Before I could slip away, Rowe roughly grabbed both of my shoulders, holding me just inches from his body. A wicked grin split his mouth and laughter danced in his one good eye. “You say you don’t remember me being at Machu Picchu,” he murmured. “Let me see if I can jog your memory.”

To my utter shock, he jerked me close and pressed his lips against mine. I stood frozen, my brain completely locked up in a mix of disbelief and revulsion. And something even worse happened. I realized that his touch, his smell, his taste were all too familiar. I pushed against him violently, pulling out of his grasp as I stumbled backward. His mocking laughter followed me, but I was only vaguely aware of it as my thoughts flew back to my time at Machu Picchu.

“You were in the cave,” I choked out past the lump in my throat.

“You still thought I was human,” Rowe taunted.

I had been exhausted, weighed down by pain and starvation after being tortured for more than a week. An hour before sunrise, they returned me to the caves that made up the Temple of the Moon. Only this time there was a pale blond human in there already. I didn’t think about how or why. Through the fog of pain, I only saw the human I had met by the lake.

“You said they’d kill you,” I whimpered, bringing a dark laugh from my companion. Rowe had told me they would kill him if I didn’t do as the naturi ordered. He pleaded with me to save his life, but I couldn’t betray my people to save the life of one human. When they came for him, I pulled on the chains that bound my hands behind my back. I tried to set them on fire, but I was too weak. All I could do was shout and kick as the naturi approached, tears streaming down my dirty face.

As they grabbed my blond-haired companion, he had leaned down and kissed me. I remembered the softness of his lips, the taste of sweetness in his mouth like ripe berries. I could smell him, a mix of earth and desperation. He pleaded with me one last time to save him, but all I could do was weep for him as they dragged him out, the words lodged behind the lump in my throat.

I stared horrified at Rowe now, all the memories rushing back with startling clarity. I had wept endless tears for him, guilt eating away at me like acid. I had forced myself to forget about him because his memory nearly destroyed me. I thought I had sacrificed an innocent man to save my own kind from extermination.

“You may have forgotten me, but I never forgot the taste of the tears you cried for me,” he said in a low voice.

I wrapped my arms around my middle, nearly hunched over in pain. They had nearly destroyed me with a trick, nearly broken me. Even now, after so many centuries, the pain felt so fresh.

Rowe simply smiled at me, making no move to stop me as I backed away from him. “It was the will of the fates you survived our first two encounters so many years ago. Your life will benefit me one day.”

Shaking my head, there was nothing I could say. I blinked back tears of humiliation as I slowly walked back toward the entrance. That night at Machu Picchu replayed in my head over and over again with each step, increasing my endless hatred for the entire race.

A low rumble of thunder followed me back to the boat, but the lightning remained locked within the clouds. Rowe was still laughing at me.

The sun slid back beneath the earth, its long rays of light clawing at the sky in a desperate attempt to find some last second purchase. The world sighed and shuddered, shaking off the day’s tight grasp like shedding a skin it had outgrown. I didn’t see the sun’s steady descent into darkness, but I could feel the birth of a new night. The subtle shift of the nocturnal world as it yawned and stretched, ready for a night of hunting, rippled through me.

Tristan lay silent last night in the bed after returning from the Coven, lost somewhere between Sadira’s betrayal and my failure to protect him. I’m sure his mind had replayed his time with the court in all its gory detail. He’d come so close to dying in that place of permanent night and horrors.

I should never have left him alone with Sadira, completely underestimating her need to strike out at me. The court could have easily destroyed him, and Sadira had already proven that he was dispensable if it meant breaking me. Protecting Tristan was going to be harder than I’d anticipated, and he had paid the price for my foolishness and ego. His encounter in the Great Hall was my fault. We both knew now that neither of us would ever be completely free until Sadira was dead and gone. But at the moment, he slept deeply beside me on the bed, curled up in the fetal position, the blankets twisted around his naked body.

Hesitantly, I reached over and smoothed some of the soft locks from his face. Full dark was still more than an hour away, and he was immersed in the deep, healing sleep of our people. Blissful darkness consumed his thoughts, and for a time the memory of Sadira’s betrayal and my failure were no doubt wiped away. He would have to face those memories again all too soon, but for now there was only nothingness.

I stared down at his beautiful form, cool and limp. A knot lodged in my throat and I blinked back a swell of tears that blurred my vision. My sweet, beautiful Tristan with the fragile, playful smile. In him, I saw both a child and a brother. Brought into the darkness by the same nightwalker, we were of the same bloodline. Yet, he was so much younger and weaker. His very existence seemed so tenuous.

Jabari had saved me five hundred years ago from Sadira, bringing me out of the shadow of pain and despair. Was it my job to save Tristan now? How could I when I could barely protect myself? Both Michael and Thorne had died while I watched. Would the young nightwalker be next despite my best efforts?

Touching his hair again, I wished his peace would last. I wished for his wounds to heal, on the outside as well as the scars on the inside, but I feared it would all be for nothing. Just nights ago I had professed to James that nightwalkers were more than monsters. I told him that we felt joy and that we loved. Yet hadn’t the bloody mess that they’d made of Tristan’s back when they peeled the skin from his body proven that wrong? Hadn’t the fact that I reveled in the bloodbath I created proven that wrong? How could one monster ever succeed in protecting another monster?

Sparing a glance to find that his back had healed from last night’s debacle, I pushed off the bed. Never in my long existence had I risen so early. I had been called. I could feel Valerio in my head the second consciousness came flooding into my brain, and then he pulled away, leaving behind a faint impression on my lips, as if he’d kissed me. Standing in the silent room, I inhaled deeply, half expecting to catch a faint whiff of his scent, and my brain even told me for a second that I did, but I knew he had never been in the room. His presence in my thoughts had been so strong that it left a mark on all of my senses.

But that was Valerio, as silent as a shade and as ubiquitous as the wind. He was a ghost from my past that I could never quite shake off. But then, there was the question of whether I truly wanted to shed his long-reaching touch.

The sound of the door to the hotel room closing jerked me from my thoughts. I grabbed the ankle-length silk robe from where I’d tossed it over a chair and quickly pulled it on. I was still tying the sash of the hotel robe when I stepped into the main salon. Danaus was pushing in a cart covered with a white cloth, laden with dishes hidden under silver covers. A dozen scents of rich sauces, cooked meat, and hot coffee suddenly filled the air. It was time for dinner or breakfast. By the smell of it, I was convinced that the hunter was indulging in both.