Saxson Olaru rolled his eyes as he stepped outside onto his high, clifftop veranda, with its stunning views of the vista below: acres of forest, filled with towering pines, quaking aspens, and green or blue spruce trees; meandering rivers snaking through the valley; and a hidden mountain lake abutting the edge of the western vale.

He stared blankly at his twin, Ramsey, and then his older brother, Santos, before sighing in frustration: It was 3:30 in the morning; Saxson and Kyla had just made it back to the clifftop retreat, about fifteen minutes earlier; and Ramsey and Santos wouldn’t take “everything is fine” for an answer.

They had to see Saxson for themselves.

“Seriously, warriors?” Saxson grunted as he glared at each of his brothers in turn.

“Lose the attitude,” Ramsey grumbled, trying to sound authoritative and hard. “Where’s the girl?”

“Woman,” Saxson corrected, “and she’s sitting inside on a barstool, all alone at the kitchen island, waiting for me to get back inside. To join her.”

Santos craned his neck, trying to peek over Saxson’s shoulder.

“No,” Saxson warned him. “Not happening, Santos. You can meet her some other time. What the heck is up with you guys?”

Ramsey stroked his chin, worrying his two-day-old stubble, as he tried to play it off. “Um, you need to follow up with Julien…about the VOSU job…we figured we would just check in, get our own, short debriefing.” He shifted his eyes guiltily. “How’d everything go with Anthony Beckman and Julius Schaffer, anyhow? What happened with Nathaniel’s guy?”

“They’re dead,” Saxson said brusquely. “Is that brief enough?”

Ramsey ignored the sarcasm. “So, that’s the entire job, right? All of the VOSU stalkers have been handled, and Rebecca can get on with her life?”

Saxson stared blankly at his fraternal twin. Ramsey Olaru was a lot of things, but keeper of the house, carrier of messages, and one to follow up on another male’s destiny, Rebecca Lacusta’s state of mind—nah, he wasn’t any of those things. “Ramsey—”

“Julien doesn’t need anything else on his plate,” the ruthless warrior explained.

“Ramsey.”

The vampire flinched, his GQ good looks giving way to a hardened expression. “What?”

“You came all the way across the valley to southern Dark Moon Vale—at 3:30 in the morning, no less—to ask me about Julien’s list? To ask me if Nathaniel and I handled our business? Oh, and by the way, I already checked in with Julien, so this has nothing to do with the tracker. Care to try again?”

Ramsey snorted, crossed his arms over his burly chest, and pretended to stare at a crack in a rock. And then he finally shrugged. “You couldn’t find her, little brother.”

Little brother?

Saxson frowned. “We were born five minutes apart, Ramsey. Come again.”

“It took you almost an hour to find your destiny,” Santos tried to explain.

Saxson furrowed his brow. “To find Kyla?”

Ramsey nodded emphatically, and Saxson finally got it—his brothers were wired for sound, still walking on a razor-fine edge, as a result of Saxson’s Blood Moon. A missing destiny was nothing to shrug off lightly, and he had given them both quite a scare.

He smiled wryly and shook his head. “Aw,” he teased, softening his voice, “you were worried about me, weren’t you?”

Santos shrugged, admitting guilt, and Ramsey nearly snarled, “We were just making sure you both made it back home safely.”

Saxson suppressed laughter and casually extended his arms. “Group hug?” he offered.

Santos chuckled in a light-hearted rejoinder, while Ramsey shot him a warning glance: “Hug me, and I’ll break both your arms.”

Saxson placed a firm hand on Ramsey’s shoulder. “Big brother, I’m fine.” Two pairs of identical hazel eyes met—locked in the moment—and Saxson repeated the refrain. “I’m fine.”

Ramsey nodded, at last taking a breath, and Saxson removed his hand.

“How are things going?” Santos finally asked.

Saxson raised one shoulder in a casual lift. “Great,” he said nonchalantly. “So far, so good.”

“Really?” Santos asked, sounding surprised.

“Yeah,” Saxson reiterated. “In fact”—he paused—“maybe so far, too good.” He glanced away. “I don’t know—this isn’t supposed to be that easy. I guess the jury is still out. I’ll have to let you know more later.”

“What’s wrong?” Ramsey asked bluntly.

Saxson shook his head. “That’s just it. Nothing is wrong, so far. In fact, she came back without compulsion.”

Santos flashed a playful smile. “Yeah, well, you are the ladies’ man.”

Saxson shrugged again. “Maybe.” He drew inward, thinking it over, and Ramsey caught his hesitation…

“What aren’t you saying?” the Master Warrior asked.

Saxson shook his head. “I honestly don’t know. She’s smart, she’s beautiful, and she’s very easy to get along with, and yet, there’s something…”

“Something what?” Ramsey prompted.

“I don’t know. Something…missing…on my end.”

His twin cocked his brows in question. “Like?”

Saxson felt miserably guilty. “Like, I thought I would be instantly attracted to the female the gods…prepared.” His voice dropped to a mere whisper—he definitely did not want Kyla to overhear their conversation—not that she could. “I expected more…electricity…on my part. I even kissed her earlier, and well, how should I put this? My interest mounted, for sure; but nature wasn’t rising—if you know what I mean. Not my typical response to a beautiful, sexy woman.”

Ramsey frowned. “Way too much information, Saxson.” An awkward silence lingered, then: “Look, if it’s any consolation, when I first found out that Tiffany was my destiny… When she took off on that huge damned horse, all I wanted to do was wring her pretty neck.” He snickered at the memory.

“Yeah, but you wanted her, right?” Saxson asked. “I mean, you wanted her, correct?”

Ramsey reached into his jacket pocket, retrieved a small silver case, and stuffed a toothpick between his lips. “These things take time, Saxson.”

Saxson nodded.

He was sure his twin was right.

And beyond that: Just what the hell was wrong with him?

Kyla Sparrow was less than fifty feet away, waiting inside his clifftop retreat with absolute trust and sincerity in her heart. She was open, responsive, and finally here. He must have been more on edge than his brothers—maybe that delay in finding her, that tentative hour, had actually taken a toll. He glanced up at the sky, regarded his own Blood Moon, and grew inwardly quiet.

After 701 years, the gods had finally smiled upon Saxson, and he wasn’t going to screw this up. “It’s late, warriors,” he said with a wink and a smile. “And my destiny is waiting. You need to take your asses home.”

* * *

Kyla Sparrow locked the bathroom door, turned on the exhaust fan, and ran the water to drown out the sound of her texting—who knew what a vampire could hear if he was really listening. As it stood, someone had come to the front door—at 3:30 in the morning?—and Saxson had stepped outside.

This might be her only opportunity…

Owen! What’s up? I’m in Dark Moon Vale. So far, everything’s going perfect. She tapped her foot on the natural-stone tile and waited, praying Owen would reply quickly.

Be careful, texting! Owen shot back, her screen lighting up with a dim yellow glow.

Of course, she replied. Any news from the Head Hunter? Any more specific orders? She started to type What happened with Kiera? and quickly hit the backspace button, erasing the previous line.

No way.

No how.

She wasn’t going to go there.

She was doing what she must, and she had to keep her focus on Saxson.

Yeah, Owen texted back. I spoke with XM. He approves of everything we’ve done so far, but he wants you to lie low for a while. Do NOT go after the kill, not with the vampire who took you. The HH has his own targets, a personal vendetta, I guess: an ancient named Keitaro; two warriors named Marquis and Nathaniel; a wizard named Nachari; and a healer they call Kagen. That’s all I know so far. The boss doesn’t think you can get to any of them, but you might be able to get to their kids—strike where it really hurts.

Kyla frowned.

Xavier Matista, the mysterious head of all the Midwest region—and all their various sub-militias—wanted her to try to infiltrate the house of Jadon on a much deeper level? To somehow take out one or more of the vampires’ sons? That would be a suicide mission at best. She shivered. He was planning to sacrifice her life, wasn’t he?

She started to text something back, when three words shot across her screen: What’s his name?

Huh? she fired back.

The male who took you—his name!

Saxson. She pressed send.

Olaru. She pressed send again.

Got it, Owen replied. I’ll run the name by Xavier. In the meantime, be careful! And erase this shit, Kyla! Zero room for error.

Yeah, she replied swiftly. Tell me about it. She typed TTYL and quickly followed up, erasing all the sent and received messages; then she powered down her phone.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Three knocks on the bathroom door.

“You okay?” Saxson’s deep, alluring voice reverberated through the panel.

“I’m fine.” Kyla gulped, stuffing the phone in her pocket.

Holy shit!

She was dancing with the devil.

Just one small slip, and she would surely burn in hell.

She splashed cold water over her face, took a long, slow, deep breath, and opened the bathroom door.