“I’m sorry,” she whispered as she closed the locket and handed it back to him.

Her bare skin accidentally brushed his, and his constant pain fled for that single, brief moment. And there was a flash of something else—something he couldn’t quite recognize—as if a curtain had been parted for a split second, only to fall back into place before his eyes had time to focus. Then her touch was gone, and agony came crashing back.

He braced himself for its return, but it was always worse than it had been before. Every time he stopped touching her, the pain was more intense, more demanding. It sliced through his skin, cutting deep. It ground at his bones and crushed his organs. His blood caught fire, scorching his veins as his entire world lit up with agony. It took every ounce of discipline and self-control not to draw his blade and lash out at the one who’d hurt him. Jackie. He could kill her so easily. It wouldn’t even take any effort at all to break her slender neck so she could never again hurt him.

The monster in him cheered at the idea, banging at its bars. One moment of freedom. That’s all the beast needed to make the pain stop.

He locked his knees, gritted his teeth, and tried to remember to breathe through the pain, but with lightning bouncing around inside his skull, thought was nearly impossible.

Jackie gasped. “I keep forgetting about that,” she said. “I’m so sorry.”

Her words were a hollow echo at the end of a long tunnel. The pain bore down on him, making everything else inconsequential. All he could think about was making it stop. Forcing her to make it stop.

He reached for her blindly, knowing that only she could end this torment. His fingers found smooth fabric. Her sleeves. He quested up until he found the warmth of her neck and face.

Instantly, the agony eased, as if he’d been doused in cool water, washing it all away. He was left feeling buoyant, light. The monster that was his constant companion quieted, no longer screaming and pounding at his insides. He felt…at peace for the first time in years, perhaps decades.

He couldn’t let her take that away, sending him spiraling back inside the pain. If she did, he wasn’t sure he could remember not to kill her.

Iain’s vision had not yet returned, so he couldn’t read her face. He pulled her tight against his chest, spearing his fingers through her hair to hold her in place. He could feel her rapid breathing washing out over his arm, feel her frantic heartbeat beating against his chest.

He’d scared her.

Something faint fluttered inside of him—some feeling he’d lost long ago. He didn’t like her fear. He liked even less that he’d been the one to cause it. He wished he could take her fear away and give her some sense of happiness and safety.

“I won’t hurt you,” he said, hoping it was true. He couldn’t think of what else he could say to make her feel better. He couldn’t stop touching her. Not yet, not with his pain lurking, huge and terrifying.

“Let me go,” she said, but it wasn’t a command. Her voice was weak and breathless.

“I will. Just give me a minute. Please.” He needed time to regain control and ensure that his beast was safely caged.

He felt her give a tentative nod. He could smell the shampoo she’d used, along with something else. He dragged the scent into himself, trying to figure out what it was, and why he found it so compelling.

Slowly, his sight returned. At first it was only gray, but then the color returned, too, as his field of vision expanded.

He spotted their reflection in the mirrored closet doors and froze. She was leaning into him, as if he’d pulled her off-balance. Her cheek was pressed to his chest, and her whole body was shaking. One hand was splayed on his shoulder, and the other was wrapped around his biceps, against his bare skin. Her fingers tightened, kneading his muscles. Tingling heat bubbled out from everywhere skin touched skin, and the only thought he could muster was what it would be like to get the two of them naked and rubbing against each other.

He could see her face clearly in the mirror. Her lips were parted, and her gaze was focused on where her hand met his skin. Her eyes were huge and dark, haunted by a look of such longing that he instantly wanted to give her whatever it was she needed. A deep blush stained her cheeks, spreading down to her throat.

He’d been with a lot of women over the years, and he knew what they looked like when they were aroused. And Jackie was definitely that.

Iain felt his cock stir, twitching beneath his jeans. Shock hammered into him, stealing his breath.

He hadn’t gotten hard in decades.

And then he realized something else. Since the moment he’d touched her, he’d begun to feel again. Regret, lust, surprise. Those things had been long dead in him, but one touch from Jackie and those lost things began to come back.

Hope. Blessed, vital hope budded inside, barely flickering with life. Maybe she could save him.

She caught his gaze in the mirror. A look of horror crossed her face and she shoved herself away, breaking contact.

Pain exploded in a fiery blast. Those fleeting emotions he’d felt were incinerated in a split second, and all that was left was the enraged monster breaking out of its cage, ready to kill.

He took a step toward her, but fell to his knees as the agony bore down on him. Then suddenly, it all went away. Everything went away.

Chapter 6

It was not even sunset, and Tynan was already overwhelmed. Nicholas’s stab wound hadn’t been bad, and he’d paid for his healing and the removal of his memory in blood, but Grace’s condition had deteriorated in the past few hours, and now Tori had seemingly become homicidal. And all of it was his problem to fix.

He had to make a quick stop by Grace’s room before going to see to Tori. When he entered, he found Torr bowed at her bedside, cradling her hand in his. The man rarely left her, and his guilt was beginning to hang on him, eating him away bit by bit. Tynan could sense the decay of his condition, both in his appearance as well as in each sluggish movement of his body.

“You should go and rest,” said Tynan.

Torr turned around, his eyes rimmed with red and sunken with fatigue. “Don’t,” was all he said.

“Fine. If you want to throw away the gift she gave you, then so be it. It’s your life to discard as you see fit.”

“I’m staying with her.”

Tynan didn’t bother checking the output of the machines breathing for Grace. He simply laid his hand on her head and let her body speak to him.

She was still in there, fighting. She hadn’t given up. Neither had Torr. If sheer force of will could keep someone alive, then perhaps Grace could hang on for another day or two.

There was no way to make this easier on the Theronai. “I’ve done all I can.”

Torr shot to his feet. “No. You can’t give up on her.”

“I haven’t given up on anyone. I’ve tried everything I know to do for her. I swear I have. No human medicine or Sanguinar magic is going to sustain her for long. Her body is simply too weak. You have to let her go. She’s holding on for you, protecting you from your grief.”

Torr’s mouth moved as if struggling not to spit out something vile. “I’ll go find the demon that caused this. Then you can create some kind of antivenom.”

“You’ve looked. Others have looked. No one has seen even a hint of the creature. And even if you did find one, it wouldn’t matter. She’s too far gone.”

“She’s still here. That’s all that matters.”

“She’s here because of you. Do you really think she can rest in peace if she knows you’re suffering? She gave her life to save yours. That kind of love is rare, and it’s the only thing keeping her alive now.”

Torr swallowed and tears brimmed in his eyes. “You’re telling me that I’m prolonging her suffering?”

If Tynan sugarcoated it, Torr would never listen. The man was beyond stubborn. Infuriatingly so. “Yes. She’s clinging to life for you. You must let her go. Holding her here, forcing her to take breath after breath from that machine so that you don’t have to feel guilty, is selfish.”

Tears slid down Torr’s face. He didn’t even try to hide them. “I can’t lose her.”

“You already have. There’s nothing anyone can do. I’m sorry.”

“I can’t,” said Torr, backing away, holding his hands up as if to ward off an attacker. “I can’t let her go.” He sounded uncertain, as if he was finally beginning to accept the eventuality of Grace’s death.

“One of us will do it. We’ll turn off the machines.”

Torr surged forward, taking a threatening step toward Tynan. “No! I will fucking kill anyone who does that to her. Do you hear me?”

Tynan knew when it was time to back off. He didn’t need his neck broken twice for that lesson to set in. “I understand. No one will do anything without your permission, but neither will I expend any more precious blood on her behalf. There simply isn’t enough to go around.”

Torr nodded tightly. “Go. I want to be alone with her. While I can.”

Tynan left, grieving for what they were about to lose. Not only Grace, but Torr. He was no longer the man he’d once been. Grief had weakened him, drawn him thin enough to snap.

One more casualty of war—one Tynan had no time to dwell upon. It was Tori’s turn for his attention, and she was the one he had to save. Theronai women were far too precious to lose, even ones who had no hope of happiness. Or possibly even sanity.

He locked his dark thoughts away and did what needed to be done, just as always.

The door to the suite Paul and Andra shared with Tori was open. The moment he neared, he smelled blood. Fresh. Powerful.

Hunger rose within him, widening its jaws. There wasn’t enough Athanasian blood left on Earth to feed his kind. The path between Earth and Athanasia had once been wide-open, allowing passage between worlds. But now the gate was shut and Earth was cut off from the Athanasian blood that fueled the Sanguinar. Small traces of ancient blood had been passed down from one human generation to another, leaving behind the blooded humans from which he fed, but their blood alone wasn’t enough. The healing he did, his work to restore the fertility of the male Theronai, drew too much power from him, leaving him in constant, aching hunger. The only time he could remember being truly full was when one of the Athanasian princes had come through the gate and shared his blood.

That gift had been a miracle—one that had saved Tynan from sending himself off to sleep for decades. It had allowed him to continue his work, but he couldn’t keep it all to himself. There were others of his kind, helpless and asleep beneath Dabyr, depending on him and his brothers to provide for them. Most of what he’d received he’d given to them, saving only what was necessary to complete his work.

The smell of that blood now drove him forward, his mouth watering for a taste of that power. He entered one of the bedrooms and found Paul holding Tori in his lap, his arms and one leg pinning her body against his. His shoulder was bleeding from a set of ragged teeth marks left in his skin. That was the blood Tynan had smelled.

Andra knelt in front of her restrained sister, trying to talk some sense into her. “You can’t leave, baby. They’ll find you and take you away from me.”