She didn’t bother talking to Xcor. She yanked the sleeve of her robe up to expose her wrist, scored her vein with her own fangs, and then put the source of strength and nutrients to Xcor’s mouth.

But he refused to part his lips. Even as the life force he so desperately needed wetted his mouth, he denied its entrance.

Mutely, he stared up at her and shook his head from side to side.

It reminded her of that moment when she had first met him under the maple tree in the meadow. He had tried to deny her then, too.

“No offense,” she muttered, “but fucking drink.”

She had no idea why Vishous had decided to spare the life of his enemy. But she was not about to argue with what seemed to be happening—or take the reprieve for granted. Hell, the Brother might well decide to change his mind again and come back with his gun. Or his dagger. Or reinforcements.

When Xcor as yet still refused her, she reached down with her free hand and pinched his nose hard. “If you love me, you will save yourself the now. Do not so willingly put your death on my conscience.”

As he just lay there, seemingly content to suffocate, she started to plot ways of prying his teeth open. Except then he gasped a little—and that was all it took.

A drop or two must have entered his mouth, because he moaned in a different way, his torso arching, his legs sawing as if a great need had struck him.

And then he let out a predatory hiss—

—and bit her so hard she had to hold back a curse.

Now he partook, great swallows draining her so fast she knew she had to be very careful. There was a good chance he could kill her by mistake, his hunger capable of overpowering every other instinct in him, including the one that wanted to protect her.

Dearest Virgin Scribe, she wished she knew what Vishous had planned for them—but sometimes in life, it was best not to look too far ahead. All she had to do right now was feed Xcor and keep him warm whilst Vishous came back with some kind of vehicle.

And after that? She did not know.

Brushing Xcor’s hair from his forehead, she met his crazed eyes and was struck by an intense need to pray. Giving into the reflex, she began to recite quatrains she had known since her birth up in the Sanctuary, the ancient, sacred words marching through her head, the rhythm of the Old Language forming a drumbeat that reverberated down in the center of her chest.

Too bad there was no one up there to hear them anymore. But what did it matter? Vishous was the only savior she and Xcor had—and God knew, she would take what she could get.

TWENTY-ONE

“Oh, I forgot,” Trez muttered. “iAm’s car is a stick.”

As he stood outside the staff exit of Sal’s, he frowned at the BMW M6 and tried to think how he was going to keep this take-me-to-Havers thing going—

The female who’d made him faint snatched the key fob out of his hands. “No problem. I’m good with a clutch.”

Therese clicked off the security alarm, opened the driver’s side, and slid into the leather seat like she owned the sports car. “Well, come on. I can’t put you in the passenger seat myself. That’s a job you’re going to have to do.”

Her smile was easy, but not simple. In fact, nothing about her was simple for him, not the way she moved, or the sound of her voice, or the fact that she filled out those black slacks of hers perfectly.

Just like Selena would have.

Oh, and yeah, iAm’s warning kept bugging him in his head: This is not your dead mate coming back to you.

With a curse, Trez went around the trunk of the sedan. As he got in, he looked over at the female. God, her profile was—

“Um, can you shut your door? This particular model has an anti-rolling mechanism. I won’t be able to go anywhere until you do—plus let’s face it, it’s about the draft. Brrr.”

Trez flushed and did the job with the handle. And then he tried to look relaxed as she started the engine, cut the fan down on the heater, and threw them in reverse. With a perfectly executed K-turn, they were off, weeding their way around to the main part of the lot and heading for the four lane road beyond.

“You’re going to have to tell me where to go.”

As she spoke, she looked so beautiful in the peachy glow of the dash, her straight nose, those full lips, that strong jaw, the stuff that he had been trying to re-create in 3-D from his 2-D memories.

He spoke without meaning to. Without intending to. “I’ve missed you—”

His voice cracked at the same moment she shot him a look of shock. “I’m sorry? What?”

Shit, what had just come out of his mouth?

“Ah … yeah, wow, I’m really not making sense at all over here.” He gave her an apologetic smile—that was really fucking sincere. “Maybe I really do need a doctor.”

As they came up the parking lot exit, she smiled once more. “Well, the immediate question is, do you want Google Maps? The nav system on this car? Or do you know where we’re headed.”

Trez got caught up in staring at her face again, and as the sight of her got wavy, he had to wipe his eyes in what he hoped was a quick move she wouldn’t notice.

“You really are hurt,” she murmured. “Do you need an ambulance?”

And that was when she touched him. It was, once again, a simple thing that was not simple at all: She just placed her warm, soft palm over the back of his hand, the one that was resting on his thigh—and in the process, gave him the chest equivalent of a heart attack.

“I should tell you to go,” he said hoarsely.

“Yup, I agree. Left or right?”

Closing his eyes, he told himself to pull his shit together and listen to what his brother had said. This female, whoever she was, was not his Selena. And it was grossly unfair to her, and to his mourning process, to interject himself into a stranger’s orbit simply because of some accident of appearance.

She had a slight Detroit accent, for godsakes, something Selena had obviously never had. And Selena had never worn her hair like that, or had clothes like that—

“What did you say your name was?” the female asked. “Do you want me to get your brother? Hello? Are you … have you passed out on me again?”

When he finally spoke, the words came out of him fast and sloppy—exactly the way he fumbled with the door mechanism and jumped out of the car: “I’m sorry. I gotta go. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry …”

As he stumbled back from the door, which he’d left open, he managed to catch a slick of ice with his heel—

And go ass-over-idiot for a second time in her presence, landing in a heap.

At least he kept consciousness this time, though.

Whoo-hoo, his ego crooned. Baby steps, you lame motherfucker, baby steps.

The female was out and around to him quicker than a breath, and as she slipped and slid, and then landed right on him, Trez wanted to scream.

He didn’t.

Nope. As she fell on top of him … he put his arms around her and fucking kissed her.

Therese hadn’t expected it. Not at all. As she lost her balance and went down right on the guy’s chest, her only thought was how long it was going to take to get back on her feet and run into the restaurant to find his brother.

Because, hello, as a pair of vampires, they were not calling 911. The last thing they needed were human medics showing up and taking him into a human hospital—where he’d get admitted, and knowing their luck, go up in flames when sunlight came through the window by his adjustable bed.

Except that whole get-brother idea didn’t happen. As she pushed against his pecs to lift her head, everything came to a crashing halt. Their eyes met, their breath caught—and then he slipped an arm around her waist, a hand onto her nape … and pulled her to his mouth.

Soft. His lips were so soft … and they trembled against hers, as if he were unsure of what he was doing or maybe affected by something monumental. His body was anything but weak, however. Underneath her, he was big, and he was hard, and she could feel the power emanating from him.

It was only when his tongue came out and licked at her, seeking to get inside, that Therese broke the contact.

She didn’t go far, though. She didn’t want to.

God … his eyes were amazing, and they were no longer black. They were shining an extraordinary peridot green, the light coming from them so bright she had to blink.