Is that what we're doing?" He held the drink out to her again and, when she still refused to take it, knocked back half of it. "Interrogations used to be a lot more fun." Her eyes widened. What did that mean? "Fine. Who sent you?"
"I don't give out names," she told him. "I can't answer questions that are going to ruin my career."
He leaned back against the table and crossed his arms. "Do you think that is the worst that will happen if you don't answer my questions?"
She swallowed. It was a threat. He'd probably kill her. He was capable of it. He could end her existence at his leisure. By the Monster Treaty terms, he'd even get away with it. The fact that he hadn't meant he needed something from her. Hence the line of questioning. She just didn't know what he needed.
She hated breaking her rules. She'd promised herself she'd never out a client. But if it was between her life and some dick billionaire who didn't care about her, self-preservation kicked in fast and hard.
"Gregory Amberdash."
Graves's eyebrows rose slightly. That wasn't the answer he had been expecting. "The wraith?" The ring magically reappeared in his hand. "Who is Amberdash working for?"
"That's above my pay grade."
He glanced back at her as if remembering that she was involved. "You will find out who he is working for."
Kierse huffed a laugh. "No, I won't. That wasn't part of our deal. And anyway, he'd never tell me. That's not how he works." She lifted herself off the velvet chair in defiance of his other edict. She only wobbled slightly as she regained her balance. "I've answered your questions. I'm not going to do your dirty work. Ask Amberdash yourself."
Graves sighed and then shook his head once. He seemed frustrated that she wasn't groveling for her life and offering to do whatever he asked just because he hadn't killed her yet.
"You are going to make me do this the hard way, aren't you?"
"Just call the cops. We're on a first-name basis. Won't do a damn thing." There wasn't a jail in New York that could keep her locked away.
He grinned then. "I have no intention of alerting the authorities. My methods are much more... effective."
Her stomach twisted. "Your methods?"
Graves didn't respond. He just began to methodically remove his black gloves. He pulled each finger individually, slipping the material out of place before carefully tugging the leather forward. She caught a glimpse of the dark lines of a tattoo circling his wrists before he tugged the cuffs of his suit down. His hands were large, with long, slender fingers. She didn't know much about music, but the pianists she had seen in clubs had fingers just like that. Made to grace the keys and hypnotize a melody out of hidden strings. She had no idea why he covered them in gloves in his own home.
"Come here," he commanded with all the blunt force of a car crash.
But she refused to budge. She'd been on the receiving end of demanding men before in her life. She'd learned her lesson. She was no longer a sapling constantly moved by the next heavy breeze. She was a mountain, immovable.
He saw her defiance. The *no* that lingered in the air unsaid.
It infuriated him. This man—this monster—was used to incalculable respect. She could see it all over him. Power was the only way to test a person's character. She found him wanting.
He stepped forward then. Two quick strides that brought him directly before her. She tilted her head up to read the clouds roiling through those piercing gray eyes.
"Fine," he ground out.
He jerked the zipper of her jacket down, exposing her neck, and her heart sank. *Fuck, he's a vampire—and he's about to drain me.* She opened her mouth to protest but stopped when she got a look at his surprised face. He was staring at her necklace with bald interest.
"A wren." His gaze swept back up to hers. A cruel smile curled on his lips. "Interesting."
"Why?" she asked, protective of the necklace that was her most prized possession. The only thing she had left of her parents.
He didn't answer. Just slowly, ever so slowly, brought his hand up and pressed the tip of his index finger to the spot right behind her ear. With the grace of a predator toying with its food, he dragged the finger softly down the pulse in her throat. She refused to shiver, though her heartbeat had skyrocketed at the barest touch. Her body came alive.
She'd spent her entire life hating vampires, but suddenly she understood how some humans volunteered to be fed from. She was in pain and abjectly frightened of what was to come, but she couldn't move if she had wanted to.
His finger reached the hollow opening between her collarbones and trailed back up again. Then he wrapped his entire hand around her throat, caging her there. He had command. He had all the power. She could see the hunger in his features.
She swallowed back her own confusion and desire and fits of anger. As if he could touch her like this. As if he had her permission. How dare he! Yet, she didn't move away. Her body thrummed in response. Like met like. Power met power.
He leaned forward. And for one sharp moment, she thought he meant to kiss her. But he stilled, staring deep into her eyes. He shook his head once. Something like surprise hit his features.
"What are you?" he whispered.