The next night ~ twenty-four hours later

When Kiera opened her eyes, she was groggy, hazy, and disoriented, but she no longer felt any pain. In fact, she was soaking in a bathtub full of sweet-smelling salts and luxurious bubble-bath, and her body felt divine.

Healthy.

Strong.

Invincible…

Healed.

She glanced around the room—it still looked curiously like Owen’s warehouse—but that couldn’t be the case; there was no debris scattered in the tub. And when she glanced down at her body, she didn’t see any scars—her hands, wrists, and chest were flawless. She swept the bubbles aside and peeked at her stomach, her thighs, and her feet—they were perfect, too! In fact, her skin was positively glowing.

She turned her head lazily to the side…

And smiled.

Oh. Dear. Lord.

She had definitely died and gone to heaven.

Kneeling beside the bathtub was the single most beautiful angel, or saint, or Elysian god her eyes had ever seen: While it was impossible to be sure with him kneeling like that, he had to be at least six-foot-two or three, with gorgeous hazel eyes the color of caramel, and pale-ash hair that was neat on the sides, wispy at the front, and elegantly tapered along a strong, masculine neck. His jaw was chiseled and angled—so was his perfect chin—and the soft, dark goatee that framed his mouth in a silken shadow was so manicured it looked pristine. His features—seriously, who looked like that?—were positively flawless. His almond-shaped eyes were wide-set beneath perfect dark brows; his nose and his cheekbones were a fine work of art; and those lips—those sensual, full, expertly sculpted lips—turned slightly out, and up, in all the right places. He oozed carnality, exuded masculinity, and radiated primal swagger.

He was quite simply the most exquisitely handsome man Kiera had ever laid eyes on.

And he was staring at her like she was the only planet in his galaxy.

He reached across the bubbles and brushed his thumb along her lower lip in a possessive, sensual gesture. “How are you feeling, iubito?”

Iubito.

She had heard that word before, but she couldn’t quite place it.

She cleared her throat to test her voice, then immediately took note of her nudity, gathering a host of clustered bubbles and sweeping them up to her neck to cover her naked breasts. He chuckled, and the sound was like music. “I’m…I’m…I’m dead, I guess,” she squeaked. “And this”—she glanced around the room; it still looked like Owen’s bathroom—“this is heaven?”

He shook his head and smiled. “No, Kiera. You are still on Earth. With me.”

She frowned. Her mind was still full of cotton. “I don’t understand,” she whispered, not sure if she wanted any answers. She just wanted to float in the water, luxuriate in the sweet-smelling salts, and lose herself in his possessive gaze.

For the first time in days, she felt safe.

Content.

Completely at peace.

He rocked back leisurely, planted his weight on his butt, and wrapped two muscular arms around his knees. “What do you remember, angel? From the last twenty-four hours?”

Kiera furrowed her brow. “Um…nothing, really.” She tried to think. “I remember…I remember dying…I remember Owen.” She shot up in sudden alarm, sending water sloshing over the rim of the tub. “Oh, God! I remember Owen…and Mike, and Jon, and Nick!” She glanced hastily around the room. “Where are they?”

Her guardian angel growled, almost like a prowling lion, and something lethal flashed through his eyes. “Mike, Jon, and Nick are no longer with us—they no longer inhabit this earth—and Owen, well, let’s just say he’s hanging out somewhere near the top of the ceiling, awaiting my devoted attention.”

Kiera gulped.

“Shh, iubitio,” the angel whispered. “There is no need for concern. I am with you, and you are safe. Nothing—and no one—will harm you.”

Kiera licked her bottom lip, trying to make sense of his words, and then the most basic of questions finally surfaced: “Who are you? What are you? Are you my guardian angel?”

He smiled, radiating warmth like the sunrise at dawn, leaned toward the tub, and gently reached for her hand. Then he kissed the center of her palm and closed his eyes, but only for a moment. “I am definitely your guardian angel, but no, that is not my species…my origin. Kiera, I am Vampyr, a member of an ancient species that has walked the earth for over twenty-eight hundred years. And my name is—”

“Saxson,” she whispered ominously, putting the pieces together. “Your name is Saxson, isn’t it?” He nodded, and her hand rose to her mouth, covering her sharp inhalation. “Then you’re real,” she mumbled into her palm. “And you were with…Kyla.”

He nodded once again. “Yes, on both counts.”

This time, she was the one who closed her eyes.

She needed a moment to think…to remember.

Kyla had given Kiera to her vampire-hunting friends, in order to take Kiera’s place…Kiera’s place with Saxson…somewhere called Dark Moon Vale. And she had gotten a tattoo—

Kyla had…

Kiera stared at her own healthy wrist, studying the markings of Cetus, the sea monster. The emblem was definitely still there. She rubbed her temples—her forehead was beginning to ache—as she strained to reassemble the scattered pieces of the mysterious puzzle.

Xavier had taken her to his lab.

He had wanted to study her blood.

He had said something about a destiny, whatever that was, and he had hurt her—dear God, how he’d hurt her.

And then that cosmic voice, that disembodied sound, it had whispered in Kiera’s mind: “Try to reach Saxson. Your bond is strong. He may be your only hope.”

She had tried.

But she had failed…

Only he was sitting here, now, right beside the bathtub. He was with her in Owen’s warehouse. Her head throbbed, the room swayed, and another memory assailed her: brutality; being carved up; Jon, Mike, and Nick, eager to defile and rape her.

The room had turned black, the music muting in the distance. Then Saxson had leaped onto the table.

He had bitten her.

He had tortured her!

She stood up in the tub, scrambling to escape another captor, and she almost careened backward, into the enclosure wall—but Saxson was there in an instant.

He caught her trembling frame and reached for a nearby bath towel. “Kiera! Slow down, baby. You’re under the influence of a sedative. Come here.” He motioned her forward, still bracing her by the shoulders. “Step over the rim…slowly…be careful.”

She obliged him on trembling legs, not knowing who—or what—to trust, but certain she couldn’t fight him.

“Okay,” he encouraged kindly, “now just stand still…lean against the counter…hang on while I dry you off.” He patted her down with the towel as best as he could, avoiding any place too intimate. Then he wrapped another towel around her recently shampooed hair and draped her in a clean terrycloth robe.

There was nothing menacing about him.

Despite what she knew, what she sort of remembered, Saxson was being gentle and caring…infinitely patient.

Kiera forced her fear aside. Right now, what she needed were answers, and she had no doubt that Saxson had them. “We need to get out of here,” she finally whispered, gesturing toward the bathroom door. “You don’t understand: The men in this warehouse—they were all vampire-hunters. Saxson, Kyla is a vampire-hunter. And their leader, their Head Hunter—he’s a man named Xavier, and as impossible as this sounds, he’s a werewolf! I know it sounds crazy, but I saw it myself. I actually watched him shift.”

“Sh…sh…sh,” Saxson murmured. “It’s okay. Everything’s all right. Just breathe, baby, I know. We’re several steps ahead of you. And we are going to get the heck out of Dodge—we only stayed because I had to convert you, and we needed to make sure you were stable. After that, I wanted to wash the blood and sweat from your hair, get the grime off your body. In the meantime, Nathaniel brought you a bottle of Valium from a nearby pharmacy, and Julien hot-wired a couple SUVs—so you and I can talk privately while we drive, and the two of them can follow. We know all about Xavier, and we’re keeping an eye out—but for now, I just need you to come with me. I promise, Kiera, everything will be explained. And I swear on the souls of my parents, you are safe.”

Kiera blinked several times, her mind shutting down from the overload: Nathaniel? Julien? They hot-wired a car? And what the hell did he mean—he converted her?

Kiera was a strong woman, and she rarely, if ever, felt faint.

Yet for some inexplicable reason, her stomach roiled, her knees buckled, and the floor shifted beneath her.

Oh, shit. She was going to pass out.

The last thing she saw was the bathroom wall spinning as Saxson lunged forward to catch her.