“Don’t be too sure,” he murmured. “Baking is just chemistry, and the directions are printed on the box, right? Besides, I watched you do it a couple of times.”

“Sure you did,” she retorted. “You watched me all of twenty years ago, and you never had a vested interest in the process.”

She was wrong. He’d had a vested interest in everything she did. What she wore, the way she moved, the things she loved. The times they had spent in the kitchen, as she fixed herself something to eat and he opened a bottle of wine for them to share, were some of his favorite memories of when they had been together.

He hadn’t let himself think of those times in years, but he did so now, immersing himself in the memories. The way she had thrown back her head to laugh. The time she had teased him into dancing while her pasta water boiled away, forgotten, and the pan had burned.

After they had put out the small kitchen fire, he had growled, “To hell with it.”

With one sweep of his arm, he had cleared the kitchen table and lifted her onto it. Laughing, she had lain back, her arms over her head, while he knelt between her legs to feast on her gorgeous, delicate flesh. When he had risen at last to sink his aching erection into her, she had clasped him tight in wholehearted welcome, with her arms and legs, body and soul.

As he thought of how she had hugged him, his eyes grew damp.

The last manacle fell from his wrist.

“There,” she whispered, her breath catching on another sob. “Oh thank God, there.”

Finally free, he wrapped both arms around her and sank to his knees, only loosening his hold just enough so that she could slide onto his lap. Then he clenched her against his chest again. Her arms slid around his neck, and she held him just as tightly.

“I’ve got you, Melisande,” he whispered.

Her quick, ragged breathing sounded in his ear. “I’ve been so, so scared.”

“I know. I’ve been scared too.” Without fully being aware of what he did, he sank one fist into the back of her curly, tangled hair and pulled her head back so that he could look deep into her eyes. He whispered, “Jesus, he was going to rape you, and I couldn’t have done anything to prevent it.”

“Don’t think like that,” she said, as she framed his face between her hands. “It didn’t happen. I didn’t let it happen. But oh God, Julian, when she was cutting you, I went half out of my mind. I thought it would never end — and when she let the ferals into your cell, I was so afraid they were going to kill you.”

“Stop it.” His voice turned harsh. “It was nothing, and it’s over with now. It’s all done.”

She opened her eyes very wide. “I. Can’t. Stop. This. And I’m not even going to try. I’ve been promising myself this meltdown for two damn hellish hellish HELLISH days, and nothing’s going to keep me from it now.”

He stared at her in utter perplexity. She looked terrible. She looked adorable.

She looked stripped down, totally raw, like she didn’t have a single barrier left between her and the world, and he couldn’t take it any longer.

He covered her shaking mouth with his, and when he felt the soft curve of her lips move in response to his, it felt so damn good, just as he had remembered it, just as he had always known it would.

No, it didn’t feel just as he remembered — it felt better. It felt like a vital, necessary part of his life had come back to him. Ravenously he parted her lips with his tongue and conquered the private recesses of her luscious mouth.

And she kissed him back.

Her active, eager involvement, the sensation of her tongue colliding with his, set fire to all of his nerve endings. After having been so parched for so many years, he drowned himself in her.

She gripped him at the back of his head with both hands while she wrapped those long, slender legs around his waist, and in response, he growled low in his throat while his cock swelled to stiff attention, pushing at the restraints of his jeans.

He needed to lay her down on the floor, spread her legs and feast on her tender, private flesh again. He needed to hear her breath catch and sigh, while she stroked her fingers through his short hair. He needed to bury himself so deeply inside of her, he never truly came back out. He…

As he framed her face with both hands, he felt something wet slide over his calloused fingers. The sensation jolted his eyes open. She was leaking tears, and the muscles in her arms and legs trembled.

It brought him back to his senses. While he might be a bastard, and his soul might be incomplete, he wasn’t completely heartless. He wrapped his arms around her again until he was simply hugging her, and rocked her in a gentle, soothing movement.

“It’s all right now,” he repeated. “Melly, I promise you, everything is going to be all right.”

“I can believe you now.” Pulling back slightly, she wiped at her eyes with the back of her hands.

After having gone so long without holding her, he was reluctant to let her go even that much, but fresh sounds came from the direction of the gate as the ferals began to return, reminding him of the challenges they had yet to face.

“You need to eat the rest of that sandwich,” he told her. “And I need to clear out the feral infestation so we can get the fuck out of here.”

Her expression calmed into resolve as she listened to him, and she nodded. “Before you do, you need to take more blood.”

Immediately, he said, “Absolutely not. You’re in no condition for me to take any more from you.”

“That’s not true.” When he started to argue, she put her hand over his mouth. “Listen to me. You have to. You were hurt so badly, you weren’t healing, and yet still, you barely took enough blood to close up your wounds. Not only are there too many ferals, but we really don’t know when Justine is going to come back, and she’s every bit as old as you are. You might be the Nightkind King with all the Power you’ve gained from taking blood oaths, but she hasn’t been injured like you have.” She searched his gaze. “It’s not like you can safely feed from the other Vampyres, is it?”

Closing his fingers over her slender wrist, he removed her hand. “No. They’re feral because they’ve had too much drug-contaminated blood. I can’t risk it.”

She shrugged. “There you go. You need to do it for both our sakes, because I’m counting on you to help me get out of here.”

His mouth tightened, but her logic was inescapable, so after a moment, he nodded. “Fine, I’ll take more blood — but only a little, and only after you’ve eaten.”

“Okay.” Not meeting his gaze any longer, she pulled off his lap to explore the contents of the grocery bag.

Only then did he remember that he was supposed to hate her. It was a little late in the day to be recalling something as essential as that. Rolling to his feet, he rubbed his face and regarded her thoughtfully.

He thought about saying something dismissive about the kiss, but he couldn’t help but note how studiously she avoided meeting his eyes.

All right, then. Message received. It looked like they were going to pretend it never happened.

Confused, he scowled at her. He didn’t know if he felt relieved or not. The aggressive, predatory part of him wanted to push for any advantage he could get, but his hands were still damp from her tears.

He clenched them into fists. Then he went to complete the job she’d started on demolishing the frame of her cot.

Within a few moments, he had snapped off two of the remaining three legs to use as stakes. He paused to look around. Aside from the cot and the blanket, there was virtually nothing else in the bleak cell. She really had pulled off a couple of miracles, with very little to work with.

There was a fresh scar on the rock at the back wall, and he strode over to investigate the spot. It was where the bullet from Anthony’s gun had struck. Julian rubbed the area with the ball of his thumb. She was so damn lucky the asshole had chosen to give her a warning and not shoot her outright, and doubly lucky that she hadn’t been hit by the ricochet.