It took all of Mateo’s willpower not to pull Selena into his arms and crush her body to his.

She was okay. She was alive. And she was right here in front of him.

He needed to get a grip, calm the fuck down, and focus on what he came here to do—ensure her safety through whatever means possible and kill the Darkblood scum responsible for harvesting her blood.

He’d been on pins and needles since leaving New Orleans, pausing only to refuel on the way up to British Columbia. Given that he had a DayTran-equipped sports car to protect him from the energy-depleting sun, even daylight hadn’t stopped him.

As soon as he’d recognized that the blood from the vial was hers, he’d done a frantic search of the Agency’s databases, only to come up empty-handed. The names of known sweetblood humans were kept highly confidential within the local field offices, so he wasn’t sure what he’d been hoping—or not hoping—to find. A call to the Horseshoe Bay region hadn’t turned up much information either. She hadn’t been listed as missing, nor was there an obituary. Which meant there was a chance she was still alive. But if so, that meant Darkbloods were either holding her captive somewhere and using her as a blood donor, or they were visiting her unsuspectingly.

All this time, he’d assumed she was relatively safe on Vancouver Island where the vampire population was sparse. Because vampires couldn’t process sunlight into the energy needed to survive, they had to get it from human hosts by drinking their blood and absorbing it via physical touch. Human blood was more potent in regions with high UV levels, so vampires preferred living there. Cloudy, rainy climates like the Northwest, where the sun may not shine for months, weren’t nearly as popular.

Clearly, he’d been wrong, and he couldn’t get up there fast enough.

Now, here she was, standing before him, looking even more beautiful than he remembered.

Inhaling deeply, he drew her sweet scent into his lungs, thankful for the desensitization training he’d gone through since that last, disastrous time they’d been together. He quickly shoved those thoughts out of his mind, not wanting to dwell on past mistakes. He had a job to do, nothing more, then he would leave.

“Mateo?” Selena said, dark eyes wide. She frowned, as if his name sounded strange to say after all these years. “What are you doing here?”

He took a step back, allowing his gaze to roam lazily over her from head to toe, searing her into his brain. He would need these vivid memories to refer to later. He’d fucked a lot of women these past few years in the hopes of getting Selena out of his head. And it had worked…for the most part. Although he hadn’t fallen in love with anyone else, he no longer thought about her every hour of every day.

Her dark hair was shorter now, skimming just the tops of her shoulders and secured off her face by a rolled-up pink bandana. The faded concert T-shirt she wore was covered in flour and smudges of chocolate. Skinny jeans hugged that gorgeous ass of hers, and on her feet was a pair of not-quite-white sneakers. She still had that same casual, easy-going air about her that said not only was she comfortable with herself, but that you didn’t need to change either.

He’d forgotten how it was to be around her. Having grown up in a family with rigid expectations that he’d always fallen short of, he’d never felt that pressure with Selena. It was one of the reasons he fell for her in the first place. He’d loved how he felt about himself when he was with her, that he was enough just the way he was.

His gaze met hers, and that’s when he noticed the dark, faintly blue circles underneath her eyes. It was a classic sign of the longterm fatigue of a blood donor.

Grinding his teeth together to keep his temper under control, he willed his fangs not to descend. Even though it wasn’t entirely unexpected, seeing her like this, an unwitting victim, made him want to destroy something. Punch his fist through something. Hunt down whoever was responsible and rip out their throats.

Patience, he told himself. That will come. Just don’t scare her. Not again.

The first order of business was to get her to safety. Everything else was secondary.

He shrugged, trying to act casual. “I was hungry. Thought I’d stop by.”

She blinked and looked around. “Where’s Paula, my employee?”

“Gone,” he said, matching her flat tone.

Fury flashed momentarily in her brown eyes. “I can see that.”

Leaning back against the counter, he liked that he was having an effect on her, even if it was negative. He could handle anger. It was a thousand times better than indifference. “She said you were napping in the back and that she was going to deliver the food samples to your customer.”

Selena raised a brow at him. “Seriously?”

“Yeah. Why?” He wasn’t lying. Not exactly.

She crossed her arms over her chest. She clearly wasn’t buying his explanation. “She left you, a stranger, here with me asleep in the back room?”

“I’m not a stranger.”

“She doesn’t know that,” Selena snapped.

“What can I say?” He spread his hands wide. “I look trustworthy, I guess.”

The look on her face made him glad there wasn’t a frying pan within reach.

When he’d arrived, the pink-haired girl had been bustling around the kitchen. Sensing Selena was somewhere nearby, he’d turned on the charm and learned Paula was putting the finishing touches on food Selena was going to be taking to a customer. It was easy enough to implant a mind suggestion that she should deliver it instead.

With a frustrated groan, Selena grabbed her cell phone. Hand on her hip, she tapped her foot as she made a call. Apparently no one answered, because she then began to violently stab out a text message. Brows furrowed, she stared at the screen, waiting for a response. “Dang it, Paula. Where are you?”

“Driving?”

Selena’s head shot up. “What?”

“She could be a big believer in no texting and driving.” Without waiting for what would undoubtedly be a scathing reply, he added, “Don’t you trust her?”

Selena sighed and rubbed her forehead. Tucking the phone into the back pocket of her jeans, she opened the refrigerator and peered inside. “Unfortunately, I don’t. Looks like she got everything, though, but I have no idea if she even knows how to get there.”

“If it makes you feel any better,” Mateo said, “she did seem to know what she was doing. I helped her load the car.”

Selena glanced at him over her shoulder and looked him up and down. “You haven’t changed, have you? Always managing to charm people, even when they should know better.”

Her expression softened for a moment, as if she were remembering something pleasant, but just as quickly, her eyes turned brittle again.

Even though he knew it was for the best that Selena despise him—hell, he hated himself for what he had done and would never forgive himself either—he couldn’t deny that it hurt.

Spotting a small glass filled with toothpicks, he grabbed one and stuck it in his mouth. “What can I say? It’s a gift.”

She brushed a white smudge of flour on her T-shirt as if that were more interesting to look at than him. “What brings you here after, what, four years?”

Four years, two months and eleven days to be exact.

He cleared his throat and moved the toothpick to the other side of his mouth. Now for the real lie. “My parents are thinking about selling the family estate, so I thought I’d come back and check it out before it’s gone.”

“And where’s home for you now?” Her tone was conversational, like she didn’t really give a shit but felt obliged to ask.

“New Orleans.”

“And you haven’t been back?”

Not since the night I nearly killed you.

His parents had pulled in all sorts of favors to have that horrible incident buried. Selena’s mind had been wiped. The minds of their human friends who’d witnessed what happened had been wiped. Suggested memories had been implanted with the EMTs and hospital staff. According to his father, who’d proceeded to beat the shit out of him later that night, it had been one huge fucking mess.

But in the end, they were right. He’d just about killed the woman he loved. And nothing, not even love, was worth paying that price.

He shook his head. “Just wanted to see how you were doing. That’s all.”

Her nostrils flared as she pointed a finger at him. “You’re an asshole, you know that, Mateo?” She paused, her anger gaining momentum. “A cowardly, selfish asshole. I’ve moved on, in case you haven’t noticed. I have no interest—none—in hooking up with you again, if that’s what you really came here for.”

Her words cut like a knife. “I didn’t,” he said coldly.

Did she really think that was why he’d come here? A quick fuck for old time’s sake? He was an asshole, sure, but he’d never use her like that.

He looked around the efficient but tiny kitchen, seeing her touch everywhere. Various pans, utensils and ingredients were stacked neatly on the counters and shelves. Selena had always been an amazing baker. Cookies, brownies, pies, cakes. You name it. He used to sit in her kitchen for hours and watch her concoct stuff.

“Tosca Catering,” he said, noting the hand-lettered sign over the door. “Congratulations. Looks like you’re doing well for yourself.”

Selena shrugged as if his compliment meant nothing to her.

“You ever find your mom’s lemon cake recipe?” he asked.

She drew in a sharp breath. “You…remember that?”

“Of course. How could I forget?”

Selena had told him how her mother used to bake lemon cake for her father—his all-time favorite—but after her mother died, her father couldn’t find the recipe, and he feared his wife had never written it down. Selena had been determined to make her father the same lemon cake, so when she was old enough, she tried recipe after recipe.

“Although having tasted yours,” he said, “I can’t see how any other cake could come close to being as good.”

She paused for a moment, chewing the inside of her lip. Then, without a word, she opened the refrigerator and soon set a plate down in front of him filled with several confections, including a thin slice of lemon cake.

He glanced at her, both shocked at the kind gesture and yet, not really surprised. She’d always had this thing about feeding people. Said it fed her spirit. Guess that hadn’t changed.

“Go on. Eat,” she said. “And then you’re going to leave.”

And you’re coming with me.

He wasted no time digging in. Although he’d fed from a human when he’d stopped for gas in Boise and sated his appetite, he would never in a million years pass up a dessert that Selena made.

“So. Damn. Good,” he said through mouthfuls of cake. “Even better than I remembered.” It literally melted in his mouth. The perfect combination of tart and sweet. He was basically having a mouth orgasm right now.

Selena didn’t look at him as she tidied up the kitchen, although he did catch the hint of a smile a few times.

“How are your parents?” she asked. “I heard they moved out of the area.”

He didn’t look up. “Don’t know. We don’t keep in contact. How about your father?”

She studied him a moment before answering. “He’s fine.”

“Tell him…I said hello.” He’d always liked her father, though he didn’t want to think about how the man felt about him now. After Mateo’s sudden departure, he had to be on the man’s shit list.

He finished the lemon cake and wasted no time wolfing down a small, raspberry-filled pastry and a caramel nut bar. “Delicious.”

Then he reached for the chocolate truffle.

It was large. Bigger than a golf ball. He should’ve eaten it in two bites. Maybe three. But no, he had to pop the whole goddamn thing into his mouth at once. But as soon as he bit down, he knew he was in trouble.

“What the fuck!” He spit it out, his hand flying up to cover his emerging fangs. He jumped to the sink and began rinsing the taste from his mouth.

“You…don’t like it?” she said from behind. “It’s a chocolate truffle. With rum.”

Like hell it was. He coughed and choked, trying to ignore the sudden and powerful call of her blood, but all he could think about was sinking his fangs into the tender skin of her neck. Then swallowing. And swallowing. And swallowing.

“You okay?” She touched his back and he flinched.

“No. Get away!” His voice was raw and frayed, and his willpower began to unravel.

He wished he could implant a suggestion to make her barricade herself in her office, but that would mean getting closer to her, and there was no way he trusted himself enough to do that.

That truffle—that delicious fucking truffle—was made with Sweet. And now that he’d had a taste, his dark nature wanted more.