Bastard.

The look on Taelour’s face had ripped Rhemy’s heart out, and he didn’t understand why his friend was leaving so abruptly.

He pulled the door closed, contemplating whether or not he should shove Aleck through the wall. “I thought you two were getting along well. What’s wrong? Is she not almost exactly what you were looking for?”

“Yes, she is, but we both know I can’t take her.”

“I sure as hell don’t.”

“Really? Because she’s yours, which is why I think it’s odd you even called.”

“Wait. No, no, no.” Rhemy raised his palm and shook his head. “You’re mistaken. What would make you say that?”

“Good gods, you’re in denial. Deep in denial.” Though his tone was teasing, there was a trace of pity in the man’s voice.

“I swear, Aleck, she’s not mine.”

“Take her vein and you’ll see she is. I guarantee it. I can’t believe you haven’t already.”

Aleck frowned. “It wouldn’t matter. She’s a pürblood.”

His longtime friend blinked, dropping his hand from Rhemy’s shoulder. “Oh. Well, let me paint you a picture of what I was experiencing in there. The entire time you looked only at her, and she never looked at you. Yet, every time you spoke, I could feel her react, and every time she spoke, I could feel you tense. Your sensa was practically choking me, Rhemy. It was confusing at first, but then it hit me. The moment—the very second you returned from taking your supposed phone call—and I said that I wanted her to myself, I saw a fire in your eyes I’d never seen in you before, for any woman. Ever. I knew I had to go. I didn’t want to lead her on, as it was clear I was wasting my time. I can’t take a woman who is secretly yearning for someone else. Especially when he’s one of the few, true friends I have.”

And here Rhemy thought they were doing a stellar job of keeping any tension under convivial masks. Obviously no matter how much he insisted, Aleck wasn’t going to change his mind. “She really does need to go to the Centurias, and I’m not able. I hope you don’t think I was trying to trick you into taking her.”

“I don’t. And trust me, if it wasn’t for you, I would’ve taken her to my hotel, made good, hard love to her all night, and avowed her by morning.”

Rhemy snarled, snatched his friend by the lapels, his teeth descended.

Aleck chuckled. “See? That was too easy.”

Gods. He’d never done that to a friend before. Reining in his knee-jerk reaction, he brought his teeth back, released his friend, and quickly shook his head to clear the red haze. “I’m sorry.”

“And I’m jealous. Just get in there and tell her how you feel. Take her to the Centurias.”

He combed his hair with a hand. “I can’t.”

His friend buttoned his jacket, tucked a hand in his pocket. “Fated or not, she means something to you.”

His friend was right. Rhemy sighed. “I’m sorry this didn’t work out, Aleck.”

“No, you’re not,” he said. “But you can make it up to me with a bottle of McClellan downstairs if you’re feeling guilty.”

They shook hands. “Of course,” Rhemy said sardonically. An idea came to mind, and he hesitated bringing it up, but felt he owed Aleck something more than good scotch for this. Regardless of Aleck’s indifference, Rhemy knew he had to be disappointed. “Actually, I might be able to make it up to you sooner than you think. Have you heard about the Unavowed Auction?”

After telling Aleck about the event, he walked his friend out. Aleck was right, no matter what, Rhemy didn’t want her to go with another. His plan to set her up bombed, and he was relieved.

Back at his apartment, he opened the door, finding Taelour standing in front of a window facing the river. The breeze sent the loose wisps of hair to dance around her neck, the hem of her dress flowing around her ankles. His lungs locked their air.

She’s mine.

No matter how she felt about shifters, or the fact she was a pürblood. He’d change her mind about the former, and totally dismiss the latter.

When the bolt clicked, she turned around. “I don’t know what I did wrong.”

“You were perfect. You are perfect—”

“Don’t say that.”

He strode to her and grasped her upper arms. “It wasn’t your fault, Taelour.”

“He was very nice about it, but he barely got to know me at all. I didn’t want to come off too desperate to go to the party, and I didn’t, did I? I thought I conveyed a certain decorum that a man like him would appreciate, so he’d know I wasn’t just some country bumpkin looking for a free ride. And now I’ve lost my chance to go.”

“You haven’t.”

She sniffed, then brightened. “You’re right. The auction. I’ll call Calvin tomorrow and ask if it’s possible to still get in—”

“No! You’re not entering that goddamn auction. I can’t let you do that. Listen to me.” The thought of her doing that infuriated him, and his hands trembled as he cupped her face and tilted it up. “I’ll find a way. I’ll get us in. Don’t you see? It should’ve been me from the beginnin’.”

“Rhemy—” She tried to shift away from his grasp.

He wouldn’t let her get away. “I’m not done. Aleck was right to leave. Even though I did my damnedest to hide it, I failed. I want you that badly. And he saw it in you, too. Getting to know you only makes me want you more. And more…” His voice turned hoarse as he touched his forehead to hers. By the look in her eyes, she was stunned. But he wouldn’t let her speak yet. “From the second I saw you walk in my club, you’ve consumed me. Heart and soul. You feel it, too. Tell me otherwise.”

She shook her head, brushing her nose on his, trembling. “I can’t.”

He let out a short moan of despair. “Taelour, please.”

“I can’t tell you otherwise because I feel the same. I was trying so hard to hide it from Aleck, and obviously neither one of us could do it. Because we shouldn’t have to. I want to be with you, Rhemy,” she whispered before bringing her lips to his.

She tasted like tears, lust, and top shelf champagne. Never before had a combination struck such a need inside him to love, protect, and avow.

And he would avow her.

Every worry, every fear, every disappointment, vanished under his kiss.

Taelour didn’t want to think about anything else or anyone else, except Rhemy. She was tired of fighting her attraction, despite their differences, despite the secrets she still held about her life that could destroy their connection.

Yes, despite everything, she would surrender to him.

His thumbs slipped underneath the straps of her gown and eased them down, as he hungrily licked a line from her earlobe to her shoulder. “Gods, you’re so soft. You even taste like dessert. I wonder, does all of you taste like this?”

She dropped her head back and let him push the dress down, legs nearly giving out, but Rhemy caught her with one strong arm. He carried her to his bedroom and set her back to her feet, where he proceeded to undo the clasp holding her hair up.

He captured her mouth, sinking his tongue in while his hands sank in her locks, massaging her skull.

She pushed her hands inside the jacket, forcing it off his shoulders, eager to feel his skin on hers, the whipcord muscle and sinew. While he stripped off his multiple layers, she kicked off her shoes and laid back on the bed.

She barely had time to take in all his nude, masculine glory before he was licking up her thigh, moving her panties aside, and burying his mouth in her pussy.

What started as a gasp from her throat turned into an open-mouthed, noiseless, speechless reaction as he licked her. Her hands shook as she tore the thong so he could remove them. He did, flinging them clear across the room, and eagerly resuming his position between her thighs.

He murmured how sweet she tasted, how warm, how soft, burying his nose in her curls. Frissons of heat and pleasure struck her every nerve, one by one, until she panted and bucked. Her heels dug into the plush bedding, her back bowed, her fingers clawing the duvet like she was possessed.

“Rhemy…Rhemy,” she breathed as the orgasm began.

He moaned. “Hearing you say my name like that makes me so hot.” His finger entered her while his tongue circled her numb, and quivered with racks of pleasure. “Come on, cher, I want to hear you what you sound like when I make you come.”

She shook uncontrollably, bringing her knees closer to her chest, crying out when it proved it was just what she needed. Rhemy groaned, fingering her faster, flicking her nub with his tongue. Her scream preceded the climax, and she didn’t hold back the volume, knowing they could possibly hear her all the way in Saint Charles.

“Oh, baby,” he crooned, kissing her convulsing clit. “You come so hard.”

He crawled up to her and she grasped his face, kissing him, tasting herself on him, shifting her hips and rubbing his shaft between her wet folds.

His groan was short, and he gathered her close, kissing the sides of her face, under her chin, the hollow of her neck. After a while, she could stand it no more, bucking her hips, begging for it.

He complied, moving his hips back, gripping cock and rubbing it up and down her slit. The blunt head of his cock started to enter her, and she moaned loud. “I know, baby. I’ll go slow.”

Inch by inch, he entered her, softly cursing in French as he finally sank in.

Taelour closed her eyes. It felt incredible. She pushed her hips up, and he pressed a hand to her hip, hissed, and started moving with measured thrusts. His mouth skimmed over face and down her neck. He murmured words she couldn’t make out, but sensed they were loving and sweet. They rocked together, both panting, holding on to one another.

Rhemy ran a palm from her thigh to her breast, kneading it tenderly, circling it with the pad of his thumb. Frissons of pleasure crawled through blood. She bowed her back and he dipped his head, licking the tip, sucking, then licking again.

He was in no hurry, and she yearned for him to love her body as long as he wanted. She explored his physique, feeling muscles moving beneath him. And when he finally started to increase his thrusts, she grabbed his ass, feeling it clench.

“I want to ride you.”

He slid an arm under her back and brought her with him as he sat up. “Yes, Taelour. Baise-moi.”

She didn’t speak French, but she knew what that meant. She wrapped her legs around his waist and bucked her hips as he buried his head in her chest, moaning. He squeezed her breasts together, mouthing one nipple, then another, scraping his unshaven jaw along the tender skin. Every part of her felt loved. She cried out, riding him faster.

“Oh, my gods...” He grabbed her ass, digging his fingers in, gritting his teeth.

A sensation overpowered Taelour. A maddening one she’d never felt before with a lover. Ever. Her teeth came down sharp, pulsing for blood. The craving to bite was uncontrollable, in line with the rush starting between her thighs.

She was going to come, and she was going to take.

Eyes rolling back, she gripped the back of his head, trying to resist. She should ask first, but the words stuck in her throat, the urge irresistible, unstoppable.

“Give me blood,” she begged in a ragged whisper. Before he could respond, she blindly sank her teeth in his vein.

Rhemy’s body jerked. He let out a shocked yell, locking his arms around her waist.

His blood filled her mouth like a shot of adrenaline, hot and rich. Deeper, she dug in. Her turned black, vision gone, and her hunger multiplied, forcing her to drink more and more.

But he didn’t tell her stop.

He moved her to her back, but she held on, continuing to plunge between her thighs.

Rhemy cursed again, groaning loud as she drank.

And a feeling so brand new, but so blissful, rushed through her veins, paralyzing her. Eyes wide, she released his neck, his blood sliding from the corners of her mouth, the orgasm bursting through and blitzing through her brain. Tears streamed from her eyes, the emotions too powerful and foreign to decipher.

Time shifted. Every thrust of him inside her seemed to happen in slow motion, his groans were like echoes, her own breathing sounding as though it was coming from another place. She felt high, drugged, sleepy, and as though she was underwater. His name came out of her mouth but was sluggish and questioning.

Then, like a switch, everything resumed to a normal speed.

Rhemy gazed into her eyes, wiping the tears away, slowing.

“Taelour.”

Oh, gods. What did she do?

Seconds later, he shuddered, pushed up, and came inside her with a groan.

She stared up at the ceiling, in disbelief, trying to catch her breath.

They did have a connection, and it was only getting more complicated. She wasn’t his fated, and therefore they could never be more than lovers in the eyes of anyone, especially the gods, unless they avowed.

Her heart, while still racing, broke just a little at the thought.

Perhaps that was a good thing.

Despite his declaration to find a way for them to go to the Centurias, she sensed if she’d been his fated, that would never happen.

Because as a lover, he was willing to stand by her side, but as her fated, he would only stand in her way.

When Taelour woke up later, her teeth were sharp the second she opened her eyes, the sound of Rhemy’s pulsing vein reverberating in her ear.

The sheet lay just under his navel, showing a peek of the trimmed, dark hair below, and the head of his cock. Even while he slept, he was erect. She couldn’t resist staring at him for a while, marveling at his masculine beauty, every part of him turning her on.

She reached out and tenderly rubbed her hand along the sheet where his cock was, and he stirred with a moan, but didn’t wake. Unable to resist, she moved down and pulled the sheet away.

She kissed his hip, wrapped her hand around his cock, and licked the head. She forced her teeth back to normal.

Rhemy moaned, then moaned louder. “Taelour. What are you do—ah, merde.”

She sucked his head and stroked the shaft, slowly, feeling it twitch and stiffen almost instantly. He hissed and moved his hips, muttering incoherently. She got on her knees and bent over to lick him even better, and the second her naked ass was in the air, he was caressing it, rubbing his fingers along her wet slit.

Up and down she worked his cock while he lightly tapped her ass and fingered her pussy, distracting her. She moaned, trying to concentrate on him when he just kept distracting her with his wandering hands.

“Come here, sugar,” he said hoarsely. “I want to taste you.”

She did as told, straddled him backward, positioning her sex above his face, before going down on him again.

“Goddamn. My perfect little peach.” He chartered her ass with his hands, licked her, then squeezed her cheeks.

Holy fuck, did he know what she liked. She squeezed her eyes, desperate to keep her teeth from descending and nicking his cock. Faster she sucked and twisted, determined to make him come before she did. His tongue was wicked good though, and he moved his mouth like a grateful man licking his favorite dessert.

No one had paid so much attention to her pussy like that. She arched, pulling her mouth off to cry out, but continued to stroke him. She couldn’t help it. She was going to come.

In a haze, she put her mouth back on him, taking him in deep, and he cried out, cursed, and resumed giving her the best oral ever. When her body could take no more, Taelour gave in and clenched her knees, the pleasure overwhelming. She threw back her head, screaming.

Rhemy clamped his hands on her thighs, tightened like a bow, and released his come in hot, full spurts.

She collapsed on her back, her head on the end of the bed, near his feet.

After a few seconds, he changed position to join her, wiping her hand with a tissue he’d grabbed off the nightstand.

“Thank you,” she smiled. “Are your neighbors going to call the cops? As you’ve heard twice now, I’m a bit of a noisemaker.”

“Yes, you are.” He kissed her hand. “I love that I can make you do that. But don’t worry, I own this block, and it’s mostly businesses around here. They’re closed this time of night. Besides, human cops stopped coming ’round here a long time ago.”

“You own the buildings on each side?”

“For a while now.” He tossed the tissue to a wastebasket. “I like that I don’t have to contend with anyone. I had to have a place for my gambling joint, and I rent out the space in one building for storage, and if a friend of mine needs a place to hide out, they can stay in one of the apartments in the building at the end. That’s where most of the band members live.”

Taelour blinked. He’d said his fortune and world was considerably smaller since he gave up the luxe hotel, which led her to believe he was living a modest, though comfortable life. Obviously, “smaller” was an understatement. His apartment alone was probably worth half a million, with its river view and proximity to the French Quarter. He owned an entire block, for crying out loud.

She was once again reminded of the differences between them. He was a fateblood. She was not. They would never be blessed with children. The gods would only grant that to his fated. The one they’d chosen for him.

Taelour yearned for a big family, like the one she grew up in. To do that, she’d have to find another pürblood. Also, it was clear Rhemy had money and prestige in New Orleans, despite his tarnished status in the prestigious underworld community. She had neither money nor status, and he would definitely despise her roughneck brothers. She just knew it.

The two of them were so blatantly mismatched. Yet…despite it all, could she be with him anyway?

The answer was an easy no.

Rhemy caught the emotion of dismay coming over her. “Something wrong?”

“No.” She pushed it aside, forcing out the melancholy, feeling lust take over once more. “I’m glad I got that cab.”

“What cab?”

“The one with the jacket, with the red card, with your name. I’m glad I asked Porter about it. I’m very glad he said we should meet there.”

His smiled faded, with awe in his gaze, he moved a lock of her hair to her back. “I owe him everything for it.”

Her heart lurched at the sincerity in his words. She chose not to let them in, and aimed to make a joke. “Now that’s not funny. You tell Calvin you owe him and he’ll ride you hard until the end of time.”

“Come here,” he cajoled, tugging her arm and pulling her on top of him. “No one is ridin’ me except you.”

Ah, so this is what bliss is like.

Rhemy laid his back on the edge of the double slipper porcelain tub, took a drag from his Swisher Sweet cigarillo, and exhaled through his nose, the distinctive sound of Adderley’s Dancing in the Dark playing on a vintage record player.

Years ago, he had the tub situated in front of the French doors near the river view, but hadn’t really used it. Once he placed a drunk human friend in it to sleep off the booze, and another time he used it to handwash his clothes. It was nothing more than a showpiece.

At that moment, he was actually taking a bath in his bathtub, and the most enticing woman occupied it with him. Oh, but look at her. All that hair up on her head, a few curls sticking to her face from the steam, those spellbinding eyes looking at him with desire.

They’d made love a few times now, and yet he was nowhere near satisfied, which was irregular, since having sex once with a woman—but sometimes numerous nights with two women—was enough to satisfy him. Not with Taelour, however. Having her only made him extra voracious, but for now, he would give her a rest, let her soak in his perfumed bath, and talk.

And, good gods, he really enjoyed their rapport and banter, hearing her views on pop culture, human politics, underworld affairs, art, even sports…and she knew a lot more about sports than he did, which amused him. Had to be her brothers’ influence. Curious enough, she was reluctant to talk about them, though it’d been obvious she loved and adored all four. He wondered if she would hesitate to introduce him to them, with his immortal forsaken standing.

Would they disapprove of him?

Of course they would. He would. Nevertheless, he would avow her, and deal with any familial conflict in stride. No matter if it took every ounce of charm, every penny of his savings, and every night of his life to get them to like him.

Her gaze shifted to his hand as he brought cigarillo to his lips.

“What is the significance of the ring on your forefinger?” she asked.

He slowly blew out the smoke. “It’s just a ring.”

“And that’s just a lie.”

Hmm, how clever she was. “It belonged to someone. He gave it to me.”

“Who was he?”

“A friend.”

She regarded him with a careful eye, as though she knew he spoke of someone who was no longer in his life. “What happened to him?”

He dropped his gaze, biting the inside of his cheek before he answered. “Shifters happened.”

The silence expanded. “Oh, Rhemy. Forgive me for asking.”

“Forgiven. It was a long time ago.”

From an outsider’s perspective, the murder of his friend should’ve made Rhemy hate shifters justifiably, not seek to understand and befriend them. No one knew his friend was the reason he’d started the “covenpack” society. Daulton might be famous for seeking to unite the shifters and vampires, but he wasn’t the first. “His name was Elijah. Do you know who Marex Daulton is?”

“Who doesn’t?”

“Then you’ve probably heard of his soul mate. Nadine. She and Elijah were lovers, and were nearly avowed, but he died before that happened. Even though he was a pürblood, he loved her very much, and she’d given up finding her fated. Then he was bled out by a pack of shifter wolves when they caught him on their territory. The underworld as a whole think it was the UCC soldiers who killed him. Only a few know the truth.”

“Why only a few?”

“Better to hate our own than give others a reason to avenge in Elijah’s name. Retaliation just recycles the hate. Elijah wouldn’t want it.”

She stared at him awhile, awe in her eyes. “You…you really do amaze me, Rhemy.”

Her soft words made him yearn for her again. He snuffed out his cigarillo, and pulled her toward him. Looking up at her, he ran his hand over her delectable ass, his dick hard as stone, ready to slide inside her again.

She kissed him, hard, and he was a man lost in desire’s storm once more. He wrapped his arms around her and pushed her to her back against the tub, delving his tongue in and kissing her like it was the last thing he ever wanted to do. Since the tub didn’t allow her spread wide, she pushed him away to set her calves on his shoulders. He gave a feral smile.

He gripped the edge of the tub behind her and entered her sweet pussy, thrusting slow and steady and sending glops of water over the edge. He dropped his head back with a moan, could never get deep enough, constantly feeling something was missing, even though the pleasure was levels beyond anything he’d felt before.

“Yes,” she said. “Fuck me.” She groaned, threading her fingers behind his neck, her head tilted back, teeth biting her bottom lip.

More. Harder. Deeper.

She told him all these things and more and he complied like a helpless, willing slave.

His canines lengthened as he plunged his hips, feeling his balls tighten, close to climaxing, so desperate to bite her and feed. To take her blood would be the ultimate high, and she’d done it the first time they were together. He didn’t know why, but by the gods, he was damn near close to begging for it. He wanted to take her blood and come inside her with such need, he was trembling at the thought of it.

“Rhemy…Rhemy,” she panted, bucking beneath him suddenly, more water leaving the tub than remaining within.

He hung his head, trying to force his teeth back, reining in the wild longing, squeezing his eyes shut. Her small cries swelled to louder ones, and he felt his orgasm on the verge of exploding.

Faster and faster they grinded, and for a second, he nearly bit into her inner thigh out of sheer, intense need, but somehow he managed not to, groaning hard as she milked his cock, and stole the gods-loving soul out of him.

A word echoed in his mind, but he couldn’t make it out, too stoned on the aftereffect of his orgasm to listen, to care. Then it vanished as he caught his breath and slipped away from her.

“Gods, Taelour…every time just gets more…” More what? Insanely good? Was good even the right word?

She brought her head back from its recline, her eyes watery, avoiding his. “I know,” she said, reaching over for a towel on the standing holder.

Did she know? Was the connection as powerful for her as it was for him? She climbed out and started to dry off. Rhemy had the distinct impression she wanted away from him. He got out of the tub, brows drawing together as he wrapped a towel around his waist.

She reached for her dress and carelessly put it on. “I need to go. It’s almost sunrise. I have just enough time to get home.”

He ran a hand through his hair, sensing her disconnecting from him, and it felt like he was falling, with nothing to grip. “You don’t have to.” She moved even faster, searching for her shoes. Why was she rushing off? “At least slow down. We don’t move that fast in the south,” he joked, hoping to ease her with humor.

It didn’t work.

“It’s almost sunrise, Rhemy.”

She already said that. He glanced outside. She had over an hour. “How far do you live?”

“At least thirty minutes away.”

Even so, he wasn’t ready, didn’t want to say goodbye, and didn’t understand why she had to suddenly take off, as if he’d upset her. He frankly couldn’t see how, since mere minutes ago she was calling his name in ecstasy.

He sighed, at a loss, pulled the duvet off the floor and found her shoes. “Talk to me.”

She searched his gaze, opening her mouth, then closed it. “I’ve been here all night and my brothers are probably worried.”

“So call them. Tell them you’re spendin’ the day hours here. Surely they’ll understand.”

She picked up her shoes, avoiding his gaze. “I’d rather sleep in my own bed today.”

A burst of possession made his eyes flash. “Taelour, wait. I want to avow you—”

“Are you crazy? I’m a pürblood.”

“I know, and I don’t care.”

“Well, I do. We’re too different. I can’t be with a vampire the gods made for another.”

“Another who may never appear. You’re the one that’s here right now. The one I want in my arms and my life.”

“You haven’t found her, so I’m the next-best option? I know there are a few fatebloods who’ve avowed to a pürblood, but I won’t do that. Why can’t we just be together without an avowal?”

“Because we are meant to be more than lovers, Taelour. You know our kind can’t resist the lust of others if we don’t avow. And I want you to be mine, and mine alone.” Yes, by the gods yes, that was the only way. The thought of another touching her made his mind black with jealousy.

“Rhemy, you haven’t thought this through. An avowal is a big deal.”

“I don’t have to think. It feels right.” He searched her gaze, trying to make her understand.

“Part of me…” she started, then shook her head. “No. It might feel right, but it’d be wrong.”

“No, it wouldn’t.” His heart sank. He understood, but gods, he was losing her. No, it wasn’t the norm for a fateblood to avow a pürblood, but nothing about his life was the norm anyhow. Was there nothing he could say to stop her? Panicking on the inside as he watched her slip on her heels, his mind raced with what to do. To his detriment, he had to let her run.

He followed as she turned for his front door. Snatching her hand, he yanked her to him and captured her mouth in his. She whimpered as he parted her lips and dipped his tongue inside, needing a taste before she left. Something to go on for the hours he’d be without her.

She broke away, breathing hard, fingers tremoring as she touched her lips. “Last night was incredible.”

“Stay with me.”

“I have to go—”

Helpless, he pushed her against the pillar, claiming her mouth, crazed with the thought he might not get to again. He went slow, methodical, reminding her what she was giving up, using his hands how she liked and hearing her moan. “See? You will hunger for me.”

She exhaled shakily, briefly closing her eyes. “Yes.”

“Then why go?”

“I need time, Rhemy. To think.”

“How long?”

“I don’t know. A few days. Give me a few days. Please.” She sidestepped away from him and left.

He stared at the door, dumbfounded, already longing for her to come back.

A few days? Fine. But not a minute more.

He exhaled, jaw clenched, teeth sharp.

Every fiber of his being demanded he go after her, but she had to choose him, too.

He pressed his palms on the door, his body shaking as he tried to rein in the powerful urge to bring her back, finding it maddeningly difficult.

Chest heaving, he sank to his knees, at a loss at the need in him, a need that should only come with finding his fated, or so he’d been told. Confused, he wondered if he ever did meet her, how he could ever possibly want her more than he wanted Taelour.

A love like that could only be sheer madness.

Day one was a blur.

Rhemy slept in restless increments, always waking up with Taelour’s name on his lips, his head pounding, his head numb with longing.

He gave up on rest, took a shower, and left his apartment at dusk, as was his routine. Since it was Monday, the club was closed, but the casino was open, and he spent most of his evening there, socializing with the gamblers. To the poker players’ delight, he even started a private game, with a $25,000 buy-in, ten players, including himself. The enticement of a quarter-million-dollar purse was too tempting for his high-rollers, and he had a full table within a matter of minutes.

He played a little loose, smoked and drank, and was able to kill six whole hours of the night, losing to a big-bellied Texas oil man. Taelour only crossed his mind a thousand times or so. He headed up to his apartment in his drunken haze, and slept in his chair.

Day two did not go as well.

It was a slow night at the club, both for the bar and for the casino. Tuesdays were always a quiet night, but this Tuesday was exceptionally molasses-slow. He thought for sure he would hear from Taelour. A call. A text. She had his number, right? Then again, he didn’t remember giving it to her at any point during the weekend.

How the hell was she going to reach him?

He didn’t have her phone number or her address, but it was easy enough to find the former. He called Calvin Porter—who’d lost the entire credit Rhemy had awarded him—and got her cell number with no protest from the weasel. After pacing his place like a caged tiger, debating, he finally sent a text asking Taelour to call him.

She didn’t.

Day three was hell. By midnight, Rhemy’s patience was spent.

As soon as the sun lowered into the horizon, he considered her deadline passed.

He missed her. Needed her. He could talk her back to his bed, he had no doubt. Her reservations about being with a fateblood were understood, but they would overcome them.

He was going crazy, literally. Damn her for fucking with his head and heart and walking away with all the power.

Damn her.

He started to dial her number, but hung up. No. He had to see her. He picked up his landline and called someone who he knew could get information fast.

“I need an address…When? Yesterday.”