Saxson Olaru wasn’t usually impulsive, and he knew he needed to give this time: take a moment to get to know his new destiny, slowly bring her into his life. After all, she was ready, willing, and cooperative. There was no need to sequester her cell phone—what might she text?—I met a hottie, and he took me home? There was no need to restrict her explorations—it wasn’t like she was trying to escape. And there was no need to propel things forward, any faster than necessary.

Kyla was like putty in his hands.

At least, thus far.

Besides, it was late, he was tired, and they still had twenty-nine days, being that he’d met her before midnight on Sunday, and it was now four o’clock on Monday morning.

There was no need to rush.

Just the same, he had waited a dozen human lifetimes for this woman to appear, and now that he had her, safely tucked away in his home, he wasn’t feeling…anything…particularly amorous. However, there was one thing that might change that: something that was sure to stir his soul.

Something that always had…

And if sharing it with Kyla now meant that he might be forced to tell her the truth—about his species, about his purpose, about her importance to his race—then so be it. Wasn’t the truth always the best bet, anyhow? Besides, it might put his mind at ease to get the ball rolling early. So far, she was so agreeable… Saxson had no doubt that the real truth, the whole truth, and nothing but would surely give Kyla pause; and then, maybe, they could start to move forward on a more authentic level…peel through the layers, together.

“Is everything all right?” he asked again, watching as she sauntered out of the bathroom and flashed him a breathtaking smile.

“Yes.” She spoke softly. “Everything is fine. Who was at the door?”

He shrugged a dismissive shoulder. “Oh, that was just my brothers.” Searching for a plausible explanation, he added, “Earlier, in Denver, I was there on business. We were just wrapping things up.”

She frowned, albeit slightly. “Business? What kind of business, so late at night?”

He gave her an evasive wink and followed it up with an ingratiating nod; then he pointed toward the great room. “Nothing important, or remotely interesting. Come. There’s something I want to show you.”

She paused, as if considering whether she was going to let him dismiss the subject so easily, and then she simply let it go—once again, she was so compliant and agreeable…

Hmm.

She followed him down the hall, across the stunning main living space, and to the back of the room, where he opened a gigantic set of modern sliding doors. “It’s outside,” he explained. He took off his lightweight jacket, draped it over her shoulders, and led her out the doors, onto the sprawling wraparound terrace, then down a curving set of cliffside steps leading down to his secret garden. “Don’t worry,” he reassured her, gesturing toward the edge of the cliff and the accompanying panoramic view. “No one has ever fallen, and I’d never let you slip.”

She smiled sweetly. “No worries. Besides, I’m not afraid of heights.” She immediately switched to a more demure posture, almost as if on purpose. “But I appreciate the gallantry, Saxson. Thank you.”

He offered Kyla his hand, escorted her down the steep, foreboding staircase, and led her to the elaborate Tuscan-inspired gardens to the entrance of an enormous greenhouse, with a retractable dome-shaped roof and three acres of meticulously planted flowers.

Roses, to be exact.

He paused, needing to gather his courage…wanting to catch his breath.

This was no small thing for Saxson—this was not an insignificant moment.

The sentinel had dreamed of this for years…

Hell, for decades, even centuries.

He had traveled the world, from one end to the next, collecting the rarest, most elegant plants—roses in every color of the rainbow, and beyond—fragrances so sweet, petals so delicate, blossoms so fragile and unique that a single collection, housing them all, could not be found anywhere else on Earth. Not even in the most famous botanical gardens. Every trellis, every bench, every handcrafted fountain had been chosen for its artistry and grace, and each sat, peaceful and undisturbed, in Saxson’s secret oasis.

This was the Master Warrior’s private pride and joy, the labor of a lifetime.

It exemplified the full measure of his immortal heart, and all his hopes and dreams.

This virtual, glassed-in sanctuary of florae. This hidden paradise of splendor. This masterpiece of elegance and design, created over an era, for his destiny. For the day she finally showed up.

If their souls were truly linked—and of course they inevitably were—Kyla would have to feel something magical while standing in this place.

And so would Saxson.

* * *

Kyla Sparrow stood quietly behind Saxson as he opened a magnificent glass-encased door to what looked like a greenhouse, built on his estate. She had no idea what he was about to show her—or why—but she knew it was significant. It was written all over his face, betrayed in his subtle body language, dripping from his pores. This place was somehow special—incredibly important—to him and, ostensibly, to her. Well, to Kiera, if she had been there (to Saxson’s true destiny), and Kyla needed to play it off.

“Are you ready?” he drawled in that sexy, masculine voice, and Kyla slowly nodded her head.

“I love surprises,” she whispered, lying through her teeth.

He nodded, stood back in the doorway, and ushered her in with his hand.

The first thing that caught her attention—no, the first thing that greeted her senses—was the plethora of aromas rising from the enclosure: the soft and sweet mixture of a dozen extravagant scents.

Saxson wasted no time strolling down the center aisle in front of her.

He reached to touch a pale, purple-and-white bloom, with petals as delicate as fine paper. It was a rare and exquisite rose, and his forefinger caressed the underside of a petal with obvious, genuine affection. “This is a Lisianthus; you can also find it in blue-violet, lavender, or white, but it doesn’t live very long once you clip it from the stem—extremely expensive to ship.” Before she could reply, he took a few steps forward and fingered another set of blossoms: the deepest crimson-red petals Kyla had ever seen. “This rare beauty can only be found in Halfeti, Turkey, nowhere else on Earth. It’s fed by the river Euphrates and must be watered with the same. While it’s a stunning crimson color right now, you should see it in the summer.” His soft hazel eyes alighted with golden specks of wonder. “In the summer, it’s a deep velvet black.”

Kyla inhaled sharply, staring at the rose. “Black?”

He nodded, seeming pleased. “Yep, it’ll take your breath away. The natives of the small village where it grows believe the flower represents both passion and death and foreboding, depending on its shade.” He shrugged, a casual, dismissive gesture. “But I just think it’s beautiful, no matter what the shade.” He stepped back and smiled. “Would you like to smell it?”

Kyla nodded enthusiastically, padded toward the rose, and took a long, slow sniff of the crimson petals. “Wow,” she uttered, hoping it was the correct response. Then she straightened her back, glanced forward at the rest of the greenhouse, and let her jaw grow slack. “This is…this is amazing…and enormous! How many acres? Are all the flowers roses?”

Her comment definitely seemed to please him. His expression brightened, and his voice grew thick with admiration. “It’s a few acres; and yes, they are.” He pointed toward the back of the greenhouse, though the flowers were too far away for Kyla to see. “Pink-and-yellow blooms from Africa; a host of colors from Colombia, planted in the native soil—flowers bloom all year long along the equator—and a species without thorns from China.” He chuckled then. “I can’t wait for you to see them all.”

Kyla blushed, or at least she hoped she blushed. She wrung her hands together, feigning nervousness, trying to react as Kiera would. “If you don’t mind me asking,” she murmured in a shy, muted voice, “why…why me?” She transferred her weight from foot to foot. “I mean, talk about making a girl feel special. A girl you picked up in a bar.”

Something distant and undefinable flashed through Saxson’s eyes, and Kyla’s heart skipped a beat: Had she gone too far?

He seemed to be thinking it over, and then he sighed, swept his hand through his hair, and angled his body to face her. He reached out and took her hand.

She gulped, but held his eye contact.

“You aren’t just a girl I picked up in a bar, Kyla,” he said softly. “You’re far more important than that.” He waved his arm in a gentle arc, indicating the greenhouse, the fantastical garden, and all its rare, amazing contents. “And yes, I built this for you. All of it.”

Despite herself, Kyla shivered.

Holy shit, he was being direct.

“For me?” she whispered, pulling her hand back in hesitation.

He nodded slowly. “Don’t be afraid.” And there it was, a faint hint of compulsion laced within his voice: So he was going to take the plunge?

Tell her everything?

Kyla instinctively closed her eyes, wanting to hide from the moment. She needed to gather her courage—and remember her training—before diving, feet first, into such murky waters.

“I built this for my destiny,” he said. And just like that, the secret was out.

The vampire had spilled the beans.

“You are not who you think you are, Kyla. And I am not an ordinary man.” The compulsion in his voice grew thicker, heavy, and she felt its effect like a gentle but insistent wave, cascading inside her head. “Come. Walk with me. Look at your roses—there is so much I need to tell you, my love.”

My love…

Holy.

Hell.

She’d known he was a ladies’ man from the moment they’d first met: His way was just too easy; his voice was just too alluring; his game was just too smooth…

But this?

This was something altogether different: direct, intense, and primordial.

This was a vampire about to stake his claim.

On Kyla.

And whether she was 100 percent prepared to go through with her devious plan, or only 50 percent committed, feeling her way as she went, the shit was about to hit the fan. As they said in poker, she was pot-committed now.

There would be no backing out.

Her eyes fluttered open, and she gazed at his strong, set jaw, noting his deep determination: his almost feral desire to bring her further into his world. “Okay,” she agreed, unable to respond in any other manner, if only because of the compulsion. “Show me your roses…my roses… I’m listening.”