It was about 10:30 in the morning when Kyla stood outside on the gorgeous cliffside balcony, recalling the night’s events, taking in the breathtaking, panoramic view, and trying to solidify her resolve. The smell of pine cones was thick in the air; fluffy white clouds hung low in the sky, and a pair of deer, a doe and a fawn, scampered beneath the terrace. It was a distracting juxtaposition to Kyla’s solemn mission.

Saxson had told her everything.

The fact that he was a vampire.

The history of the Curse.

What it meant to be his destiny, and what was coming next.

He hadn’t spared a single detail, and she had struggled to react appropriately: to show the proper amount of fear and dread; to register surprise and concern; to ask question after question about facts she already knew, while Saxson led her through it with infinite patience and candor.

And yes, with a vampire’s territorial instincts.

He had never posed it as a threat or crowded her in any way, but he had, at last, taken her cell phone and made it crystal clear in his tone and his words: From that moment forward, he had no intentions of letting Kyla go.

Not ever.

She was truly in this until the bitter end.

Eventually, the darkness of night had waned into the first light of morning, and Kyla had needed her sleep—apparently, Saxson could stay up for twenty-four hours if he chose—and he had led her to his bedroom. But like the gentleman he was, he had made no attempt to touch her, at least not sexually. He had given her a pillow and one of his shirts, covered her in a soft, downy blanket, and quietly shut off the light, retreating to a guest room across the hall.

He had left her in silence to think.

And think, she had…

About how to play things off, how to earn back her cell phone, how to orchestrate circumstances to get closer to Keitaro Silivasi and his clan: Nathaniel, Marquis, Nachari, Kagen, and their children. She knew she would have to go through the women, and she would need her phone, and more information, to accomplish that task.

And now, as she stood on the patio, contemplating how to move forward, she had the strangest, uncomfortable sensation: a curse of being born a twin. Despite her razor-sharp focus and her steely determination to remain in a cocoon of her own, she felt something so visceral and alarming, it could only be coming from Kiera…

Anxiety.

Terror.

Abject intimidation.

And the sound of haunting music.

Kiera was playing her violin, and she was playing it for someone—or for some odd reason—that absolutely turned her stomach.

What had Owen and Travis done with her?

And why?

Before Kyla could contemplate that further, she heard the patio door slide open and a pair of steady, agile footfalls amble across the platform.

“Sleep well?” Saxson’s deep, satiny voice pierced the silence.

As if they were lifelong lovers, he sidled up behind her, placed his hands firmly on her hips, and gently tugged her backward against his rock-hard chest. And then he bent to her neck and pressed his perfect lips against her skin, tasting her as much as he kissed her. “How are you, my love?”

Kyla shivered. “You don’t love me yet,” she replied with defiance, a bit taken aback by his forwardness.

She heard the iron in his voice. “No, not yet, but my devotion is the same. Did you sleep well?”

Kyla shook her head; there was no point in lying, and she didn’t want to rouse his suspicion—she needed to earn his trust. “Not really,” she replied. “Just…off and on.”

He placed his hands on her shoulders and massaged them, but he didn’t reply with words. Finally, after several minutes had passed, he stretched his back and rolled his head on his shoulders. “You must be hungry. Come inside. Eat. We have forever to talk.”

She gulped and recited an internal quote from Napoleon Bonaparte: Courage isn't having the strength to go on—it is going on when you don't have strength. “Saxson?’ she whispered.

“Hmm?” he intoned.

“Do you remember what I told you in Denver, when we were standing in the alcove? About my dreams, and that strange feeling I had…like I already knew you?”

“I do,” he said softly.

“I’m not afraid of you. I mean, I am, but I know I don’t need to be. I really do know that. And I know it seems soon, because you told me everything last night, but I’ve had a lot of time to think…”

“And?” he encouraged, waiting patiently for her to answer.

“And I know what I want…at least for now.”

Saxson rotated both palms, upward and outward, in an unconscious gesture of openness, and his deep, emotive voice sent shivers along her skin. “Go on.”

“I want to wait as long as possible…you know, before we worry about the Blood Moon. The conversion or the pregnancy…” She practically stuttered the last word as she shifted her weight nervously from foot to foot, and there was nothing pretend about her anxiety: Her body could not withstand conversion—he would kill her if he tried—and as for pregnancy? Not only had she had a hysterectomy, but she wasn’t compatible with his species.

She wasn’t Saxson’s true destiny.

Whatever she was planning, she had to get it done…before they tried.

“I just…I just,” she continued, “I want to get to know you first. I want to learn more about your world; I want to meet your friends—other warriors, other women—and I want to wait until the very last week because, well, just because.”

He encircled her torso with his arms and spoke directly in her ear. “Because?”

“Because as hard as it might be to believe, I’m really old-fashioned at heart. I don’t…I can’t…I’d rather not sleep with you until I’m ready, until we’re together and committed, and that’s going to take some time. I just need to get to know you, Saxson, I need some time to adjust. And during that time, I need you to give me my space: not to use any powers of compulsion, not to try and read my mind, just…just try to meet me halfway. And I swear, I won’t betray you—if you’ll try to trust me, I’ll try to trust you. I just need to move forward at my own cautious pace.” She held her breath and waited, and when he didn’t reply, she persisted: “Saxson?”

He caressed her cheek with his thumb, but he remained deathly quiet.

Oh shit, she thought.

Maybe she didn’t have as much control as she’d hoped.

Maybe he wasn’t quite as accommodating as he seemed. “Saxson?” The word came out as a tenuous query.

His voice was eerily calm, maybe too calm. “My love,” he whispered, “we never spoke about my specific powers—using compulsion or mind-reading—we never talked about the things I can do. How did you know I could do either one, and would that concern you?”

Kyla gulped, and then she spun around to face him, her face feeling hot and flushed. “I…I just assumed.” She tried to force her emotion into a blush. “Too many Count Dracula movies?” she croaked.

His lips turned up in a smile, but it was half-hearted at best. “Perhaps,” he murmured.

She worried her bottom lip.

Oh. Shit.

What had she done?

Despite her resolve—and her confidence—her legs began to tremble: This male could end her life in an instant. If he suspected something not on the up-and-up, he could pull the truth right out of her cerebral cortex.

“Shh,” Saxson crooned, noticing her trembling. “You need not fear me, Kyla—I am not going to harm you.”

She took a slow, deep breath and tried to nod. “I…Saxson…did I just make you angry? I’m trying too hard, and I just get caught up…” She paused to catch her breath, covered her face with her hands, and did her best to manufacture real tears. “It’s just…I’m only human, and you…you’re not. You’re so much more: more powerful, more intimidating, more insightful. And I know that you could… I guess I just imagined it.”

Saxson grasped her by both wrists, lowered her hands from her face, and cupped her jaw in his hands. “Listen,” he said softly. “I’m not going to lie; you strike me, sometimes, as truly…odd. You’re very accepting, very methodical, and trying desperately to remain in charge. I get that. And in time, I will get you, too. But for now, this moment, I want you to understand: You are both under my care and under my command, Kyla. Vampires are primal creatures. We are dominant, territorial, and very protective; and being such, I will always take care of your heart—but I will also see to my duty. And I, not you, will control this Blood Moon. I will not jeopardize my safety or skirt my obligations to appease you.” When she started to sway, he righted her and continued. “I will absolutely take every word you have spoken into consideration, and I will do my best to please you, because your contentment pleases me, but I will not make promises I cannot keep. Not right now. Not this early. Do you understand, my love?” There was a faint feral growl in his throat.

Kyla recoiled in shock.

So Saxson Olaru had a backbone after all?

He would not be that easily manipulated.

She took several steps back and scanned the deck, her gaze shifting from right to left, as if she had a mind to run. “What are you going to do?” she whimpered.

Saxson sighed, took both of her hands in his, and gently kissed the tips of her fingers. For the first time since she’d met him, he almost looked exasperated. “I’m going to take you inside and feed you, get you something to drink. We’re going to discuss the possibility of having some of your clothes and personal belongings brought to Dark Moon Vale—purchase anything else you might want or need, right now—and then we’re going to sit and talk. Surely you have more questions.” His stern jaw relaxed into a smile, and he brushed the pad of his forefinger over her quivering top lip. “Surely you have more requests. I’d like to entertain them all. Please…don’t be afraid of me, Kyla. We’ll figure this out, together.”

Kyla grew as still as a leaf floating on the surface of a quiet pond as she let Saxson’s words sink in. And for the first time in years, she felt a kinship with her sister…

They were both in over their heads.

* * *

Saxson Olaru followed Kyla inside, kicking himself for not being more accommodating.

What the hell was wrong with him?

Why had he responded like that?

Especially when she was being so accepting, so easygoing, so eager to comply, even if she wanted to do so on her own terms and at her own pace? Why had her reasonable requests and inquisitive words stirred such an instinctive response in his gut?

Celestial gods, if this kept up, he might have to speak with Napolean.

At the least, he might have to consult his brothers.

There was just something about Kyla Sparrow—something about his destiny—something that rubbed Saxson the wrong way.

And it didn’t make any sense.

He owed her…everything.

He was honor-bound to not only protect her, but to please her, to love her.

To cherish her.

To make her feel at home and at least somewhat in control of her fate.

He would have to try much harder.

He watched her as she made her way toward the kitchen, shuffling quietly, like she felt lost: Maybe he had just waited so long…perhaps he had imagined too much… His destiny was beautiful, she was smart, and she was here!

She was his.

Saxson could do better, and he would.