The Seer

Novella 7, New Vampire Disorder

Marie Johnston

The Seer © 2018 by Lisa Elijah

Developmental and Copy Editing by Razor Sharp Editing

Proofreading by HME Editing

Cover by P and N Graphics

The characters, places, and events in this story are fictional. Any similarities to real people, places, or events are coincidental and unintentional.

Over a century old, Isabelle is under lock and key—and the watchful eye of her burly guard, Scurn. Her premonitions make her a target, but she’s no good to her people in hiding, watching reruns of reality TV. And crawling through ductwork to escape supervision is getting old. So when she gets a vision of another seer like her, one who’s still a child and in danger, Isabelle has to find her.

After so many years protecting her, Scurn discovers Isabelle missing within minutes—only to be fired from his duty as her guard. Job or no job, he swore an oath and he’s not leaving her side. As they embark on a search and rescue mission together, the boundaries between them drop. Closer than ever, she and Scurn could make a formidable pair…if they can get past the traumatic history between them.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

About the Author

To my kiddos. You like being around me when I can’t stand being around myself.

For new release updates, chapter sneak peeks, and exclusive quarterly short stories, sign up for Marie’s newsletter and receive download links for the book that started it all, Fever Claim, and three short stories of characters from the series.

Chapter One

“Those from below come up, and those from above go down below.”

Isabelle Devereux sang as she dusted her bookshelves. She plucked one off the shelf and stroked the spine. “My beloved books. You don’t expect anything from me, do you?”

She put her vintage copy of Pride and Prejudice and Zombies back and ran her rag along the edge. Every day for over a century, she’d dusted this bookshelf.

It was the best time to talk to herself.

“I cannot be one. I cannot be the one. But one at a time.” She switched to a hum. I cannot be one. I cannot be the one.

I am not one.

Isabelle gasped and dropped her duster. That was a new premonition.

Although, were they really premonitions if she knew them to have happened? They were the antonym of premonition. Yet, they weren’t visions. They came as words. Statements in her head. No, vision wasn’t correct either.

It was a common debate she had with Scurn.

That frustrating male.

She tore her mind off her bodyguard, a task that was getting harder to do as the years passed. She bent and snatched her rag.

I am not the only one.

She straightened, her eyes wide. There was another like her.

No. Nononononono. That poor soul.

Isabelle chewed her lip. Another one. Another one.

Another seer out there like her. How soon before someone figured out what he or she was?

Isabelle cocked her head and concentrated. A female. Five years old.

At five, a kid could talk. At five, a kid wouldn’t know not to say what came to mind. At five, the child would be vulnerable. At five, the child’s family wouldn’t know the danger they were in.

Isabelle had to help her.

Darting into her room, she glanced down at herself. Her shift and slippers weren’t going to cut it. If she was to leave the compound undetected, again, she needed to change into her cat burglar outfit.

She didn’t steal anything—usually. But if she were to intentionally, or sometimes unintentionally, take something, this was the outfit to do it in. It was the only time she wore pants and…she hadn’t come up with a better name.

Digging through her drawers, she pulled out black leggings and a black turtleneck. In her closet, she crawled around on her hands and knees until she found her soft suede black boots.

She yanked off her pale-yellow shift, tossed it to the floor, and threw on her burglar outfit. It got dusty crawling through her escape-without-notice route—the ductwork. Usually after a good brushing off and a few sneezes, she was fine.

Too bad she couldn’t go out the front door like everyone else under this roof. She could, but there’d be questions and chaperones and doubtful glances. The compound was full of warriors who were the Synod’s personal demon-fighting team. She wasn’t one of them, and while they no longer thought she was crazy per se, they didn’t believe she was in full possession of her faculties either.

She said what was on her mind and if they couldn’t figure it out, then she wasn’t going to take the time to explain when there was a five-hour Bachelor finale to catch up on.

She stopped in her tiny kitchen first and grabbed a drink of water. As she crossed to the fridge, she caught her reflection.

Oh. Her hair.

It wouldn’t do to have it in her face, and it wasn’t dark enough of a brown to blend into the shadows. She went to the bathroom and tied her long hair into a topknot. Treading to the guest room, she went straight for the chair she kept under the vent opening. The compound had been built for industrial use and it had industrial-sized bones to go with it.

Very fortuitous for her.

She put her foot on the chair to jump but caught her reflection again.

Right. Her hair.

Going back to her room, she went for a different dresser drawer. Her black stocking hat was inside. She fitted it over her head.

This time, she took a second to evaluate herself in the mirror. The placard above caught her eye.

Where’s your wallet?

Oh yes. Money. It used to be the root of evil for her kind, but demons had rightfully taken that spot. Hard to be more evil than a demon.

She’d told her brother and his team once, Money is now rootless. The blank looks she’d gotten would’ve been infuriating, but they’d all found out soon enough when the demon infestation became obvious.

She dug through the end table she kept by the chair to find her black satchel. If she ever got a visitor other than her brother, all they’d see was a stark room with an end table, a mirror, and a chair. They’d look no farther, thinking it was a product of her kookiness.

And it was, but not in the way they assumed.

The few times Scurn had stepped into her apartment, he’d never said anything. He never did. He should be the worst offender of all, only he blamed himself for her oddball nature, but he actually heard her—with more than his ears.

She’d told him once “The thing about nature is that it is nature.” He’d just shaken his head, and she’d waited for a follow-up inquiry that never came. Had he figured out she was talking about balance and how balancing itself was what nature did best? Or did he no longer care what she meant? Or was he just messing with her and pretending not to care?

That male. Made her blood boil.

But what was the heat source? Anger? Frustration? It couldn’t be another feeling, one that left her breathless—

I get to choose. Scurn was not her choice. Totally not. He would be the first to go home without a rose.

She scowled and stared at the satchel in her hand. Her world without Scurn… Shaking her head, she brushed off the thought. The night wasn’t getting any younger.

She produced a small switchblade from her wallet and unscrewed the already loose fastenings around the vent. Since moving to the compound, she’d gone through this routine a few times each year. Except during the last year, the frequency had increased to a few times a month. Life was much more exciting on the other side of this grate.

Easy access to the ductwork was the main reason she’d picked this apartment. When they’d first moved to the compound, it had been her and Demetrius and the other five on his team. He’d had first pick. Her brother was across the hall, but he was hardly around. He could come and go without question, but oh, would she get questioned if they discovered her absence. If only the first question wouldn’t be about her ability or her sanity.

She laid the rectangle of metal by the chair and hauled herself into the vent. The main drawback of her plan was that it was almost impossible to get the vent screwed back on from inside. It was the biggest risk she took when she ventured out.

But it was a small risk compared to what that child would face if her parents didn’t understand the danger and talked to others about the girl’s special talents.

Isabelle had a mission. She was going to give that girl’s parents a firm talking-to and that would be that.

It should only take a night, and no one would know she was gone.

Though she had to find the child first. One whose identity she didn’t know. One among the hundreds of thousands in Freemont.

Yes, it should only take a night.

***

Each year that ticked by brought with it more restlessness. There was more to life than staring at the door of a young female.

Scurn snorted. Young. She was a full-grown adult, had been for a while, a fact he had trouble ignoring more and more.

When she would peek from behind a crack in her apartment door, he’d notice how bright her pale green eyes were and how cultured her voice had grown. The occasions she scooted out to sit with her back against the wall and her knees drawn to her chest, the curve of her hips couldn’t be hidden. The billowy dresses she wore, “shifts” she called them, showed little but suggested the body underneath would be as arresting as Isabelle’s face.

Scurn adjusted his shoulders and tried to find something else to think about. That was the danger of his self-appointed position as Isabelle’s bodyguard. He stood post. No radio. No TV. Just her periodic chats and his memories.

Those memories were the worst. They haunted him with images of Isabelle’s broken body, the streaks of her blood on the floor staining his brain. All my fault.

He’d dedicated himself to her that day. One hundred five years, three months, and two days ago. Sometimes he counted the seconds. It gave him something to do.

He dropped and banged out twenty push-ups and jumped back up, barely breathing heavily. A few burpees and his heart sped up another couple of beats per minute. He’d run in place, but that’d look stupid as fuck.

Naps were never an option. Sleep was for those who weren’t paying penitence for their past.

But he was tired. Years of sleeping sitting up or stretched out on the floor had taken a toll, no matter how guilty he felt.

What was she doing in there?

Had she remembered to eat today? He often had to remind her. When she did cook, she brought him a plate. Sometimes the food was excellent; other times he couldn’t gut through the charred bits. What did she do in there to distract her so much?

She hadn’t popped out tonight yet, either. Should he remind her to eat?

He should remind her to eat.

His pulse sped up. Yeah. Minutes of physical exercise hadn’t had the effect on his heart rate that one thought of seeing her did. It was getting difficult to control his all-too-male reaction around her. She didn’t deserve his attentions. He’d made her suffer enough.

He listened to the goings-on around him. The compound bustled with all the new people living under the roof and the renovations taking place to accommodate them. But Isabelle’s apartment was in a secluded area and no one was coming. Demetrius and Calli lived across the hall but had left their apartment an hour ago.

Scurn crossed to Isabelle’s door and knocked. It wasn’t unusual to knock two or three times before getting an answer. Sometimes she made him wait for a commercial, even though she recorded her favorite shows.

“Isabelle?” He knocked again. “Have you eaten since you woke?”

He waited a minute and stretched. He wore the same clothing Demetrius and his team did, black tactical pants and a long-sleeved black tech shirt. He carried fewer weapons than the others. Adjusting the ones he did wear on the belt around his waist, he frowned.

Rapping on the door, he barked, “Isabelle.”

She didn’t answer.

He let himself in. Maybe she was still asleep. One evening, he’d awoken on the floor of the corridor outside her apartment and she had been asleep across from him, her arm curled as a pillow for her head. Her lovely feminine shape had refused to be shadowed in the soft hall lighting. He’d stared at her for far too long before he’d cleared his throat five times to wake her up.

A guy could get used to those exotic eyes opening up to him each evening.

The place was quiet. The silence that of an empty apartment.

He stepped inside. “Isabelle?”

A glass sat on the counter. No plates. She’d forgotten to eat.

A dusting rag lay on the floor and her bedroom door was hanging open. He drifted into her bedroom, trying not to feel like a pervert for spying in such an intimate place. Perhaps it was not having a bedroom of his own for over a century that made his presence feel so much more intrusive.

Her vanilla-citrus scent surrounded him as he surveyed the area. Two drawers hung open and shoes scattered the floor of her closet. She never wore shoes.

“Isabelle?” It was useless. No one was here, but he couldn’t help the pleasure saying her name gave him. When had the guilt left his every thought of her?

Where else could she be? He had to search the place before he called Demetrius to admit he’d lost the guy’s sister. Scurn went to the guest bedroom next and stopped. A chair was placed under a gaping black hole in the ceiling. The drawer was open in the end table by the mirror, and the vent’s cover rested against the legs of the chair.

“What the ever-loving hell, Isabelle?” he muttered. He crossed to the opening and peered up.

Isabelle’s scent was strong in this room, too. Vanilla citrus was as ingrained in his smell receptors as the smell of her blood that one fateful night.

He ran a hand over his bare scalp. Isabelle always said I see myself in you and he never asked if she meant that she was the motivation behind every decision he made, or if she just saw her reflection in his bald head. He didn’t want to know.

Had she snuck out? And why? She could leave whenever she wanted. Scurn would clear it with Demetrius, find clothing for them both to blend into modern society, and accompany her.

Was it him she didn’t want with her?

A sharp pain stabbed his chest. He reprimanded himself. Just because he’d given up his whole life for her didn’t mean she was obligated to him.

On that note, she could demand he leave her be forever and he’d be gone. Demetrius was more than capable of finding a new guard.

Scurn’s fangs throbbed. He didn’t want to be dismissed. It was his duty and she’d never protested his presence. Those first few years after the attack on her, she’d start shaking whenever she looked at him, yet she’d never asked him to leave. Her parents had. Many times. But after the attack on her life, he’d parked himself outside her door and refused to move. The rest of the family had been immersed in their own healing, as well as managing their panicked staff, otherwise Scurn would’ve been killed or booted within the hour.

And he wouldn’t have protested. He’d deserved either one. But they’d all needed protection that night and for several nights thereafter, and Scurn had seized the job. It helped that he’d been the only one around. The Devereuxes had come to rely on him more and more each year after.

Scurn had his phone out to text Demetrius, but he only stared at the black screen. It’d been assigned to him, just like his weapons. A tool to use just in case. This was the first time he’d ever really needed to use it beyond the hours of Clash of Clans he played on it.

He inhaled. There was no scent of another; therefore, he had no reason to think she’d been abducted. Would he needlessly worry the others if he called now? Isabelle was an adult. And it didn’t shock him that she used a quirky exit rather than the front door.

But she was a closeted vampire, unused to the ways of the world. She knew of pain and cruelty, but did she know about pickpockets and sex traffickers and…how to pay an Uber driver?

Did he? Since he’d been sequestered to her side, he only ventured into the world to feed, and each time he couldn’t wait to return to the world he knew. The speed of cars increased every time he went out, the drivers looking like they were fresh off the milk bottle. Then there were the lights and the noises when nights used to be dark and quiet in the human world. It simultaneously fascinated and terrified him. Freemont was like every other city; it either lived or died, and Freemont was thriving.

He narrowed his eyes on the vent opening. How often had she been doing this?

A slow boil burned through his blood. Isabelle had never told him how she fed. Who had she been feeding from? What if she didn’t want him along because she’d met a male and was exploring the pleasures of the body?

He snarled. It was just his protective instinct. He should vet the people who surrounded her. She was unique, and in a way that there’d be a line of vampires seeking to use her for their gain.

He shoved his phone back into his pocket and hauled himself through the vent. Her scent was a beacon. He’d find her, and this time, he might even demand an explanation.

Chapter Two

Isabelle flashed to the manor she’d grown up in. Mother and Father were home, but she didn’t go inside. They’d just worry about her and call Demetrius or Scurn to ask if they knew she was out. Like she was a toy poodle to coddle.

She’d always wanted a dog. Not many vampires she knew owned pets. The short life spans of animals probably highlighted how inexorably long vampires lived.

Long lives will be the downfall of the race. Rule like the tomorrows are limited.

She caught herself staring at the stark, brick manor. It was spring and the ivy hadn’t yet filled in the south side of the house. The lights on the first floor were on. It was nearing the middle of the night. Did her parents still like to sit and read the paper?

An image of Father in his brown house shoes, slacks, and black suspenders came to mind. Mother would be in a gown. She fancied the light, long ones from the last century that resembled the shifts Isabelle favored. Her lips twitched. She’d gotten her love of TV and movies from Mother. The first movie vixen’s style had been readily adopted by Madame Devereux. Did Mother still watch black-and-white movies? Did she know what streaming was?

Wouldn’t it be fun to watch a Real Housewives of Anywhere USA with Mother and comment on the clothing and antics?

Isabelle’s smile died. One does not watch television with a Fabergé egg.

She ground her teeth together. She was not a poodle or an egg. And she wasn’t here to see her parents. It was an orientation point, nothing more.

Where to next? Closing her eyes, she inhaled and concentrated. Inhale. Her senses were flooded with life, ready to spring forward from the ground, the trees, and the vines along the house. Soon it’d all erupt into a green frenzy of rapidly growing cells soaking up sunlight and nutrition. Exhale. Five months later, it’d be dying all over again.

Her kind wasn’t much different. When they were injured, life could drain from them, but given time they bounced back.

That night when she was ten years old, her life had been draining out of her. A stake had impaled her chest, missing her heart by a millimeter.

Her neck had been the next target.

She shook herself. She’d bounced back, and she needed to concentrate on another life, sift through the information that bombarded her to find the girl.

Another inhale. The smells that flooded her warmed her from the inside out. Strength. Determination. Woodsy leather.

Her eyes flew open. “He finds me.”

“Thankfully because she goes to the obvious place first.”

She resisted a shudder at his deep timbre. They talked all the time, but she could usually prepare herself first, little pep talks outside the door as she convinced herself she could chitty-chat with him without tongue-tying herself over lustful thoughts.

Perhaps she shouldn’t have bought the three Fifty Shades of Grey movies…after she’d read the books. Somehow her visions left her alone when she was nose-deep in a climax scene.

“What are you doing, Isabelle?” Curiosity mixed with wariness and apprehension in Scurn’s tone. Did he fear what she was going to say?

“Have you told my brother I’m gone?”

“No. I didn’t detect trouble. And you’re an adult.”

So he’d noticed. She couldn’t tell if he still saw the broken child she’d been over the grown female she was now. He’d always been a fearsome male, terrifying when she was younger. He was thrilling and scary for a much different reason now.

“What are you wearing?” He circled her, his usually dark eyes pitch-black in the night. Moonlight mingled with shadows on his scalp.

Smooth and hot? She’d imagined running her fingers over his head hundreds of time. Thousands since they’d been together so long. “My cat burglar outfit.”

His eyes widened.

“I’m not a cat. Or a burglar. Or an egg, or a dog.”

A dark brow lifted and his gaze swept down to her feet and lingered on the way back to her face. “No. You’re not.”

Her breath caught in her throat. She gave a dainty cough. “If you will excuse me,” she said. “I have work to do.”

“Are you going to see them?” he asked quietly. His gaze strayed to the imposing brick manor.

“It hurts” was all she had to say. They saw her as a delicate shell. The way they treated her after her attack had been fine—for after the attack. Her ability to move on had almost not moved an inch until she’d confessed to Scurn that she was suffocating under their constant coddling. He’d talked to Demetrius, and as soon as the compound had been acquired and readied for habitation, they’d moved in.

Scurn nodded and glanced at the house. What was he remembering? “You don’t have to tell me anything, but please let me go with you.”

“What was one has become two.” She met his gaze, and for once, she explained. Night wouldn’t last forever and she liked that Scurn didn’t pressure her for explanations, or ignore her. “There are two of me.”

“Two of you, or another like you?” Scurn did what many didn’t—he asked clarifying questions. Others shrugged and rolled their eyes and muttered “whatever.” A few decades of that and perhaps she’d gotten a little obstinate about her explanations.

“Like me. Like I was. Young. Her parents don’t understand.”

“You want them to.”

Isabelle stared him in the eye. “I want them to shut their mouths before their child is targeted.”

Color leeched from his face. “Hellfire. She could be kidnapped and used.”

“Unlucky in death,” she agreed. Isabelle used to think that about herself once. Unlucky in death, but she’d gotten the suffering that had come with it. Yet she’d survived and was grateful.

“What do you know about her?”

“She’s five.”

He waited. When she didn’t say anything else, he cocked his head. “That’s it?”

“Yes. I was sensing for her when you interrupted.”

He folded his hands in front of himself, his shoulders square. He was allowing her to continue to sense.

“I need to wander,” she mumbled. Standing next to him while inhaling deeply wreaked havoc on her system. It never used to be this bad, but their casual chat sessions in the corridor left her increasingly needy and restless.

She ambled away, but his gaze licked a searing caress over her body.

“Can you close your eyes?” she croaked.

“Then I’d miss you in actual footwear.” His tease coaxed her into smiling. Good thing her back was to him. He used to be so formal. A very regimented male, but he’d relaxed over time.

She’d admit it was hard to be tense when families were filling up the compound with laughter and idle chatter, two things that had been missing from all those Demetrius surrounded himself with.

Occasionally Scurn would jest, then he’d retract back into himself so tightly she feared he’d fold into a ball and vanish into a black hole. And for what? Like she couldn’t be born with “the sight” and a sense of humor.

She tried to focus around his alluring scent and his overpowering presence. Dear child, where are you?

Nothing seemed to work and she couldn’t blame Scurn. “East Freemont. That’s all I can pinpoint.”

“That’s not really a pinpoint.”

She spun slowly toward him. “Did Bartholomew Danders Scurn just speak wryly?”

He blanched. “Please don’t call me that.”

“What? Your name?”

“Anything with Danders in it.”

“Bart?”

“Scurn’s bad enough.”

She giggled. His lips twitched. She crossed back to him. “I happen to like it.”

He blinked and when his lids lifted, his pupils had dilated. “I’ll let you get away with it.”

“You let me get away with anything.” When he nodded solemnly, she sighed. “I just wish your reasons weren’t old and outdated.”

“I’m a big supporter of women’s liberation—”

She flicked the tip of his nose with a fingertip and enjoyed his stunned expression. “Ladies don’t wear corsets anymore and that wasn’t what I was talking about. You still feel guilty, and that’s why you’re tolerant of how I act.”

“I am guilty, Isabelle.” Devastation passed through his features and weighed his shoulders down. “You almost died by my hand. You suffered.”

“It didn’t feel good, that’s for certain. But you didn’t drive the stake, and you’ve repented for your role in the matter. You’re a good male.”

A crease formed between his brows and his strong, full lips flattened. “I’ve hurt more than you.” He lifted his hands and twirled his fingers around a strand of hair that had escaped her hat. As if he’d touched a flame, he jerked his hand back. “I’m not a good male.”

She wanted his hand back, almost touching her. He hadn’t touched her since the night he rescued her. He’d been her almost-slayer turned savior and she’d been a terrified child.

Now she was no longer a child, but he was her self-imposed bodyguard. “Have you thought about what I asked?”

“Always.” The corner of his mouth lifted. “There’s not much else to do.”

“You don’t let yourself do much else.”

“I guard you.”

She closed the distance between them. He went rigid but didn’t back up. “I asked you to think about what was different about me from your other victims.”

He flinched when she referred to his past as an enforcer for their old government. The council had been greedy and had employed those who were supposed to be an honor guard to carry out their wicked deeds. She’d been a wicked deed.

“You were a kid. Innocent,” he said. “Just like the others were innocent.”

“Yet they are dead and here I am.”

He frowned. “I still don’t understand why I should forgive myself for killing others at the council’s will and not you.”

“Sometimes things have to happen.”

“Hellfire, Isabelle. I can’t forget their faces.”

“You shouldn’t. I’d be upset if my murderer forgot me.”

He shook his head. “Even after one hundred and five years, you still shock me.”

“It’s my gift.” Literally. It was what he’d been sent to kill her for. Her parents wouldn’t hand her over to the council. Their former government had claimed she was a disgrace to their race, an imbecile who shouldn’t be allowed to procreate, whose ravings could threaten their kind. But she’d learned their secrets, the ones they’d kept from the general population. She could’ve warned others that when the council spoke, lies flew from their mouths like crows attacking a freshly harvested field.

They stared at each other. She’d rarely been this close to him. The moon brightened his eyes. Normally, they rivaled the rich brown of a strong cup of coffee, but under the moonlight, the striations of the irises were visible.

“You have pretty eyes.” She crowded him to look closer. She was average height for a female vampire, a few inches under six feet tall. He was average for a male vampire, a few inches over six feet. Standing like this was the only time she felt close to average. And she liked it.

Her gaze dropped to his strong mouth. It was usually held in a troubled line, especially when she was around. But his lips had parted, giving them the shape of a longbow. What would they feel like? Soft? Unyielding?

She stretched up on her tiptoes and planted her first kiss ever on someone.

He sucked in a breath through his nose but didn’t move. She was going to lose her balance so she put her hands on his shoulders and pressed her mouth harder against his.

He didn’t move for a heartbeat, then two, until he dissolved around her. His lips softened and fitted around hers, his hands landing on her waist. An unfamiliar and pleasing bloom of heat spread from her belly to the rest of her body.

When he opened his mouth, she mimicked him. She squashed a squeal of delight as his tongue licked out. Eagerly, she met it with hers.

This was so new. It overpowered her senses in a good way, and…and…his touch…

Her hips rocked of their own accord, brushing against his hard body, and oh—

Had that wanton moan come from her?

He approaches. Isabelle gasped and pulled away. Scurn stumbled back, snatching his hands away like she burned as hot as the sun.

“Who goes there?” A dark form flashed to a spot several feet away from them.

Unhurried, Isabelle touched her lips. She didn’t want Scurn’s taste to go away. How long had she been wondering what kissing him would be like? When had she started wondering in the first place? When could she wonder more?

Turning toward the male, she said, “It’s me, Father.”

Scurn grunted like he couldn’t choke a coherent word out.

“Isabelle? Oh, Scurn. Greetings.” Father pushed a lock of shiny hair off his face and lowered the muzzle of his shotgun. “I stepped out to admire the stars and thought I heard voices.”

Isabelle frowned. Father had never wandered the grounds before. Her ability didn’t chime in with information though. She hadn’t deciphered how or when she glimpsed insight, or why. It just came in flashes, about her, the people around her, events their kind would face.

“Is something amiss, Father?”

He lifted his brows. His dark hair was once again slicked back into place and he wore the very outfit she’d imagined him in. “Not at all. Our nights get…long.” Curiosity darkened his gaze as he studied her outfit. “Perhaps I should ask you the same thing.”

“Nope. Nothing’s amiss.” She smiled brightly. He wouldn’t buy it, but he wouldn’t question it. Because she was quirky like that and they didn’t understand her.

“Scurn, should you be getting her back?”

Scurn vibrated with tension, his expression slashed with guilt. Father probably wouldn’t notice.

Scurn cleared his throat. “She has business in town, Master Devereux.”

Father’s brows popped again. “Oh. And Demetrius knows about this?”

“I have not informed him yet.” Scurn’s Adam’s apple bobbed, his expression uncertain, but he finished, “I will accompany her.”

“Good. Well, good. Give Demetrius a call, would you?”

“Of course, Master Devereux.”

Isabelle pursed her lips together. She was the one with “business” and she was 115 years old. But she didn’t feel a day over fifteen, the way these two males talked about her.

And if she didn’t feel like a modern teen with the whole Does your brother know what you’re doing, young lady? thing, then she would after she asked her next question. “May we borrow the car, Father?”

“What?” Both Father and Scurn asked simultaneously.

“The car,” she repeated with her back ramrod straight. She even crossed her arms for effect.

“I…” Father scrutinized her. “Do you know how to drive?”

It wasn’t that hard, but then they’d inquire how she knew and that would incite more investigation into what she did with herself many nights. “Scurn does.”

Scurn’s eyes widened, but he recovered before Father glanced at him. Would he correct the misinformation?

Finally, Scurn eked out a nod. Surprisingly, the bones in his neck didn’t crack from the tension. Isabelle repressed a triumphant smile.

Father’s gaze jumped between them. Was he recalling that cars had barely been a thing when Scurn had turned his life over to protecting her? That Scurn rarely left his station outside her door no matter which structure that door was in? “Certainly. I will get the keys and meet you in the garage.”

Father flashed away.

“Isabelle,” Scurn hissed. “What are you thinking? I can’t drive.”

She smiled at him. “I can.”

“What?” Veins bulged in his neck. Scurn was usually calm and collected. This turn of his personality was…enjoyable, like she was seeing the real him. “When did you learn to drive?”

“My supper one night was kind enough to teach me.” She shrugged. “Don’t worry. I tranced him when I fed. He thought I was nothing more than a delightful distraction to his sleepless nights.”

Scurn flushed, his hands fisting at his sides. “You’ve been sneaking away to dine on other males?”

Jealousy? Who else was she supposed to feed on? And who was his blood source? She turned to walk to the garage instead of flashing. “You never offered.”

Chapter Three

Scurn watched her delicately swaying backside as she marched to the garage.

You never offered.

He nearly swallowed his tongue. No, he hadn’t bared a vein for her. She was the daughter of a prime family, the elite of their kind. He’d been the lackey of the vampire council, then her bodyguard. Not to mention he’d almost killed her when she was ten. His blood wasn’t good enough for her to wash her silverware in.

But she wasn’t a child anymore. She was an adult.

He dropped his gaze. No one treated her like one. Her father seemed to think she shouldn’t be out on her own and that her brother should always keep tabs on her. No wonder she’d been sneaking out.

He took out his phone. Regardless of how he felt, he’d told the master he’d call Demetrius. Pausing with his thumb over the screen, he didn’t dial at first. The image of a disappointed and frustrated Isabelle stayed with him.

Her father only saw the broken daughter who spoke in riddles. Why didn’t she give them time to learn the person she’d turned into? Or, maybe, try to filter what came out of her mouth? Not everyone understood what her premonitions meant, but Isabelle never seemed to hold back.

He dialed Demetrius’s number.

Demetrius answered, alarm ringing in his voice. “Scurn?” Was this the first time he’d called?

“Master, your sister has left the compound and I wanted you to know I’m with her.”

“She…left? When? Why?”

It was on the tip of his tongue to tell Demetrius that Isabelle feared for another child like herself, but he didn’t. He should. Demetrius was on the Synod, his people’s new government. Demetrius also ran the team that functioned like Scurn used to, only with more questions and better morals. The team didn’t unfailingly follow the Synod’s decrees. They worked to protect vampires from the underworld—they saved kids, they didn’t kill them.

“We’re at your parents’, and she’s looking for someone.” Scurn squeezed his eyes together. “You know how she is.”

Betrayal wicked through him, but it was the best way he knew to keep Demetrius out of tonight and out of the way.

Demetrius cut the line with instructions to call if needed. Scurn rubbed his scalp. His mind drifted back to five minutes earlier.

She’d kissed him. She’d initiated it. And she’d tasted sweeter than any of the desserts she’d shared with him over the years.

He’d kissed her back. Enthusiastically. Hell, he was a horrible bodyguard.

It couldn’t happen again. She was his to protect, not to use for himself.

With a heavy exhale, he followed her.

Voices filtered out of the garage. Madame Devereux had sought out Isabelle. They missed their daughter. Did Isabelle know that? He saw it the few times they’d visited Isabelle at the compound, but she always held herself back. Her typical free speech was restrained when they were around, like she thought it was better not to speak at all.

Isabelle had removed her ridiculous hat. It’d been absurd in the way it framed her face, making her pale green eyes shine as bright as the moon and revealing the delicate curve of her jaw and the incredible length of her neck.

Stupid hat.

What was she doing hiding her rich brown hair? He’d once seen a herd of deer running through the night, their coats gleaming under the moonlight. Like her hair. Was fawn brown a color?

You never offered.

She always told him she got to choose. Was that what she meant? She could choose from whom she fed?

He didn’t like it. Yet how could he feed her when he dined off of drunk college students who wouldn’t be affected by the lack of blood? The college bar was on the edge of town and if he struck at the right time, he could siphon enough to make the would-be drunk driver too woozy to get behind the wheel. Then he’d shuffle them into the back seat to sleep one off. Being powered by the blood of bad decisions didn’t make him an option for Isabelle’s meal.

He almost stopped mid step as he crossed through the garage door. Isabelle stood on the passenger side. He was driving? He’d never driven before. Cars had been around, but he’d flashed or used horses, both acceptable methods for sneaking up on people. Vampire hearing would pick up on the noise of an engine and that hadn’t changed as engines grew quieter.

He wasn’t a recluse. He watched shows and could navigate the city without being a wide-eyed boob, but…barely.

Madame Devereux spoke quietly. Scurn couldn’t make out her words, but the distant look in Isabelle’s eyes told him enough.

“Shall we go, Isabelle?”

She opened the door and climbed in without acknowledging him. “Fare thee well, Mother. Try to remember I’m not a poodle.”

Her mother’s brow creased and she cast an appealing look at him. “You will take care of her?”

Scurn inclined his head. “Always.” He glanced at the master. “I notified Demetrius. It will be okay.”

Isabelle’s parents stared through the windows at Isabelle sitting primly, her hands folded on her lap. Her outfit was ridiculous, too. The way the fabric fitted her curves so well he could imagine exactly how her breasts would fit into his hands. She called to him on a primitive level. He needed to quit looking at her.

She’d kissed him.

“We are grateful for you, Scurn,” Master Devereux said.

Scurn choked back his apologies. He was lusting over their daughter, who he’d tried to kill as a child, and was lying by omission for her. He’d done nothing to earn their gratitude. He nodded and crawled in.

When he was closed in with Isabelle, she was only inches away in the passenger seat of the Mercedes-Benz. Vanilla citrus surrounded him and the memory of her kiss overwhelmed him. He stared at the steering wheel, afraid that stuffing his desire down would only open the avenue for terror about driving.

“Do I have to remind you I’m not a poodle?” she said, handing the keys to him. She’d misread him, which spared his ego.

“You do realize poodles are intelligent, energetic, and sociable. Which of those are you saying you’re not?”

He lifted his gaze to her luminescent eyes. Her lips were pursed as she tried to decipher his question. He’d taken her off guard for once. “I guess I’m not sociable. But I’m not a strange-looking creature to be hidden away.”

“Poodles are often put on show because of their unique looks.”

“And I would’ve been put on show for my unique behavior. Therefore, I’m not a poodle.” She smiled triumphantly.

He chuckled. Now he followed her line of thought. Sometimes it took work, but the journey was worth it.

His gaze caught on the Devereuxes’ flared eyes and open mouths. Had they never seen him laugh? Certainly never with their daughter.

He cleared his throat. “Tell me what I need to do.”

She covered her mouth like she was yawning as she rattled off rapid-fire directions. He got the key in, fired up the engine, and put it in reverse. His heart hammered against his ribs. He used to face the most influential and powerful of their kind on a daily basis, and he’d hunted and killed those who threatened them. But driving scared the shit out of him.

“R is reverse. Ease your foot onto the gas.”

The car flew backward.

“Brake!” He slammed on the brake. Hellfire, this was nothing like reading about driving. In case Isabelle had wanted to venture out, he’d read the manuals. But she’d never seemed interested.

Isabelle adopted a serene smile and waved at her parents. Hitting the button for the garage door, they both waited until it closed before talking.

“That wasn’t bad—” she started.

“They didn’t buy—”

They both stopped. She sputtered a laugh. He grinned.

“You know I can’t drive,” he said.

“Bartholomew Scurn doesn’t do anything he doesn’t want to do.”

His smile faded. What was she alluding to?

She twisted in her seat and feathered her fingers over his jaw. “It doesn’t always come back around to your past.”

“My past is me.”

“Your past was you.”

“Why do you talk like you do around me and not around anyone else?” She didn’t speak much to the others in the compound, but she was still cryptic with everyone but him.

“Drive, Bartholomew Danders Scurn.”

When she didn’t want to answer, he’d learned to drop the subject. She guided him through a lurching ascent up the drive. Once they disappeared far enough into the trees, he stopped and put it in park. His shoulders were tight, but he was finally able to draw in a deep breath.

They switched seats. He jogged around the front and she rounded the back of the car. Another way to avoid him?

She crushed her hat back on her head before adjusting the seat and the mirrors. “Ease on the gas, watch your mirrors, stay off the busy roads,” she muttered to herself.

“He must’ve really taken his time to teach you.” Jealousy burned through him.

“He was lonely. He taught three daughters how to drive, but they’re grown and live out of state.”

Scurn unclenched his jaw. “Do you visit him often?”

“Not anymore. He was human. I couldn’t take that much blood from him. But he taught me how to drive in return for macaroons.”

“The cookies?”

“Yes. His home nurse policed his diabetes religiously. Humans live such short lives, why spoil what time they have by eating kale?”

“Because they don’t want to be miserably unhealthy.”

“Well, he was miserable. I gave him extra macaroons for the blood I took and he gave me driving lessons, though he only remembered the lessons, not the blood.” Her eyes shone and her breath hitched. “He passed away last month.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m not sorry. He enjoyed his life but was ready to go. He was my first friend.” Scurn could’ve just as well been stabbed in the gut with her declaration. He was just her bodyguard. “Blissfully human. You asked why I speak differently with you. Like with my human friend, I don’t get bombarded with noise and information around you.”

She pulled away and kept the speed down, leaning forward over the steering wheel and looking left and right. He wasn’t sure whether he should interrupt her or not, but she seemed rather confident. Her friend had obviously given her several lessons. How refreshing it must’ve been for her to have a quiet mind around while she learned an exciting new skill.

“Why have you never told me?” he finally asked.

She glanced at him. “I thought it was obvious. Why else would I spew riddles around others and not you?”

Well, when she said it like that…

Instead of staring at her strong profile with her patrician nose and her full, pouty lower lip, instead of admiring how her eyes glowed under the moonlight, he stared out his passenger window.

They were heading to town. The trees were thinning out, and sprawling houses with admirable acreage turned into smaller homes arranged in developments. Many of the structures were newer, but they aged the closer to town they got.

He remembered when all of this was nothing but trees. The roads had been maintained well, but now they were pavement and the travel smoother. He’d also ridden in cars the few times he’d accompanied Isabelle out with her brother or when they’d moved to the compound, but this car hummed. The engine didn’t assault his ears and he didn’t feel like gripping the dash in fright.

He’d driven it after all.

“You want me to teach you how to drive?” Isabelle asked. She turned a corner, leaning into it and slapping one hand over the other on the steering wheel.

“I thought you didn’t get readings with me.”

She smiled but kept her gaze on the road. “You were rubbernecking, then you switched to stroking the dash with your eyes.”

“It’s a nice car.” He switched the subject because he wasn’t ready to learn to drive and he didn’t need to be thinking about stroking anything around Isabelle. “Freemont’s changed.”

“Remember what a tiny town it used to be? It’ll be much harder to find her now.”

They started passing gas stations, strip malls, and banks. “How many banks does one city need?”

“Money is the foundation we build our life on.”

He’d heard her say that before, but different variations. When a prime male had approached the council about the cryptic words of a young girl, he’d been there. She’s saying that greed is the foundation our government is built on. She says you don’t work for us, that you take bribes from…demons.

Scurn had thought it sounded absurd, and he still had even after he was dispatched to wipe out a family that was a threat to their kind.

They were feeding lies to the people, the council had said. Undermining their authority. Spreading dissent. Urging a coup. They were dangerous, and according to the council’s “investigation,” they had violently persuaded a family to take their side.

“You’re in the past,” Isabelle said.

Scurn turned back to the scenery. Just like the homes had gotten older closer to town, buildings were also getting taller the closer they got to the business district. It was the dead of night, a few hours until dawn. Traffic would be scarce, but Isabelle was skirting downtown. Primes lived nestled in the woods all around Freemont, but it was unusual to find them in the middle of the city.

“I was thinking about the lies the council told to sic me on you.” He had no issues admitting this to her. They’d talked about it before.

“Lies were their specialty.” Isabelle turned again. She was headed to the eastern part of Freemont.

“What did you mean when you said I need to think about why I was sent?”

She sighed and maneuvered the car to a curb and parked. Relaxing into her seat, she shifted to look at him. “I knew you were coming that night. I knew I might die.”

His world slowed to a stop. She’d never looked saner. Sage, even. The weight of her gift was in her eyes.

She’d known she might get killed? “I don’t understand.”

“I had two choices, yes? Tell my parents and we go on the run. Or stay. I couldn’t see you. I could only see that we would all get hurt, but the outcome…” She raised her finger in the air like a light bulb went off when not even a dome light was on. “If we die, it raises questions to the families who listened to me, who knew my parents were protecting me from the council. They would band together, but many would lose their lives before succeeding in stopping the council. If we live, Demetrius shifts his rage, all of his focus, to destroying the council.” She used the same finger to poke him in the arm. “It all hinged on you.”

He’d been around her every single day for 105 years, but the Isabelle he’d known was different than the one sitting in this car with him. The responsibility she’d had at so young an age. The terror she must’ve lived with until the night he’d broken into her home, her sanctuary.

“Hellfire, Isabelle. I…”

She tapped him between the eyes. “Think, Bartholomew.” When had she started using his first name? When had he started liking it so much? “If you hadn’t seen me dying, would you have altered your path?”

“You were just a kid,” he croaked. “I didn’t know.” He’d been told an adult relative was in her room. Hurting children hadn’t been part of his mission. He and another of his teammates had bashed their way inside her room while the other two had gone to assassinate the parents, but Scurn had stopped at the frilly pink canopied bed. His instincts had screamed at him that he’d been wrong.

“And you saved me.” Isabelle’s eyes glowed in the dashboard lights, the green of her irises reflecting the reds and yellows.

He swallowed hard and nodded. He’d torn her attacker limb from limb. Then he’d canvased the house. The Devereuxes had fought admirably, but they and their son had been losing. Scurn had killed the rest of his team and ashed their bodies in the sunlight.

He’d never returned to his old life, instead stationing himself outside of Isabelle’s room. The rest of the family had adjusted to his presence after he confessed the entire story. He’d even given Master Devereux a stake to ash him. For a few moments, the male’s eyes had flared and Scurn had thought he was taking his last breaths. But the male had finally handed the stake back and requested an oath instead, one Scurn had readily given.

Outside the house, Isabelle’s parents and Demetrius had pretended as if they’d lost her to a home invader. She’d been dead to the world until the new government had taken over.

She was trying to tell him it was fate, but hers wasn’t the first family he’d destroyed, just the first time kids had been the targets.

She moved to tap him on the head, but it turned into a caress, stroking over his eyebrow and down his cheek. “You’re in the past.”

“You say I had a choice, but before you—”

“Shh. I was the fulcrum. The council built a foundation of loyalty in you. Your family served without question, you served without question. Whether you would be able to stop and ask, that was the question.”

“The ones before you, they were probably innocent.”

“They probably were.” Her eyes filled with sympathy and he turned his head into her hand. He shouldn’t enjoy her touch so much, should lean out of her reach. “The best thing you did for them was not to stand with the council, so it could be dismantled from the inside out by my brother.”

He almost agreed. But she hadn’t been there. She hadn’t been the one to dust a mated couple because the male had refused to float a loan to the council. They were stealing from us, the council had raged. Crooks.

She pulled her hand away. The loss of her touch left him barren and cold. Tonight was the only night they’d touched and he craved it more and more.

She pulled away from the curb. They had more area to cover and the night was waning. “History is going to repeat itself. This girl is going to talk, evil people are going to plot, and they won’t have a Scurn to send after her.”

Chapter Four

Driving was one of the most freeing and terrifying activities she’d ever done. But that kiss…that had been the most everything she’d ever done. Until Scurn had acquiesced to her father’s wish to call Demetrius. He’d said she was an adult, then he’d treated her like a poodle. Was this nothing more than her walk for the night?

But he’d been her protector for years, so she couldn’t completely fault him. There’d been nothing else in his life for over a century but guarding her, so yeah, if he called Demetrius, she shouldn’t complain. Not to mention that she hadn’t exactly wielded lady balls of titanium when facing her parents. Both she and Scurn had reverted to mentally tortured girl and guilt-ridden warrior.

They were in East Freemont, but her radar wasn’t pinging. “That’s weird. I can’t pinpoint her.”

“Have you ever tried finding anyone before?” Scurn was scanning their surroundings like they might pass a house with a sign that said Gifted Child Inside.

“No, but the sensation was so clear. Eastern Freemont, young girl who was in danger because she’s a seer.”

Scurn whipped his head around. “Danger?”

“Why else would I leave suddenly to find her?” She might’ve, just to meet someone else whose thoughts pinged all over like hers.

“Isabelle. I know you hate when people ask you questions without thinking about what you said, but you must remember we’re not mind readers.”

Her irritation spiked. “Well, you didn’t have to come with.”

His expression turned disappointed and his attention was directed back out the window. “You know that’s not true. I’m in this as much as you are.”

“No. You can walk anytime you want. There’s no place where I can ditch the stream of information getting fed to my brain.”

“I cannot walk at anytime.”

She chanced a glance at him. His mouth was set in a troubled line. “I’ve insulted you.”

He raised a brow, like ya think? But his reaction set her mind on a path. It was frustrating, not receiving information about him. She didn’t always get critical reads. Often it was tidbits dropped in a conversation. Like when Calli had first arrived at the compound. Isabelle had known the female would have to sneak out and had given her clues to figure it out. But then Calli hadn’t connected the advice to action, so Isabelle had texted her enough to prompt her to crawl through the ductwork. It had risked Isabelle’s own escape route, but it had been a turning point for Calli.

With Scurn…she couldn’t figure him out. He hadn’t mentioned the kiss. Was it forgettable for him?

With him in the vehicle, she couldn’t think straight about their lips locking. Back to how he was offended.

What would he do if he weren’t watching her? He was a warrior, but she doubted he’d work for Demetrius or his team. It smacked too much of what had led him to her.

Had he any other skills? No. He came from generations of warriors who’d served the council.

Was he…was he with her after all this time because he had nothing else to do?

Her heart constricted. She braved taking a hand off the wheel to rub her chest. If he had other options, would he seize them?

Of course he would. Standing outside her door for years wasn’t a life.

“What’s wrong?” Scurn’s voice cut in. “Do you need to stop driving?”

She shook her head and found another curb to park along. This conversation was too serious for her to concentrate on the road. And dawn was approaching. Even if they found the girl, they wouldn’t have time to discuss the dangers and options with the family. And the problem was that Isabelle didn’t know what the options were. Find a warrior to post outside her door for the rest of her life?

She flipped the gearshift to park and turned to Scurn again, much preferring how close they were in the car than when they were talking in the corridor at the compound.

“You’re not stuck with me anymore. The Synod has shown themselves to be cognizant of the people’s best wishes. They don’t know about my abilities. I’m safer than I’ve ever been.”

A crease formed across his brow and his lips were back in their troubled line. “You aren’t safe. None of us are. All it takes is the wrong person figuring out what you can do. Calli guessed it.”

“I’m surrounded in the compound.” She rested her hand on Scurn’s. Her ivory skin was stark against his big, swarthy hand. “You aren’t beholden to me. Don’t you want a life?”

“I gave an oath to your father.”

“Your oath was to me. I ask again, don’t you want a life?”

All of their long talks and they’d never broached this topic. She’d instinctively known that he wasn’t ready. But he was out in the world, following her around, gazing out the window like he wanted nothing more than to go tourist on Freemont’s streets. It was time.

“My life is serving you.” An emotion flickered in his eyes, and she didn’t need a reading to know that this required tough love. He couldn’t waste the time he had left staring at the wall or playing strategy games on his phone.

“Your life is yours, Scurn. You’re fired.” She sucked in a breath as soon as she said it but didn’t remove her hand. She squeezed him instead and had to blink rapidly. Were those tears?

She lifted her other hand to wipe them away. It was shaking.

She dropped it and met his stark gaze. “You don’t want me around?” he asked.

“That’s the last thing I meant.” Her voice cracked and she sniffled.

He was leaning over the seat in an instant, his hands cupping her face. “Then why?”

He was blurry, her tears were so thick. “Because I want to be equals. I don’t want to be your charge. I don’t want you to have to call my brother and jump around my parents.” Her words had never been so heartfelt. She wanted more. More out of her life and more out of the people around her.

Withdrawing his hands, he sat back.

“Why’d you leave?” He’d know what she meant.

“I can’t allow another kiss to happen.”

A frustrated snarl left her. “You let it happen before. Because we both wanted it.”

“You are not mine to—”

She couldn’t stop her tears, but now they were laced with anger. “I can make my own decisions about who I kiss. If you don’t want to kiss me, just say so, or do so, but don’t use me as an excuse not to.”

In a blink, his lips were on hers, demanding. She hadn’t sensed his movement. He left her mouth only to kiss her tears away. She gripped his shirt, but as soon as he captured her mouth again, she slid her hands to his head.

Warm and smooth. Solid, just like him.

She tentatively licked along the seam of his mouth. His answering growl made her feel powerful. When his tongue stroked hers, she whimpered. He was so…so…male. The cab of the car grew stifling.

He pulled back, still cupping her face. “I want to kiss you, but I want it to be right between us.” He glanced out the window. “Dawn approaches. It’s your call on what we do, but I’m staying with you as long as you want me.”

“I want you.” Those three words echoed with a deeper meaning than just having him in the car. The way desire flared in his eyes, she wasn’t alone.

“We drive around more, then we check into a hotel and search more at daylight.”

Excitement surged through her and she grinned. “I’ve never done that.”

“I have that card thing Demetrius gave me for emergencies. It’s supposed to pay for stuff.”

“Perfect.” She eased the car back on the road and snuck another look at him. One corner of his mouth was lifted. “Perfect.”

***

“How many questions are you going to ask?” Scurn growled. The human kid behind the counter at the chain motel didn’t look like he should be out of diapers. Fear flickered in the boy’s eyes.

Coming here had been Isabelle’s idea. She was certain he just walked to the desk and claimed he wanted a room and the person behind the counter would take care of the rest. But he’d had to leave his weapons in the car.

He eyed the clerk who was shifting from foot to foot. “Just get on with it.” But for darkness’s sake, no more questions.

Isabelle’s purrs of delight behind him kept Scurn’s blood at a simmer. Her noises went straight to his cock and he wasn’t used to thinking of her in sexual terms, but suddenly it was the only way he could think about her.

“I just need the card, dude.”

Scurn tossed it on the counter. The boy’s gaze lifted to where Isabelle was bent with her nose pressed against the four-foot aquarium. Appreciation lit his eyes.

Scurn rapped his knuckles on the desk. The kid started but grabbed the card, dropped it, then picked it up. Clearing his throat, he ran it through a small machine, waited too damn long, then said, “Okay. Well, since we have an empty room and you’re checking out this evening, we’ll charge you for just one night.”

Grabbing his card, Scurn bit back a “whatever” and tucked it back into his pocket. The kid flipped a sheet of paper in front of him and a pen.

“Sign at the bottom, please.”

Scurn scrawled his name. The clerk’s eyes flared at the elaborate fancy script. Had handwriting changed that much, too?

“Here’s your key. Room 212. You can park by door E and take the elevator.”

“How is that a key?” The boy held another card that looked similar to the one Scurn had just paid with.

The clerk’s eyes dropped to the card and rose back to Scurn. “Um…you just wave it in front of the lock on the door.”

“And what, do a little jig?” Years of repression were apparently getting aimed at the clerk, along with his nerves. He was spending the night with Isabelle on equal terms, whatever that meant.

“Yeah, man,” the clerk said drily. “Spin three times and shake your booty.”

Scurn almost threw the card back. He wasn’t shaking his boots anywhere. This fascinating world was starting to piss him off. Had he lost his touch so badly that a human youth wasn’t intimidated for long?

The kid must’ve read the panic in his eyes. “Nah, you’ll hear a click and that means the door’s unlocked.”

Peering at the card, he thought of his phone. If he could work that infuriating device, he could master this key. “Thank you.” He was driven by the need to soften his presence to keep unwanted attention from getting drawn to them. “We don’t get out much.”

“You don’t say.”

Scurn’s mouth quirked. Humans.

The clerk pointed to the left. “Door E is around the corner. You’ll need the key to get into that door, too.”

Nodding his appreciation, Scurn collected Isabelle. She smiled and waved at the clerk. The kid returned the wave with a lopsided smile.

“Isn’t this exciting?” Isabelle whispered. “A real hotel. Have you ever stayed in one before?”

“No. Never.” Freemont had had a few back in the day. They’d also had threadbare curtains that would’ve let in enough light to ash them in their sleep.

They found the proper door, and the “key” worked exactly as the boy had said. When they were settled in their room, Isabelle flitted from bed to bed and oohed over the bathroom. Scurn yanked the bedspread off of the bed closest to the window and hooked it over the curtain rod to capture any rays that might sneak through any cracks. He’d take the bed missing a comforter. That way he’d be closer to the sun and Isabelle could have the bed covered by more shadows.

He swallowed hard as he eyed the room. His gaze strayed to the door.

Isabelle breezed out of the bathroom, her stocking hat in her hands, and stopped. “You want to go stand in the hallway.”

“It seems more appropriate.”

“More comfortable?”

He shrugged. Both.

She’d untucked her shirt. It covered her bottom but did nothing to hide the ripe curves of her body.

He ripped his gaze off her. The TV was half the size of one of the beds. Either TVs had gotten larger or beds had gotten smaller. Isabelle had always had a television since they’d become available. It helped with her isolation, but hers had never had that much square footage.

There was a desk in the corner with a chair that looked like he’d rather stand in the hallway all day. With their heightened vision, he needn’t bother with the dim lamps. They cast as much light as a lone candle.

“Scurn.” Isabelle crossed her arms. “Where are you going to sleep?”

He pointed to the bed that had nothing but a thin blanket and sheets. Inclining his head to the more welcoming bed, he said, “That one is yours.”

A flicker of disappointment passed through her gaze. He didn’t know about this new development between them, but he had zero plans to take advantage of her—not any more than he already had. He should feel guiltier about the kisses, but they were too precious to regret.

“I’m going to text Demetrius to let him know we’re staying in town.” When her eyes narrowed, he rushed on. “We’ve never spent a day away. He’ll worry and send people looking. All I’m saying is that your business isn’t done yet.”

Relief took over her expression. “My thanks. I would do it, but I left my phone in my room.”

“You didn’t want him to track you?”

“Forgot it.”

When she was around him, he could forget how scatterbrained she was. She wasn’t confused or forgetful around him. All her channels were wrapped up in receiving and interpreting signals. How was it that he was her dead zone?

One more glance around the room to confirm that yes, they were doing this: spending the night in a room away from everyone. So much more intimate than sleeping on the floor in the corridor outside her apartment.

“Excuse me.” He scooted around her to use the facilities. How thoughtful, the hotel had provided shampoo and conditioner. Lotion. No razor, but he sometimes went without shaving, letting stubble fill in on his scalp and face. Not having to deal with hair of any kind made standing post easier. His hair was so bushy and unruly that he would look like a mountain man in a month if he didn’t shear himself regularly.

The second time he washed his hands, he admonished himself for hiding. But they were safe and Isabelle was in the next room—not across the hall.

He stripped down and ran through the shower. Demetrius had installed a bathroom just for him by Isabelle’s place, but Scurn had never lingered. This morning was no different, but he was at least clean before slumbering within feet of her.

He expected her to be asleep after he’d dressed and left the bathroom, but she was midstretch, her long, lithe body on display and her hair cascading down her back.

His manhood twitched and he darted to the bed. Settling on his side, he put his back to her. He’d crossed the line by kissing her twice in one night. He wanted more, so much more, but she didn’t need that kind of pressure from him. “Sleep well, Isabelle.”

“Oh, I’m not sleeping yet. A shower sounds divine.” The bathroom door closed. The heat and life in the room faded without her.

Water turned on. He closed his eyes and sifted through his options for mental exercises to keep lustful thoughts off her naked form on the other side of the wall, water sluicing down her soft body.

Isabelle’s voice carried through the walls. She was singing. He didn’t recognize the song. Something about Havana, followed by ooh-la-la. He didn’t remember the song going quite like how she sang it. Her warble was adorable and she pitched it low enough that he could hear her but neighboring humans wouldn’t.

Off-key, but she got points for enthusiasm. When was the last time he’d sung in the shower? Never, but his mother had told him he had a nice voice and too bad he would never need it in his line of work.

He had, though. From outside her door, he’d sung Isabelle to sleep several nights, between when she’d quit being terrified of him and when she’d grown old enough for it to be inappropriate for him to sing about rocking cradles.

He evened out his breathing when she came out of the bathroom on a wave of ocean-fresh shampoo. It couldn’t compete with her natural citrusy scent. The other bed squeaked as she eased into it. Covers rustled as she flipped around to a comfortable position.

It wasn’t long before she went still and her breaths were steady. Scurn rolled to his back but didn’t look at her.

His butt sank in the middle and the pillow propped his head at an ungodly angle. He tried to relax. He turned back to his side, the springs groaning under his weight. Now he bowed like soggy wood. With a sigh, he flipped back. Isabelle squirmed with the extra noise but stayed asleep.

Dammit. After a century, he wasn’t going to adapt to a bed overnight. As he rolled off, the bed protested his movements. He dropped to a crouch until Isabelle settled down again.

He scanned the room. The only places with enough room for him to stretch out on the floor were at the foot of the beds, between the beds, or outside the bathroom. Sleeping propped against the wall was the other position he also slept in, but the small room lacked enough bare wall space to fit him. He picked between the beds.

Stretching out on the floor, he exhaled a long stream of air. So much better. The dank carpet wasn’t a deal breaker and his muscles relaxed into the familiar position.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d slept before his eyelids flew open. Isabelle was hanging over the edge of her bed, frowning at him.

“I couldn’t sleep,” he rumbled.

Her green eyes lit with understanding. She rolled off and dropped next to him. “Humans are noisy.”

Hustle and bustle from the hallway filtered into the room and doors randomly slammed up and down the hall. He was surprised he’d fallen asleep at all.

He scooted over, but she wedged herself into his side. “What do you think the Synod would do with me if they found out?”

Trying to relax, he couldn’t. She was too close and he couldn’t force himself to move. Where had all those years of rigid discipline gone? “Are you saying if, or when they find out? Have you seen something?”

“I’ve seen me facing them. I know Demetrius is at the table with them. I can describe their features, what each Synod member looks like. Other than Bastian, of course. I already know what he looks like.” Ophelia’s mate was the newest member of the Synod, and the first non-prime vampire to be involved in governing the species. But he didn’t know Isabelle’s riddles meant she saw clips of the future.

“Did the noise wake you, or the worry?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I’ve been seeing this more and more since Bastian took office. Then I had a vision of the girl and she took priority.”

“Because you facing the Synod means she might have to one day, too.”

“I don’t want to be used.”

He could get behind that. He’d been used by their former government. His purpose in life was keeping her from facing the same. When people found out you could see parts of their future, they got…weird, unreasonable.

Isabelle fit perfectly into him, and his body noticed. She needed to talk and he needed to tame his reaction to how she pressed against him.

She rested her head on his shoulder. “More importantly, I don’t want what I say to be misinterpreted and used against anyone.”

“I’ll keep that from happening.”

She lifted her head and leaned over him, her hair draping across his chest. He’d never seen her like this…so intimate.

He should move to the bed. Or to the office chair that looked like a torture device.

“Bartholomew. I want to have sex.”

He froze. Had he heard correctly? How had they gone from her definition of Armageddon to her desire?

“I—I…” His mind refused to function. She was nearly on top of him and she’d voiced a wish that he hadn’t known was his wildest fantasy until she’d said it. He could’ve died and been a happy male with two kisses. But now he couldn’t leave this earth until he discovered the bliss they could create together. Unless she meant… “With who?”

She caressed his face, her finger trailing down his neck and onto his shirt. “You. There is no one else.”

There’d better not be. As if he had a say. “We can’t be together.”

“Yes we can. We’re both adults.” She made it sound so simple. But it wasn’t, not with the history between them.

“I swore an oath to your father.” They’d had this argument already, and it was his best defense. He sat up and she went with him.

He moved to sit up on his bed, but she stayed him with a hand on his arm. “Your oath was to protect me or die trying. I’m here. I’m safe. And you’re no longer my guard.”

Her gaze was sincere, her touch genuine. She wanted him and he couldn’t have dreamed of a female like her being interested in a brute like him. “I’m not good enough for you.”

“What if I’m not good enough for you?” Her tone… Was that something she was concerned about?

“Never think you’re not worthy of anyone. You stand above them all. Your brain, your beauty, your love of insane TV shows. They should all be jealous.” He didn’t know the “they” he spoke of, but he had to get his point across. She was special. She was the most special person on this earth.

“Bartholomew, you’re the only one I want. I’ve been having dreams about you. About us.”

Her confession would’ve knocked him on his ass if he weren’t already planted on it. She wanted him? Sure, she’d kissed him, but he’d convinced himself that she was drunk on her freedom, testing her limits.

But she wanted him. And he’d made it his mission to give her what she wanted. Tunneling one hand through her hair, he caught her pale gaze. “This is a big step. For you. For both of us.”

“Will you step with me?”

He tugged her head down to him. He would go anywhere with her.

Chapter Five

Their mouths pressed together. Kissing him could become her favorite activity. The scrape of his stubble ignited all her nerve endings, sending shivers down her spine until heat bloomed between her legs.

This was really going to happen. She’d expected his resistance, but this had been simmering between them for the past few years. Once the threat of their old government was gone, it had shifted the dynamic between them until she was more than his charge and he was more than his duty.

Of course, she’d noticed his utter maleness long before that. The expanse of his shoulders enthralled her. How his gaze tracked her, missing nothing around them. His total dedication to her had morphed from necessary, to endearing, to frustrating because he might never look at her like more than a responsibility.

Tonight he had. And she’d jumped at the chance.

He cradled her head and stroked down her torso until his hand settled on her waist. Would she ruin the moment if she demanded they strip down and get to it?

She summoned patience but tugged his shirt up. She’d never seen him in a state of undress. He was always outside the door at the ready.

What a shame. Because the rock-hard abs under her fingertips shouldn’t be concealed. She broke the kiss to yank his shirt off his head. He blinked in surprise but released her so she could finish the task.

Ripples of muscle flexed and twitched under her perusal. She couldn’t just use her eyes; she sat back on her heels and ran her hands over his chest.

So. Hard.

He propped himself on his elbows and let her explore him. She danced her fingertips over his dips and valleys. His chest would freeze, then rise and fall rapidly and freeze again, but he didn’t twitch otherwise. Circling his pecs, she marveled at how rigid they could be on him compared to her own anatomy. He was carved of stone…a tempting, warm marble she couldn’t quit touching. She trailed her fingers farther down.

The bulge in his black pants was impressive. She wanted to see that, too. Her hand landed on his fly, but he shifted, putting his own hand on top of hers.

“It’s been a long time for me, Isabelle. Since before that night. And you’ve never…?”

She shook her head. Logically, she knew it would’ve been difficult for him to have found a partner while he was guarding her twenty-four-seven, but his admission made her glow. “No one since?”

“I wasn’t going to risk your safety for a quick fuck.”

A male that dedicated might scare other females, but Isabelle’s heart skipped. She gave him a wry smile. “I learned to drive instead.” There was no one else worth exploring the pleasures of the body with.

“Good decision,” he growled and released her hand. “We need to go slow, for both of us. Because once we get started, I won’t last long.”

“Because it’s been over a century?”

“Because it’s you.”

Her lips parted and the heat that blazed through her should’ve melted her clothes off. Her leggings and shirt were too constricting. She yanked her shirt over her head, tearing her simple sports bra off with it. Cool air wafted over her breasts, making her nipples peak.

Scurn made a choking sound, his gaze glued to her breasts. “My word, they’re perfect.”

She preened under his compliment. Surely he’d seen plenty in his day, even if it was so long ago. Standing, she hooked her fingers in her waistband and peeled her leggings down. She stepped out of her clothing and toed it aside. Should she be self-conscious? The way he stared at her, she wasn’t.

Scurn’s breaths shortened and his waistband tented farther. “If I’m dreaming, I’ll dismember anyone who wakes me.”

He didn’t move to finish undressing himself. She was the pacesetter and didn’t need a premonition to know it. Dropping back down to her knees, she liked how his gaze caught on the sway of her breasts.

Undoing his pants wasn’t easy with the pressure underneath his fly, but once she freed him—so worth it.

She gasped. “I’ve seen pictures, but they were nothing like this.” He was a big man. She trailed a finger down his burning length. His erection jumped under her touch. He was hot, smooth, and unyielding, like plush-covered rock. She traced the veins lining his shaft.

It was like a new toy. Touching him pleased her, like there was a connection between them. The pleasure he felt washed over her until she was aching and needy.

He finally clasped her wrist. “I won’t keep my control if you keep doing that.” Popping up, he brought her to a stand with him. He kicked his pants off and swooped her up to stretch her out on her bed. “You deserve better than a floor.”

She was game to be with him anywhere, but when he was standing, the view was spectacular. He overshadowed her with his wide shoulders, and every move he made bunched and flexed powerful muscles. “You’re magnificent naked.”

He blinked. Had he never thought of himself that way? He was duty, not desirable? His focus returned and his gaze swept her body, heat flaring. “I’m going to show you how good this can feel and prepare you.”

The way she was feeling, she doubted she needed much preparation, but it would make him feel better.

The bed dipped under his weight as he reclined next to her. His woodsy, leather scent surrounded her. He cupped a breast and kneaded her flesh. A simple roll of his fingers, a squeeze of his palm, and she was molten under him. Taking his time, he massaged and caressed her until she was squirming for more. He dipped his head to capture a nipple.

She arched her back into him, her gasp echoing in the room. Cradling his head, she squirmed as he tongued her nipple, a soft, hot caress, then switched to the other one. They were hard, straining toward the ceiling, and his touch only increased her need to be stroked.

He rolled over her, propping himself on his forearms on either side of her head. Her legs naturally parted to cradle him. This was where he belonged. In bed with her, not outside her door.

Peppering kisses along her belly, he moved down. Her breath caught when she realized where he was going.

He glanced up, the sight more erotic than she thought possible. What was he waiting for?

“Don’t stop.” Hellfire. She was nearly begging.

The grin he developed was full of wicked promise. This was so new. All of it. She knew Scurn better than anyone, but this side of him hadn’t been for her until now. Just like her, he’d stored it away, only to bring it out with each other.

She opened her thighs farther to fit his wide shoulders. What he planned to do, she only knew about in the textbook sense. When she’d watched a show about oral sex, or read about it, it was more of a huh-wonder-what-that’d-feel-like curiosity.

This wasn’t curiosity. It was desperation. She couldn’t help but roll her hips, only to buck when he ran his tongue along her sex. The sensual tickle was nothing compared to when he parted her folds and used his tongue to stroke her clit.

“Bartholomew.” She tensed and relaxed in a rhythm that matched his lapping. Watching wasn’t an option. She collapsed back and writhed under him. He gripped her thighs and anchored her close to him.

Delicious pressure built. Where was it building to? There was something on the other side of a cliff and she was careening toward the edge.

Her knees hitched up as she rode the tidal wave of ecstasy as it built higher.

Then he slid the tip of a finger inside of her tight heat.

Her mouth dropped open as she sucked in air. All the muscles in her core clamped down on him, but he pushed his finger in farther.

“Yes,” she hissed. How could that feel so good?

He teased her clit with his tongue, and the fullness of him inside of her only added to the hurricane of sensation gathering.

Then he slid his finger back out and she barked out a “No.”

He stopped. She lifted her head, gaping at him. Why in the world did he quit?

“Do you want me to stop?” he asked in a guttural growl.

“No. Keep going. Keep doing that.”

There was that grin again. His tongue hit the magic spot and his finger threaded back inside of her. Both of them together catapulted her over the edge. A scream ripped from her as she crested, suspended for a heartbeat, savoring the experience. Starbursts exploded behind her eyes as release claimed her.

She jerked, her hands fisted in the sheets, shuddering until she came back to herself. He seemed to sense when she needed him to stop.

He landed kisses like butterflies along her thigh. Her leg twitched, but she was otherwise boneless.

She gulped to catch her breath. “So that’s an orgasm.” That wispy voice was hers?

He climbed up her body, the bulges of his shoulders flexing and his face coated with her juices. A heart-stoppingly erotic sight.

“I want your first time to be unforgettable.” He nibbled a line from her collarbone to her ear.

“It already is.” She shivered and ran her hands over his scalp. He leaned into her hands. “Is that what it’ll feel like for you?”

“Yes.” His intense gaze rose to meet hers. “But I have a feeling it will be unlike any I’ve experienced before.” The corners of his eyes crinkled. “I doubt I can remember a single one. But the ones with you, I will remember forever.”

“Bartholomew.” She never took what he said lightly. He took the time to ask questions and clarify what she was saying, but he also didn’t try to fool her with words or actions.

“Why have you started calling me that?”

She cocked her head. “I like it. But it doesn’t always fit the moment.”

His shaft pressed between them and the rigidity of his shoulders showed the restraint he was using to keep from rocking himself against her.

“I’ve never liked my name,” he admitted. “Never thought twice about it—until you said it.”

She placed her hands on each side of his face, his stubble scratching her fingers. “Bartholomew Danders Scurn. I want you inside me.”

Desire blazed in his eyes. He shifted his pelvis until his cock prodded her entrance. Moving back and forth, he stroked her clit with his hard length and made her jump.

“You’re teasing me.” She wanted to know what this was like, all of it, with him inside of her. She wanted all of him.

“I’m coating myself so I can enter easier. You’re tight.”

She planted her feet on the bed, and her breath seized in her lungs as he slowly entered her. If she’d felt full from his finger, this sensation took her over, pinned her to him. Every inch, he stopped and let her adjust to him.

He took it slow. When she thought he’d fully seated himself, he withdrew.

“What—”

He kissed the tip of her nose. His arms were anchored on either side of her. “We’ll get there.”

He thrust back in as far as he’d been before. His body shook from head to toe from his restraint.

She wished he’d let some of it go. She wanted all of him. “Scurn.”

“What happened to Bartholomew?” His voice came out raspy. He shoved in farther. Almost there. Back out. She almost screamed at him. Back in.

One final thrust and she had all of him. They gazed at each other. This was it. They were doing it. This was nothing like before, when he’d gone down on her. This was close, connected, the intimacy on a level all its own.

He rocked back out and in. She rose to meet him. They maintained eye contact. The tension hadn’t left his shoulders. He gauged her every reaction. His gaze dipped to where her breasts jutted toward him, then skimmed back up.

“I like this,” she admitted with a gasp. “I like it a lot.” But something told her it would only be like this with him. She didn’t care to test the theory.

His pace was steady. Every thrust in scraped her clit against him, starting another climb up her peak. She met each thrust harder, seeking that stimulation.

Twining her legs around his waist opened her to him. She arched her back and her breasts caught his attention again. His pace picked up. Her frantic undulation increased.

He caught her mouth. Their tongues twined and he stroked her with the same rhythm. Over and over he surged into her and each time brought her closer to the brink.

Moving her hands down his neck around his shoulders, she squeezed. The higher she went, the harder her nails dug in.

He grunted, she moaned, their sounds mixing until she tumbled into her climax. She tensed, but he held her to him. Passion rolled through her and he caught her scream with his kiss. Her walls clenched and milked him, then it was his turn to stiffen and buck, his thrusts shortening as he released. Like him, she swallowed his shouts.

Warmth spread through her with his orgasm. He was coated in her and she was filled with him. So right.

When he released her, it was only to pant with their foreheads touching.

She feathered her fingers over the raised scratches she’d left on his back. “I can’t wait to try all the different positions.”

***

Scurn’s gaze was stuck on the mirror, but not on his own reflection. Isabelle exited the shower, her body glistening with droplets he could lick off if they didn’t have to get going. He left the bathroom as she toweled off her hair lest she end up with her ass planted on the counter while he thrust into her. Again.

She’d been insatiable—and he had, too. But he’d been cautious because he’d wanted them both to be able to move when the sun set.

He dressed and marveled over the sudden turn his life had taken, and not for the first time. Both times had revolved around the female in the bathroom.

She rushed out, her eyes wide and the towel clutched to her chest. “They’re after her.” The towel was flung aside as she rushed to her clothing still piled on the floor.

“Do you know who she is?” he asked. “Or who they are?” Specifics mattered if they were to find her in time.

Isabelle shook her head, her damp hair sending droplets flying. “Someone her parents talked to about her.”

It was evening and there were plenty of opening and closing doors echoing through the place, and voices resonated inside and out of various rooms. Scurn didn’t attach his shoulder holster or his knife scabbard. He’d have to conceal them as they went out to the car.

Isabelle threw her shirt on. It was backward, but he didn’t stop her. Her leggings were next, then she twirled her hair on top of her head and shoved the cap on.

“Ready?” she said, starting for the door.

“Shoes?”

She blinked and glanced at her feet. One shoe lay in the middle of the room. He helped find her other. When she was ready, he put a hand on her lower back and steered her out the door. They were both dressed in black, and not in a way that said they were going out for a fun date night. It’d look better if people saw the couple first and their state of all-black clothing later.

When they settled back in the Mercedes, she barely let the engine fall into a steady purr before she put it in gear and squealed away.

He clutched the armrest. “Obey the law, Isabelle. It’d be a worse delay if we drew the attention of human law enforcement.”

The car’s momentum slowed as she let off the gas. “You are correct. But…I’m worried.”

“You know whoever is after this girl means harm?”

She nodded and punched the gas enough to get through a yellow light. “I know that if they get to her, she’ll be lost. But if she survives, she’ll thrive and things will change.”

“Do you know how?”

A vertical crease formed between Isabelle’s eyebrows. “It will irrevocably alter her life and mine.” Isabelle’s gaze met his for a heartbeat before returning to the road. “People will find out about us. But I can’t let something happen to a child because I’m afraid.”

“I will protect you. That hasn’t changed. And it won’t ever change.” He shrugged into his shoulder holster and secured his blade around his thigh.

“Ah, Scurn. I admit to selfishly not wanting it to.”

A smiled ghosted his lips before he paid attention to their surroundings. They were leaving the business district where their hotel had been and were entering residential neighborhoods. “Do you have a better reading of where she’s at?”

“I know when to turn left and right and that’s more than I had last night.”

“I should call Demetrius.” A kid was in danger and while he was a trained warrior, he hadn’t fought in a long time, nor did he know who or how many they’d be up against.

Isabelle tensed briefly. “Yes. I guess you should.”

Did she have a problem with it? He got on the phone. Demetrius picked up immediately. Scurn rattled off the information.

“Shit.” Demetrius was silent a moment. “Text the address as soon as you can. Better yet, where are you now?”

“East Freemont. Just past Washington and Third.”

“Got it. Stay on the line and keep on with the directions.”

Scurn wanted so badly to ask about the Synod and what Demetrius was going to tell them, but now wasn’t the time.

Isabelle made two sharp turns, a right and a left.

The sounds of fabric rustling and breathing came through the line. Demetrius was on the move but holding the phone to his ear. He barked, “Rourke.”

Scurn peered at the road signs. The houses were close together, the blocks small. They were still close to downtown. “We’re on Eight Street and Twelfth Avenue.”

“Rourke and I are on our way,” Demetrius said.

Rourke was probably the first person Demetrius had passed in the hallway. Any of the team would be fine. Scurn had nothing to prove to himself. Isabelle’s safety and that of the child were paramount.

Isabelle parked in front of a square, white clapboard house. “This isn’t it, but we’re close.”

Scurn rattled off the address.

“Be there in a few.” Demetrius disconnected.

Scurn and Isabelle craned their necks all around them. The houses were all similar. The one they were parked in front of had two stories, but others on the street had only one. Some had white trim, black trim, others were painted garish colors that could only reflect the decade they were built in. When had sickly green been in style?

“It’s not late enough by human standards,” Scurn muttered. “There’s too much movement.”

A car passed them, an average-looking sedan. A couple strolling hand in hand crossed the street and disappeared down the road.

Isabelle tapped her fingers on the steering wheel. “I’m not getting new information. Should we get out?”

Scurn shook his head. “Strangers in a neighborhood dressed in all black? Not a good idea.”

Isabelle killed the engine and shut the lights off. They should’ve done that right away. He casually glanced at the house they were in front of, but no one was peering back out the window at them.

A minuscule bike with training wheels and pink designs up and down the frame was parked in the yard. The narrow driveway was empty, and the lawn was ragged but minimally maintained. This family was not prime.

It hadn’t occurred to Scurn before now that another seer wouldn’t be born into a prime family. His stomach fell. This family would have fewer resources to fight the Synod’s interference in their daughter’s life. They’d have less ability to fight anyone who wanted access to their daughter’s gift. Unless they were the type to try and profit off her.

Demetrius and Rourke hadn’t arrived yet. If they’d never been here, they probably couldn’t flash and had to drive.

A shadow flitted across the street, moving faster than any human and way larger than any cat or dog.

Scurn narrowed his eyes. Another shadow passed across the lawn and disappeared. If he hadn’t been looking for it, he would’ve missed it. The house that was the center of the suspicious movement was a one-story pale blue structure with a one-stall garage haphazardly leaning off the side. Simple, but with the generous window wells of a full basement. A vampire family would have little use for a second story.

“Did you see that?” Isabelle’s nose was pressed to the driver’s window. “We have to get to her.”

She put her hand on the door, but Scurn reached over to keep her from opening it. “You are unarmed. Demetrius is on his way. I’ll go.”

She opened her mouth to argue, then snapped it shut. “You’re correct. I am unarmed. How could I not plan for that?”

“Because you didn’t know the girl’s life was in immediate danger. The family will be scared when I go in to fight. You need to be the one to go in after me and calm her and her family.”

She nodded and her eyes unfocused. “Greed flows like a foul river.”

The attackers’ or the parents’?

She blinked and her gaze was pointed. “Be careful.”

Scurn opened the door. The dome light flipped on. Isabelle gasped and flailed for the controls but nothing worked with the keys in the ignition. Scurn rolled out and refrained from slamming the door. He crouched and eased it closed. It didn’t latch all the way, but as long as that damn beacon didn’t stay on, it was good enough.

He remained crouched as he sensed the environment. Traffic could be heard around him, but not on this street. Televisions from inside homes resonated enough for him to pick up murmured words and snippets of music.

He inhaled deeply. Vampires. Male. He smelled faint traces of the family they were after. The males were new and didn’t belong.

Flashing into the shadow of the home next door to his target, his shoes crunched on landscape rock. He ground his jaw together. Had it been so long that he’d gotten this sloppy? His gaze swept the vampire family’s yard ahead of him. To be fair, in his day, he hadn’t had to worry about dome lights and landscaping other than a few bushes or trees.

There was nothing in the front yard. Had the males broken in the back door?

Scurn skirted the neighbor’s house, moving to the grass to keep the sound down. No fence bordered the front yards and he sensed no movement outside either house. Separate chain-link fences surrounded both backyards. He jumped over into his target’s yard.

Raised voices came from inside the girl’s home. Scurn ran around the back. The screen door hung open, leaving a gaping black hole where the door had been pushed in.

He drew out his knife, ignoring his gun. A gunshot could draw human attention that would hinder his rescue attempt. He treaded through the entrance. To his left was a compact kitchen with a dining area. To his right was a coat closet, another door, and a stairwell. Voices drifted up from the basement.

“I told you about her because I trusted you.” A female. The mother?

“You were right to.” A male with a hint of snide arrogance. “Your daughter’s one of a kind. I hate to waste her potential.”

Two of a kind, asshole.

“And what do you think you’re going to do with her?” another male said. The father? “She’s just a kid.”

“She won’t always be,” a third male said. “But she’s old enough to predict the Powerball numbers.”

“That’s why you’re here? To get rich off our kid?” Definitely the mother.

“Get rich. Get powerful. Eventually breed her.”

Scurn’s lip curled to reveal his fangs. Was that what the council would have done with Isabelle? The smell of these males wasn’t prime, but they were ripe with greed. How would the Synod react when they found out about both Isabelle and the girl? Isabelle had never mentioned seeing numbers that could win the lottery.

A snarl came from the basement, followed by a grunt and the unmistakable sound of a fist hitting flesh. Scurn used the commotion to cover his descent down the stairs. He moved too fast to be seen until he hit the bottom. A slight male was restraining the frantic mother. She reached for her spouse, who was engaged with the second male. Fists flew, but the father wasn’t naturally a thug like the male he fought.

The mother spotted Scurn first and her eyes flew wide. She opened her mouth to scream, but he gave his head a sharp shake.

She froze like she didn’t know what to do. She didn’t scream, but his presence registered with the male holding her.

The wiry one twisted to stare at him, and the thug wrenched the father in a chokehold and spun around.

“No one is taking that little girl against her will,” Scurn said evenly, his knife held at the ready.

The slender male shoved the mother. “Who the fuck else did you tell?”

The father sputtered and grunted, barely able to drag in a breath. The thug held a gun to his temple, but Scurn didn’t move. A bullet wouldn’t kill any of them. He sensed the girl, but she was nowhere to be found. Hopefully, she would stay hidden.

“The girl is mine.” The slender man spoke with confidence. He was the leader. He wasn’t prime, but he carried an air of authority.

“Nope.” Scurn calculated all his options and the outcomes and settled on taking out the leader first. He’d been the one to voice his vile intentions.

He exploded into motion, yanking the male back with one hand and stabbing his knife up into the guy’s gut. The move was instinctual, the feel of the blade slipping into flesh and the automatic slice upward all coming back in a startling rush that made the last 105 years nothing but the blink of an eye.

The leader groaned and flailed. A gun went off. Scurn felt no impact or the fiery burn of a bullet. The father must’ve been shot. Regrettable collateral damage, but reversible.

Scurn withdrew his knife and let the male fall. Slashing in an arc, he aimed for the neck. The attacker could bleed out and answer to Demetrius later—or get his head entirely removed from his body.

A force tackled him from behind. The thug was big enough to make an impact, but he wasn’t the professional Scurn used to be. Scurn dropped his slippery knife and flung the second male over his shoulder to the floor.

The mother shrieked and darted around them, probably going for her mate. Scurn wrestled the gun from his opponent. The attacker’s strength was no match for decades of pushups in the hallway. Scurn flipped the gun around and planted a bullet in the male’s head. He wouldn’t die, but he’d be useless until his body healed the bullet out.

Human law enforcement would be here soon.

He spun to find the parents. The father was on the floor, bleeding from his forehead, the other side of his head blown out. “He’ll heal.” She had to know it to be true, but if it was her first violent encounter, her shock might convince her otherwise.

The mother looked at him, her terror clear in her blue gaze. “Who are you?”

Scurn debated what to tell her. He resisted sharing Isabelle’s secret, but it was going to come out and getting the girl and her family to safety was critical. “I was sent by another like your daughter.”

Disbelief flickered in her eyes. “You know about Katrina?”

“She knows things. We want to help protect her.”

The mother’s expression rippled with indecision, her thoughts playing out in her eyes. She couldn’t help her mate and her daughter at the same time. Scurn was offering but she didn’t know him or trust him.

“Who are these males?” he asked. And where is the girl? But the mother wasn’t ready to tell him where her daughter was hiding.

She tipped her head to the slender one. “He’s my boss. I confided in him about the weird things Katrina has been saying and how she’s predicted the lottery numbers every week for the last month.”

Lottery. Stock market. Horse races. The ways to get rich off Katrina were endless, and anyone with a surplus of greed and a deficit of morals wouldn’t hesitate to use her.

Sirens blared in the distance. The mother jerked her head up.

“Get Katrina,” Scurn ordered. “I’ll get your mate.”

She hesitated for only a moment before she jumped up and ran to a room with a closed door. Scurn stooped and lifted the mate to his shoulders. They could go through the garage and load everyone. Isabelle could follow—

The mom came rushing back out. “She’s not here! Oh my god, she went out the window.”

Hellfire. How were they going to find her and clear out before the cops arrived?

Chapter Six

Scurn turned as he scented another male. Demetrius appeared at the bottom of the stairs, his expression grim as he assessed the situation. The mother cowered behind Scurn, her breathing ragged.

“Your daughter’s with my sister. She’s safe.”

The mother didn’t calm down. “What— Who—”

Demetrius held up a hand. Calm radiated from him, mellowing the mother. “My sister and your daughter are very much alike, I believe. Though I admit I don’t know near as much as I should.” He smiled. “Ignorance was safer.”

The mother nodded, likely wishing she hadn’t spoken so freely about Katrina to her boss.

Demetrius met his gaze. “Rourke is dealing with the police. We’ll convince them the gunfire was nothing but a discharge while cleaning and only some drywall was damaged.” His gaze switched to where the two bodies lay. “You get Isabelle, the girl, and her parents back to the compound. Rourke and I will deal with these two after the police leave.”

“Yes, Master.” Scurn started to move, the mother staying in his shadow.

He exchanged a look with Demetrius as he passed. The male’s green eyes were solemn. They both knew this moment changed the course of Isabelle’s life. Her secret was out. The Synod would have to know. He was probably reading too much into the look in Demetrius’s eyes, but it was almost as if the male wouldn’t blame Scurn if he ran off with her to keep her safe. Or was that just Scurn’s wishful thinking?

He cleared the top of the stairs. “Grab your keys. We’ll have to come back to grab anything else.” The family’s life in this house was done.

The mother did as she was told.

“I’m Scurn, by the way. Bartholomew Scurn.” It wasn’t right, introducing himself while he had a limp body draped over his shoulders.

“P-Penny. And, um, that’s Daniel. Havers.”

He nodded. She grabbed a set of keys off the handle and plowed through the door to the garage.

“Open the back door.” Scurn inclined his head toward the family’s maroon sedan. “I can’t drive, but I’ll get in back with him and try to give him some of my blood.”

Penny stopped with her hand on the door. “You’d do that? Why are you helping us?”

“Because doing the right thing doesn’t give me nightmares.”

She frowned but opened the door. Scurn hefted Daniel into the back. Some sort of plastic contraption was in the way. Daniel was half on and half off of it, but Scurn wedged himself inside. He could change the male’s position en route to angle blood into his mouth on the way to the compound, maybe even get him conscious so his daughter wouldn’t have to see him like this.

Penny got in the driver’s side and punched the button to open the door. As the garage door groaned upward, they both tensed. Penny’s gaze jerked to the rearview mirror while he craned his neck around. A police cruiser was parked in front of the house, but its flashing lights weren’t on. Rourke and Demetrius stood on the sidewalk next to two officers. Demetrius waved them out.

Penny didn’t move.

“Go,” Scurn urged gently.

That was enough encouragement. She put the car in reverse and backed down the narrow driveway. “I want to see my daughter.”

“Back out to the left, and when you drive up the road, she’ll be in the dark Mercedes.”

Penny’s hands clutched the wheel and she drove slowly past the car. Isabelle smiled and waved like they were long-lost besties. A young girl in the passenger seat with hair as translucent as moonlight grinned.

Penny stopped the car. “The car seat.”

“What?” They were in the middle of the road, calling more attention to themselves than the police.

Penny reached back and wrestled the plastic object out. “I know we’re immortal, but I don’t want her to get hurt if we’re in an accident.”

She got out and shoved the seat into the back of the Mercedes. Katrina scrambled over the front seat and was buckled by the time her mother got back in the car and continued driving. Scurn rattled off directions to point her to the compound.

“That female? She’s like Katrina?” Penny continuously monitored the rearview mirrors.

“She is. I was sent by our old government to kill Isabelle when she wasn’t much older than Katrina.” Penny gasped and he rushed on. “Almost did, too. But I went against the vampire council and I’ve been her guardian ever since. This is the first time we’ve heard of another seer.”

“Seer?” Penny’s knuckles whitened. “Why Katrina?”

Scurn thought of Isabelle and the obstacles and isolation she’d faced her entire life. “She can handle it. And you as well. Isabelle’s last name is Devereux.”

Penny’s sharp inhale was clear. “A prime? Her parents accepted her?”

“Demetrius, too. That was him back there.”

Her mouth gaped. “I’ve heard he was an involved leader, but I…”

“Wasn’t going to believe it until you saw it? You are wise to do so. But he’s dedicated to his people, to his sister, and he’ll do right by Katrina.” Would he, though? It was quite the conflict of interest.

Scurn brought his wrist to his mouth and nicked a vein with a fang. His scent bloomed through the cab, but the cut was small, allowing only a trickle. Daniel wasn’t aware enough to swallow.

He cradled the male’s head against his chest. Putting his wrist to Daniel’s mouth, he let his blood drip in.

Penny managed not to speed through Freemont. Scurn’s admiration of her level head grew. He barely remembered his parents. They’d died before the incident with Isabelle. His father had been killed on a council mission and his mother had walked into the sun not long after. She couldn’t survive without his father.

What would Isabelle do without him? Technically, she’d fired him. But he’d never been for hire, and he wasn’t leaving her side unless she expressly wished it.

He looked out the back window. Isabelle was following them. Her black beanie was still on and she was leaning over the wheel, talking. What were she and Katrina chatting about? Would they be a blank spot to each other or have a conversation that no one in this realm, or any others, could understand?

“How’s Daniel?” Penny’s grip on the wheel hadn’t relaxed.

“I think he finally swallowed. He should be coming around soon.”

“Good. It’s an improvement.”

They pulled up to the compound. Demetrius had flashed back and waited outside one of the large overhead garage doors, nearly blending into the shadows with his black tactical gear and three times the amount of weaponry Scurn had on him.

Penny parked in the stall and didn’t waste time once the engine was killed. She got out and rushed around to the back to check on her mate.

Demetrius had Isabelle park behind them outside. He crossed to Isabelle’s window. “Leave the keys inside. Father will flash here for it.” He left the Mercedes to come stand by Penny. “I called in Ophelia to help Rourke so I could be here.”

“Can we get this male to the infirmary without the girl seeing?” Scurn asked.

“I’ve already seen it,” a tiny voice said.

They all turned around. Katrina was shy of four feet tall with blue eyes that rivaled Isabelle’s in paleness. Isabelle’s brown tresses could just as well be ink black against Katrina’s white strands. Isabelle was outside, running her hand along the car and humming the same song she’d hummed in the shower.

Had that been less than twenty-four hours ago?

Penny rushed to the girl. Katrina slipped her hand into her mother’s and used her other hand to point to Isabelle. “I like her.” She tipped her head back to stare up at Demetrius. “You’re going to tell them. You don’t want to, but you’re going to.”

Scurn froze. He knew what that meant. His gaze sought Isabelle’s. She had stopped with her fingertips still touching the Mercedes, panic in her eyes.

***

The wood grains in the tabletop transfixed Isabelle’s gaze. It was just her, Scurn, and Demetrius in the conference room. Neither one was asking her opinion, and if they did, her answer wouldn’t make sense. I am not a poodle, but I am a dog.

Even she couldn’t decipher that one.

Katrina was in the infirmary with her parents, along with Bishop and Demetrius’s mate, Calli. The giant male hadn’t scared Katrina, just as Isabelle had suspected. He was an icy teddy bear to those not his enemies.

Scurn’s voice vibrated with anger. “I told that female that you’d do what’s right by her daughter, and the whole time you’ve been planning to turn her and your own sister over to the Synod.”

“They aren’t the villains anymore, Scurn. We work together to rule shifters and vampires and everything in between. Shifters have seers, and they’re not being imprisoned for some nefarious use.”

“They have one and he’s being trained into service with their Guardian pack, is he not? Now that he’s an adult, what are they going to do with him? Have they told you?”

Demetrius rolled his eyes. “No, we have not decided what or if he’ll have another role to play other than Guardian. But I doubt he’s any different than Isabelle—he doesn’t know how to interpret what he sees.”

“How do you know Isabelle doesn’t know what she sees? You don’t even talk to her.”

Her brows popped. So her loneliness hadn’t gone unnoticed. Neither had her disappointment that her brother seemed to avoid her.

Perhaps that was unfair. She was a duty to him, an obligation, a tool to protect that could be used against the people he’d dedicated his life to.

“If she could interpret what she saw, she wouldn’t speak in riddles.” Demetrius’s statement cut to the quick. Her chest grew tight and her next breath was a struggle. He had no confidence she could use her own ability? “And it’s not as if her special sight has helped save her life any.”

Scurn’s gaze was on her, waiting for her to reveal what she’d told him, that she’d left her family ignorant of an attack that could claim their lives. His gaze dropped to the tabletop and a muscle flexed in his jaw.

She’d disappointed him. Just like she’d disappointed herself when she’d let her parents talk about her like she was still a traumatized ten-year-old.

Isabelle summoned her courage. “If events weren’t what they were, things wouldn’t be as they are now.”

Damn it. It had been so much easier with Scurn.

Scurn let out a frustrated sigh. “What she told me was that if she hadn’t let the attack on your family happen, then our old government would’ve prevailed. You wouldn’t have had the drive for revenge that prompted you to turn on them.”

Demetrius stared at her, but she didn’t look at him or Scurn. She trailed her fingers along the grainy patterns in the tabletop.

“Is that true, Isabelle? Did you know Scurn would be sent after us?”

She continued tracing the cool top.

“Isabelle.” His voice was carefully restrained. It was the closest Demetrius had come to losing his temper with her.

“Not the blank spot,” she said.

“What the fuck does that mean?” Demetrius clamped his lips together. He was upset he’d spoken to her so, but she wasn’t. He was always too formal when they talked, too…congenial. They were siblings! He used to put frogs in her bed and she used to taunt him by kissing them.

“I’m her blank spot,” Scurn explained.

She nodded. “I get to choose.”

Scurn’s stare burned into her. She had chosen but wasn’t willing to reveal that detail. Although what would it matter? Demetrius wouldn’t understand anyway.

She snuck a peek at Scurn. A muscle jumped in his jaw. Did he think she should’ve told Demetrius about them?

Demetrius shook his head. “The situation with Katrina proved that it’s not just our government, or even the wealthy and powerful among us, who would try to capitalize on her or Isabelle. The Synod needs to know so we can come up with a plan for what to do with them.”

“A lock and key is not the answer,” Scurn argued.

Isabelle didn’t catch Demetrius’s reply. A vision ran a reel through her mind, one she’d seen before. She was facing the Synod, only now it alternated between her facing the people to staring at the closed door of her apartment. One resonated with a sense of rightness, and it wasn’t the hunk of wood she’d stared at for years.

“You trust them,” Scurn said. “I don’t. I don’t trust anyone with Isabelle’s safety, certainly not a government, and I don’t trust anyone with the protection of a child.”

“You can’t protect them both,” Demetrius replied. “Or do you think to move Isabelle into their home?”

“He’s not my guard anymore.” She hadn’t meant to blurt it. “I fired him.”

“We weren’t paying him,” Demetrius said.

Scurn shook his head. “I’m not leaving your side.”

Demetrius’s gaze jumped between the two of them. “Did something happen that I should know about?”

“That you should know about or that you want to know about?” Isabelle folded her hands on top of the table and tried to adopt the same regal position as Demetrius. She lifted her chin so she was looking down her nose. This was uncomfortable.

Demetrius considered them a moment. “Well, then. Since Isabelle fired you, Scurn, you’ll stay here with the Havers, and Isabelle will come with me.”

Scurn stood, knocking his office chair over behind him. “No way in hell. I’ve been at Isabelle’s side for one hundred and five years. I’m not leaving it so you can take her somewhere I’ve never been. I can’t flash to her if she’s in trouble.”

Demetrius didn’t twitch, but his shoulders were tight and his stare hard. “Two reasons: Isabelle has indicated you’re no longer welcome as her guard. And if she goes and comes back safely, it’ll be the beginning of your journey toward trusting those in charge.”

“I’m not a child,” Scurn bit out.

“Neither is my sister.”

So…this was an unexpected turn of events. Scurn had been the one treating her like she had a sense of independence, but the roles had flipped and Demetrius was standing up for her.

His words are true but their meaning multiple.

Sometimes she hated her sight, always wondering what it meant. Had she interpreted correctly? Like now. Demetrius wasn’t standing up for her? He knew she was an adult and should be treated as such. Or only if it would get him his way?

Should she say something?

Her decision came down to facing a door or a panel of people. She didn’t let the discussion between Demetrius and Scurn fool her. The choice whether to stay or go was hers.

If she acquiesced, it’d relieve a huge burden from Demetrius. He wouldn’t be the villain in his sister’s story, and he’d get to be the competent leader, one who wasn’t keeping a secret seer sister from the Synod. If she stayed, though, she and Scurn would return to their status quo even if she no longer needed him posted at the door. He’d “Yes, Master Devereux” her father left and right and continue reporting to Demetrius in the name of her safety. That wasn’t exactly an equal relationship, nor one she cared to have with Scurn.

And what about Katrina? What affected Isabelle’s seer status would affect her. Isabelle didn’t want her life of isolation for Katrina.

Could they work together? The girl was only five. Their roles had to be decided now, but Isabelle couldn’t do it on her own.

“I need to change clothes before we go,” she told Demetrius. Surprise lit his eyes. He’d expected to argue with her over it, or that she’d defer to Scurn.

Her deferential days were over. It wasn’t just about her anymore.

She looked at Scurn. His gaze was destroyed…and betrayed. She hadn’t consulted with him. He was no longer her guard. Was he thinking she was done with him?

After what they’d been through, what he’d given up, and what they’d shared yesterday, she was leaving him behind.

She dropped her gaze from Scurn’s. “I don’t know when I’ll be back.”

“Let me go with you,” he pleaded. He popped out of his seat and circled around the table to her. Dropping to his knees, he swiveled her chair. “Don’t do this by yourself. Don’t trust them without reason.”

She brushed her fingers down his cheek. “They aren’t without fault, but they aren’t cruel.”

He gripped her wrist, his eyes brimming with anxiety. “Don’t go without me.”

“I need to go and be me.” She said it as much for Demetrius as Scurn. “I’m not a poodle, and I’m no longer broken. My purpose needs to be determined and I need to be a part of that decision, not a decision made for me and communicated through you.”

Understanding dawned in his eyes, followed by hurt. “I’m sorry.”

“Bartholomew, I need to learn to be me.”

“And you can’t do that with me around. I get it.” He stood faster than she could react and disappeared out the door.

Her heart fractured. Leaving him terrified her, but it was something she had to do. If she stayed, she wouldn’t be his equal. She’d be his charge forever, in his eyes and in the eyes of others.

She’d chosen, and she was afraid the path didn’t include Scurn.

Chapter Seven

Scurn wound his hands behind his back as he stood guard outside the infirmary. Calli had left after declaring Katrina “just fine,” and since Bishop had been there more for Calli’s protection in case the father lost his shit when he regained consciousness, he was gone, too.

Scurn stood alone, at post, the same way he’d done for over a century. But this time was entirely different. He didn’t want to be here.

I’m a horrible person. The little girl had almost been kidnapped to be imprisoned for personal use until she was old enough to breed. Protecting seers was exactly what he did.

But he’d changed. Whether it was over the course of the last century, or the last two years, or two days, he’d changed.

Standing alone with his thoughts made him question his motivation all those years. During that time, he’d gone from repentant to needed while the old government was still around to…being unwilling to leave Isabelle’s side, because she’d come to be more than just a charge.

Because he’d fallen in love with her.

And she’d left him.

Sure, she’d be back, but he would no longer stand outside her door. There would be no waking up to see her sleeping across the hall with her face cradled in her curled hand. No more hours-long philosophical chatting.

Would he ever again know the slide of her satin skin under his fingertips or hear her breathy moans when she came?

Hellfire, he had it bad. But he was a party of one in that respect. Isabelle had announced to Demetrius that she’d dismissed him and then left with her brother on a trip that had been Scurn’s biggest fear since the night she’d almost died.

Katrina giggled from inside the infirmary. The sounds of toy trucks on the floor carried into the hall. It was a welcome noise, and something he had to remember that he’d fight to keep.

Begrudgingly, he could understand Demetrius’s motivation. Katrina and Isabelle could be abused or used against their own people, and they deserved a safe environment to live their lives in.

What would the Synod do with them? Would they have dollar bills in their eyes when they found out Katrina could help rake in the cash? Would they fear Isabelle because she could call them out on anything they were trying to hide?

Even if they were decent folk doing their best to lead shifters and vampires and those in between, what would they do with a seer? Scurn couldn’t see them letting Isabelle come back and dive into the next season of The Bachelorette. It would be foolish not to utilize their talents for the betterment of their people.

Nothing would change that their ability made them targets, leading to isolation and guards.

The door to the infirmary opened and Daniel stepped out. He crossed to the other side of the hall and leaned against the wall, facing him.

“Is anything amiss, sir?” Scurn asked. The male’s face was unreadable. He wasn’t as big and fearsome as the warriors in the compound, but his expression was grim. His hair was wet like he’d tried to give himself a sink shower. Dried blood remained close to the roots and he wore a borrowed black sweater. A vast improvement over the bloodstained polo he’d been wearing.

“That waits to be seen, I guess.”

Scurn snorted. Daniel was not stupid at least. Would he be like Isabelle’s father, happy to sequester his daughter away for eternity?

Daniel didn’t let the companionable silence linger. “Penny says I have you to thank for the speed of my recovery.”

Scurn shrugged. “She would’ve fed you, but I can’t drive.”

“Regardless, you saved us and Katrina from her greedy boss.” The male’s lips quirked. “I always told her she should open her own accounting business. There was always something about him I didn’t trust. But whaddya do?”

Daniel’s easy demeanor was refreshing. During Scurn’s years on watch in the Devereuxes’ home, Isabelle’s parents had always seemed so stiff around him. “I think that’s the question we’re all wondering.”

Daniel cleared his throat. “Penny also mentioned that you protected a girl like Katrina. Have you been reassigned?”

“Isabelle feels she has no more need for my services.” She’d chosen, all right. “They are convening at the Synod to decide her and Katrina’s future.”

Would she stay at the Synod? Have Demetrius move her things up there? Would he see her again?

His brow crinkled and he glared at the floor.

“You don’t want to be here, do you?” Daniel asked.

Scurn’s gaze jerked up. “No, sir. It’s just… I… Your daughter’s safety is our priority.”

Daniel’s expression was shrewd, but polite. “We both know this is the safest place she can be.”

“I don’t know what went on with the other seer, but here’s what I know as Katrina’s father. No one is going to dictate her life. We’ll disappear long before that. If the Synod wants a security detail to protect her, I’ll be in on all the screenings. And you know what my first question will be? Why did you choose this line of work?”

I get to choose.

He’d chosen to be Isabelle’s protector. He hadn’t turned his life over to every seer that came into existence after.

He wanted to be useful to his people. But he wanted to be at Isabelle’s side while he did it.

“If you’ll excuse me”—Scurn pushed off the wall—“there’s someplace I need to be.”

***

The closed double-paneled door loomed in front of Isabelle. Heavy. Arched. Ornate. This place was where the original lycan council had presided. After they’d been disbanded and the new Synod formed, this location had been kept for its isolation and security. A pack of Guardians comprised of shifters and vampires was stationed at the headquarters, and a prison took up a wing. The entire Synod campus was buried deep in the woods of the northern Midwest, along the Canadian border.

A prime vampire like her could flash the couple hundred miles from Freemont to here, but she’d had to hold on to Demetrius since she’d never been here—in person. In her head, she’d had this face-off many times. But in the frustrating way of her ability, she hadn’t seen the outcome, only that she needed to get to this point. Until that happened, no more information would stream through her brain.

Scurn was two hundred miles away. Her pulse sped up and she feathered her hair out of her face. She felt naked without him even though she’d cleaned up before they’d left. Her violet shift was simple, and with the ankle boots from her cat burglar outfit, she could fit in with a bohemian-chic crowd. She wasn’t bohemian chic, but it was better than looking like a housedress she did nothing in but watch TV all day.

Leaving her apartment to meet Demetrius had been disconcerting. There had been no Scurn outside her door. Demetrius had asked if she was ready and that was about it. He looked at her differently. Before, it was like he couldn’t bear to meet her eyes. She was the crazy sister he’d had to keep secret from the world. Now, she was his crazy sister but all grown up—and he still didn’t know what to do with her.

Would they ever get to a point where he came over for supper to chat? Talk about his day, how he and Calli were doing, whether Isabelle had hopes and dreams of her own that she’d missed out on for over a hundred years?

She waited in the vestibule outside of the chamber where the members of the Synod met. Demetrius was inside. Two guards, a male shifter and a female vampire, flanked the door. Isabelle stood between them, waiting to face her destiny.

“You can have a seat, Madame Devereux,” the female said. “These meetings can last for hours.”

Isabelle smiled. “Madame Devereux is my mother. Please, call me Isabelle.”

The vampire’s golden eyes flickered. Had she expected a haughty prime? Or an unintelligible one? The guard inclined her head. The shifter guard was as stationary as one of those palace guards in England.

Isabelle clasped her hands behind her back. Her hair hung free, but she had the urge to comb it over her face. She’d grown up, but the self-protecting habits of a scared little girl were strong.

Footsteps echoed on the other side of the door. Isabelle didn’t move back as the wide panels were swung open. Demetrius gave her a small smile. He’d told her he would explain the situation to them and give them a moment to think. They’d known about her and that she was “special” but no other details how, partly because Demetrius hadn’t known the extent of her sight.

Isabelle stepped into the room and walked with Demetrius. Shoulders back, chin up, knees high. No, this wasn’t America’s Next Top Model season eighteen, but the confidence the models required on the runway was what she needed now. Because she wanted to turn around, flash home, drag Scurn in front of her door, and squirrel away inside until her visions got too hard to ignore.

But she’d made her choice.

A long table stretched across the front of the room on a dais. Demetrius had gone over everyone she was going to meet. They were all facing her.

Only one female sat on the panel, Sylva, a stern shifter with dark hair, a tight jaw, and steely eyes. John, a shifter-vampire hybrid whose mouth was lifted in a bemused smile, tracked her progress through the chamber. The second shifter didn’t have the height or width of a typical shifter, but ease radiated from him, like he’d seen a lot and wasn’t going to get worked up until it was necessary. That must be Demke. Bastian, Ophelia’s mate, was the newest member and his smile was the most genuine.

Demetrius led her up the dais and pulled a chair in front of the table. He took the empty seat across from her between Bastian and John. Two shifters, two vampires, and a hybrid.

Demetrius had said John was the unofficial leader of the group, acting more like a moderator. He spoke first. “Madame—”

“Ugh, Isabelle, please.”

John smiled, but Demetrius’s eyes briefly shut. Was he worried it’d be downhill from here?

“Isabelle. Feel free to call us by our first names.” John rattled off introductions. “Let’s get to why you’re here. You can see things that will happen, or should happen, in the future. It’s been discovered that a little girl has a similar talent, especially where numbers come into play.”

“Nailed it, John.” She gauged his reaction. Had he been genuine?

John continued as if he hadn’t noticed or didn’t care that she hadn’t referred to him as master. “We’re at a crossroads. If we let you live in peace, your lives may be in danger from others, much like you were before from the vampire council. Some may think it would be unwise not to utilize your talents leading the people, much like the lycan council has done in the past.” And they’d severely abused it as well, but John didn’t seem like he was hiding the detail. More like he knew that everyone else knew, so why waste the angst on leaders who’d been dealt with?

Sylva snorted, her lips twisted. “I have no wish to sit and ponder the misconstrued interpretations of random ravings.”

Ouch. But accurate.

“Neither do the rest of us.” John reclined in his chair and cocked his head. “Demetrius speaks highly of you. Bastian as well, though he admits he doesn’t know you well.”

“How would they know?” Isabelle asked. “No one really talks to me.”

John leaned forward. “Why is that?”

“I don’t make sense. Before you ask—no, I don’t always know what a vision means, random ravings and all.” Sylva’s eyes narrowed, but Isabelle ignored her. “It’s probably why I’m unintelligible. I can sense events that will unfold. Sometimes I can see why. I can help specific people at various unpredictable times.” There was a nice oxymoron for her visions. Unpredictable premonitions. “The real question, as we all know, is what do you do with us?”

Sylva and Demke nodded. Demetrius had hardly twitched and Bastian’s stare was filled with curiosity more than anything.

“You’re not prisoners,” Demke said. “What do you want to do?”

“Be useful.” The words tumbled out before she could think. Their truth was so strong she didn’t want to take them back. “I’ve been tucked away, my life at a standstill and that of my dear Scurn’s as well. My parents have dumped resources into hiding me, but I think… I think I can be useful.”

“Of course you can,” Bastian agreed. “To us, or to society?”

“I don’t know. I have a bad record with past leaders. But it’s not just about me. Katrina needs protection, but we can’t move Scurn over like he’s nothing more than a fire extinguisher. ‘In case of fire, break glass.’”

John chuckled. An unusual reaction. She often got her own jokes; few others did. “Demetrius mentioned Scurn. Why is he not here?”

“He doesn’t trust you,” Isabelle answered. “Any of you. Maybe Demetrius—just a little.”

“And you?” Sylva asked. “Do you trust us?”

“I don’t know you well enough.” Her ability selected that moment to unload visions in her brain. She started rambling. “Down below comes up. One part of each one makes one grow stronger, better, faster.” John cocked a brow. “Separation is no more. Children’s blood will mix.” She clamped her lips shut. And the conversation had been going so well.

“Interesting,” John said. “And that means what?”

Isabelle’s lashes fluttered. She was getting images, but they charged through her mind with no pattern. She pointed at John. “I see you. Bishop. I see young kids growing, then I see them smiling at their mates.”

“John’s a hybrid.” Demetrius finally spoke. “Bishop, too. You’ve said ‘down below comes up’ before. My first thought was the underworld. Bishop’s essentially a hybrid of a vampire and a demon. What you said is vague as hell, but if we look at it based on current events, then you’re saying that our worlds are mingling.”

“And that our form of leadership may be outdated.” Bastian’s statement turned everyone’s head toward him. He shrugged. “We have John, but will we need to add some demon blood to the panel soon?”

Sylva’s mouth gaped. “We might as well invite a human.”

“I don’t see any humans in our future.” Isabelle gulped. They all turned their stares to her. “Not that I won’t. Just that we’re taking care of problems as they arise with humans.”

Demke rubbed his temples. “The fact is you’re a seer. We have seers. The question of what are we going to do with them is a huge concern because the people don’t want us relying on one person, or two or three people, to rule them. They want their voices to be heard.”

John nodded. “And if we aren’t consulting seers, how can we justify the cost of the protection detail?”

“How can we trust they won’t be victimized to use against us? We’re in a tough place,” Sylva said, surprising Isabelle.

They started tossing around options that included more of what Isabelle had lived. Isolation. Guards. Caution in interpreting her words.

She felt like Demke. A throb starting in her head. She narrowed her eyes on the bunch. None of them were talking to her. None were asking what she wanted. She’d said she wanted to serve, and she did, but they were deciding how. Meanwhile, Scurn was planted outside another girl’s door, staring at the wall.

Isabelle and Katrina weren’t poodles. They were watchdogs.

Isabelle gasped. The talking died and their stares burned into her, but she was seeing nothing. “I’m a watchdog. Of course.” She snapped her gaze up to Demetrius, then looked each one in the eye. “The attempt on my life when I was a kid stemmed from fear that I would sound the alarm on the council’s evil deeds. And that is exactly what I did. It is what I’m supposed to do.”

Demetrius blinked. “You wouldn’t have to be locked up to do that.” He glanced to his left and right. “And it’d justify the expense of protection detail.”

Sylva held her hand up, her brow furrowed. “You’re saying that you’d hang out at home and if we make a decision that’s evil and full of greed, you’ll tattle to the people?”

Isabelle wouldn’t call it tattling, but… “Basically, yes.”

“You’re our insurance to the people that we’re here for them and not for us,” Bastian said. “And Katrina does what?”

“She’s our insurance during tough economic times,” Demke announced, sitting up straighter. The others gaped at him, but he shrugged. “Weren’t we just talking about how to make repairs to the Synod campus without draining our funds? If the girl’s mother is an accountant, all we need is a little yay or nay that we’re not on track to an empty bank account.”

Bastian dipped his head. “She can also be the checks and balance system for those who will argue nepotism. Isabelle’s brother is on the Synod, after all.”

A commotion from the outer chamber pulled all their attention away from the discussion.

“Let me in,” Scurn roared from the other side of the heavy doors. “Isabelle!”

Isabelle raced to the door before Scurn met the sharp end of the sentries’ stakes. She flung them open and everyone froze. Scurn was straining against the two guards, his dark eyes wild. They each had a hand on his shoulder and the female held a blade to his neck, but Scurn relaxed instantly when he saw her.

“Bartholomew, what are you doing here? I thought you were watching Katrina.” He hadn’t abandoned a child for her, had he? As grateful as she was to see him, she couldn’t let him risk others. She frowned. “And how did you get here?”

The presence of the Synod loomed behind her. They were only feet away but weren’t pushing past her. They were waiting for the drama to play out.

Scurn’s gaze flicked over them before returning to her. The guards hadn’t eased up on him. The blade of the knife at his throat indented the skin.

“She’s safe,” he said. “Zoey flashed me here.”

He brandished a rose. The poor thing had been crushed, the head hanging limp from the stem. But it was one long-stemmed rose, given to her just like in her favorite show. Her lips parted in a soft gasp.

“My place is with you,” he said solemnly. “Not as your protector, but as your mate.”

Isabelle smiled and launched herself into Scurn’s arms. The shifter guard stumbled back and the vampire female jerked her knife away. Isabelle pressed her mouth against Scurn’s and he held her tight as her feet dangled inches above the ground.

Demetrius cleared his throat. “So I get that you two are seeing each other now, but how long has this been going on?”

Isabelle pulled away but had no wish to leave his embrace. “Two nights.”

“Perhaps introductions are in order,” John said wryly.

Isabelle snapped the ragged rose out of Scurn’s hand and dragged him into the chamber. The guards closed the door behind them. Demetrius introduced everyone, and as he spoke, his green eyes took on a knowing gleam. When he was done, he spoke to John. “I have a recommendation for who can train the security detail. I can vouch for him.”

The closed door from Isabelle’s vision opened. The whole world lay on the other side.

Chapter Eight

The car slowed to a stop at the apex of the circular drive. Isabelle held her grin back as Scurn parked the black sedan they’d borrowed from Demetrius. His strong-coffee eyes swept the dash. She loved how he was as meticulous with driving as he was training his recruits.

But next time, she got to drive. They got out and started for her parents’ front door.

“Are you nervous?” Isabelle wrapped her hand around Scurn’s strong bicep. He was rigid from his freshly shaved scalp down to his brand-new brown loafers. The rest in between was tense, but looking at him made her impatient for their return home.

He wore slacks for the first time ever. The crease was sharp and he’d even worked up a sweat ironing it in. His emerald-green button-up shirt made his eyes look impossibly dark and brooding, but she knew it was from the anxiety churning inside of him.

“Nervous,” he echoed. “Yeah.” He fiddled with his tie and adjusted his sport coat.

She grinned and rang her parents’ doorbell. They were going to have to invite themselves over more often if this was how he dressed. She liked him in his regular work ensemble, and she loved him with nothing on, but this was a special treat.

His gaze raked down her body. She’d traded in her usual shift and bought a special red dress for supper. Her parents knew they were together, but they hadn’t yet met them as Isabelle and her mate Bartholomew. This dinner was special.

Life had been a whirlwind of strategic planning since the Synod meeting a month ago, and she’d done nothing more than call them and tell them Scurn wasn’t her bodyguard anymore and that she was in love with him.

Mother had stuttered so badly they couldn’t finish their conversation.

Demetrius had offered to come tonight, but Isabelle had to do this herself.

The massive arched door swung open to reveal Father. Soft lighting suffused into the night from behind him. That was more welcoming than turning every light on like this was an interrogation. Mother and Father had released their full-time servants and only retained a maid and cook to come as needed. The cook was probably already gone. Mother enjoyed serving.

As if Isabelle’s thoughts had summoned her, Mother rounded the corner into the foyer. Her simple, yet elegant ivory gown hung off her like she’d dressed for the runway. A fur stole circled her neck. It probably originated from the days when fur was necessary to keep warm and not for fashion.

Father was dressed just like he’d been the night he’d found her and Scurn in the yard, minus the housecoat. His arms twitched like he might hug her, but he stepped back and ushered them in. The door closed behind them.

“I, uh, certainly hope you brought your appetite,” Father said.

Mother’s fingers dug into her stole. “Welcome.” Her gaze darted between them. “You two are mated? And Demetrius knows about this?” She pressed her lips together like she hadn’t intended the outburst.

Father’s brows drew in and they all looked at each other. Isabelle tightened her grip on Scurn and he stayed close to her. Might as well get this encounter over with.

Isabelle cleared her throat. Scurn no longer spoke for her. “Yes. Bartholomew and I are new as a couple, but we are very much in love. I fired him before we…you know.”

Scurn inclined his head. “Our professional relationship stayed professional until…”

“It wasn’t,” Isabelle finished. “And respectfully, it’s not Demetrius’s business.”

Mother blinked, her hand stalled over her heart. “It’s…a surprise. I just…” Tears welled in her eyes and her face crumpled. “I feel like I don’t know you. One day you’re my little girl and now you’re all grown up. When did it happen?”

Isabelle released Scurn to go to her mother. They wrapped their arms around each other and it was like getting catapulted a century into the past. Familiar smells and memories of laughter rose in her mind. “Mother, I’ve missed you.”

She didn’t know how long they clung to each other and cried, but when she pulled away, she sought Scurn.

Father had an arm on his shoulder and they were murmuring to each other. Scurn’s hands were moving like he was describing a subject in detail. Or defending it? They stopped when they saw her watching them.

Mother dabbed her eyes. “Your father has been dying to know what you’re doing with the Synod. I’m not surprised he jumped Scurn as soon as I was distracted.”

“What a coincidence,” Isabelle said. “Scurn’s been dying to tell someone about the seer guard training program he’s set up.” She clapped her hands. “Mother, can I tell you about our new place on the Synod campus?”

“I hope you have pictures.” Mother clasped her elbow and led her through the entryway, their heels clicking on the marble floor.

The males’ footsteps echoed behind them as they followed. All of Isabelle’s trepidation had drained and she sensed nothing but relief and enjoyment from Scurn. She craned her neck over her shoulder and smiled at him.

His eyes twinkled. Their life together just got better. She’d wanted nothing more than to strengthen her relationship with her parents and have them accept Scurn. Her worry that they’d feel betrayed by their trust in him was for naught.

They grew together every day. He was almost used to sleeping in a bed, but she woke up next to him whether they were on the floor or on a mattress. Or one morning, on a counter.

Each day, she woke to a life full of choices and he was always her first.

I chose him.

_____________

Thank you for reading. I’d love to know what you thought. Please consider leaving a review at the retailor the book was purchased from.

~Marie

For new release updates, chapter sneak peeks, and exclusive quarterly short stories, sign up for Marie’s newsletter and receive download links for the book that started it all, Fever Claim, and three short stories of characters from the series.

About the Author

Marie Johnston lives in the upper-Midwest with her husband, four kids, and an old cat. Deciding to trade in her lab coat for a laptop, she’s writing down all the tales she’s been making up in her head for years. An avid reader of paranormal romance, these are the stories hanging out and waiting to be told between the demands of work, home, and the endless chauffeuring that comes with children.

mariejohnstonwriter.com

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Also by Marie Johnston

The Sigma Menace:

Fever Claim (Book 1)

Primal Claim (Book 2)

True Claim (Book 3)

Reclaim (Book 3.5)

Lawful Claim (Book 4)

Pure Claim (Book 5)

New Vampire Disorder:

Demetrius (Book1)

Rourke (Book 2)

Bishop (Book 3)

Stryke (Book 4)

Creed (Book 5)

Pale Moonlight:

Birthright (Book 1)

Ancient Ties (Book 2)

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

About the Author