“Get your fork and dive in. The potato skins are awesome. Bacon is the source of all goodness.”

As the two of them danced their way around the plates, Mary thought back to those early days: Rhage asking her to say “antidisestablishmentarianism” in the training center’s corridor. Him meeting her here and staring across the table as if she were the single most captivating thing he’d ever seen. Him showing up at her house at four in the morning . . .

“Penny for your thoughts?” Rhage asked.

“I—ah . . .” As Bitty also looked at her, Mary wondered how much to say. “Well, to be honest, I was thinking about the moment you found out . . .”

Mary stopped herself. She didn’t want to talk about her own illness, her own strange situation to Bitty. There was just too much already going on.

Rhage got somber. “I know exactly what you’re remembering.”

Mary crossed her arms and braced them on the tabletop. Leaning in, she said to Bitty, “When he came to my house the first time, I didn’t expect him. I’d woken up at four a.m., and I was opening a can of coffee—I sliced my thumb pretty deeply. Of course, I didn’t find out until later—well, I didn’t know he was a vampire at that particular moment.”

Bitty shook her head. “I keep forgetting that you’re human. What did you . . . were you surprised?”

Mary laughed in a burst. “You might say. It was a while before I found out. He ended up . . . spending a day with me. He couldn’t leave because of the sunlight, but he didn’t want to tell me why—and then there was . . .”

She remembered him disappearing into her bathroom. And reappearing eight hours later, unaware that he’d been gone so long.

“Well, we had a lot of things to get through. I pushed him away a lot.”

“So what got you together?”

Mary looked at Rhage. “Oh, it’s a very long story. What matters is that it all worked out in the end.”

“And look, here’s dinner!” Her hellren all but got up and rushed the waitress over. “Perfect!”

Rhage helped usher the plates back and forth, trading empty ones for full ones, and then he arranged the constellation of calories he’d ordered in a semi-circle around him and Bitty.

“Anything that I have is yours,” he said to the girl. “Don’t be shy.”

As Rhage tucked in, he seemed wholly unaware of how Bitty stared at him, as if she were realigning something in her mind.

“I know,” Mary found herself saying. When the girl looked over, she murmured, “I couldn’t believe he was real, either. But I swear on my mother’s soul that he is the very best male I’ve ever met—and when he says he’ll never hurt you or let anything hurt you? He means it.”

Bitty glanced back at Rhage. And then said, “May I try some of your steak?”

Oh, she knew just what to say, Mary thought with a smile.

And sure enough, Rhage’s chest puffed up—because he was exactly that kind of male who liked to provide. In fact, it was better than actually eating, to him.

“Let me give you the best part of this,” he said as he took his fork and knife, and began making a surgical assessment of the honking huge piece of meat. “The very, very best.”

As Assail froze with the blood slave in his arms, the male who was in the middle of Naasha’s foyer turned around—and Saxton nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw what had rushed into the space.

Fortunately, the King’s attorney recovered quickly. And even had the presence of mind to keep his voice down. “Whatever are you . . .”

Assail swallowed hard. “Help me. Please.”

Saxton patted at his jacket—and then took out the Holy Grail as far as Assail was concerned. “My car is outside—I had shopping to do this night, and thank the Virgin Scribe for that. Take it—but be quick. They asked me to step out as they argued. I don’t know how long they’ll be. Go! Go now!”

The solicitor lunged for the front door and held it wide as Assail hustled across the foyer, zeroing in on the cold night air that streamed into the mansion.

“I’ll delay them,” Saxton said. “For as long as I can.”

Assail paused for but a heartbeat as he took the key and stepped over the threshold. “My debt to you. For e’ermore.”

He didn’t wait for a response. He tore out, and would have leaped down the shallow steps if he’d been able. And dear God, those chains, those dreadful chains, they chimed and threatened to cut off his air supply as he crossed the distance to the BMW 750i.

He all but threw the male in the back.

No time to waste. Free of the weight, he bolted around to the driver’s side, jumped in, and started the engine. The temptation was to floor the accelerator, but he didn’t want to risk squealing out and causing attention to be garnered. He took off with alacrity, but no undue speed, and was soon cruising away, the mansion fading in the rearview mirror as he proceeded down a long, descending driveway.

Now, he was the one who was shaking as he took out his phone.

He used Siri to place the call. And when it was answered, he cut off the hello. “Vishous, I need medical help. Now. Where are you? Okay. Right. I can be there in fifteen minutes. Please. Hurry.”

Ending the connection, he tilted the rearview downward so he could see into the backseat. “Hang on. We’re going to get you help. Tell me, what’s your name?”

“I . . . don’t know,” came the weak response.

Stopping at the end of the drive, Assail went right, but did not take any deep breath that they were free. It was going to be a while for that. “Stay with me. You must . . . stay with me—you’re too close to safety to quit now. You stay with me!”

Aware that he was yelling, he forced himself to ease off on his voice.

“Do not die on me,” he muttered as he found himself lost.

Where was he going? Where . . . ?

Vishous had told him to go to the northeast part of town, to—

He took his phone out again and hit up Siri once more. When Vishous answered, Assail didn’t recognize his own voice. “Where am I going? Tell me . . .”

Vishous started to speak.

“I can’t hear you . . . I can’t . . . see . . .” Assail wiped his eyes. Fates, was he crying? “Help me . . .”

“Where are you?”

“I don’t know.”

“Look for a sign. Look for a sign, Assail.”

Assail’s blurry eyes rose to the rearview, to the shivering naked male on the leather seats. Then he looked out the front windshield.

“Montgomery Place. The sign says . . . Montgomery Place.”

“Take a left. Now.”

Assail did what he was told without argument, wrenching the wheel, skidding on the pavement, cutting off a car in the opposite lane. As a horn sounded, Vishous kept talking.

“Two miles up, there’s a high-class shopping center. It’s got a real estate office in it. Hair salon. Restaurants. A jeweler’s. Go around to the back. I’ll be at the far end.”

Assail nodded, even though the Brother couldn’t see him.

And as he didn’t end the call, Vishous said calmly, “You got this, my man. Whatever it is, we’ll handle the shit.”

“All right. All right.” Assail looked back at the male again. “Stay with me. . . .”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Vishous murmured. “I’m only going silent for a sec as I dematerialize. Okay, I’m back.”

Assail didn’t say anything further as he leaned in to the wheel and waited for the—how many miles did he have to go? two?—shopping center to appear. And then there it was, its glowing signs and mostly empty lot a beacon of hope, a symbol of salvation.

“I’m here, I’m here.”

He punched the accelerator, shooting beside the real estate office and skidding around to the rear of the building. The back was all utilities and Dumpsters, staff parking and loading docks for the stores. The BMW gathered speed, surging ahead like a missile.

In the headlights, at the far end, a single dark figure was standing with feet planted.