I woke at dusk curled in a ball in my usual corner with salt drying in itchy tracks on my cheeks. A horrible weight in my gut kept me from dry heaving, and I started regretting my policy of not talking about what had happened to me. Even one person could help me sort through what was real and what was imagined, what had been forgotten. So many years spent reliving the seconds that had cost me my freedom had both burned those moments into my mind’s eye and faded them after so many viewings. What I remembered, I didn’t trust, and what I had been told in Atramentous I believed even less.

Talking probably wasn’t the worst idea I’d ever had, but who did I wreck with the burden of those memories? The man who had offered me his unconditional support or the woman who would never refuse me if I asked her to prop me up? The man who had suffered his own horrors or the woman left behind to imagine them? Boaz or Amelie? And could I ever look either of them in the eyes again after?

I didn’t know, and until I did, they were both safe from me calling in any favors.

Determined to check at least one item off my to-do list before work, I hauled myself up the narrow stairs into the stuffy attic and rummaged through lifetimes’ worth of accumulation until I located the antique cage Keet once called home and its matching base. That segued into me dusting the chandeliers, and ended with me falling down in sweaty exhaustion onto my bed, thus dooming me to laundry detail.

Hours later, still dressed in cut-off shorts, a tank top with a hole exposing my navel and half my right side, I plucked at the itchy yellow dish gloves encasing my hands. Suds climbed up my elbows, because I failed at mixing the proper water-to-mopping-solution ratio, and I worried more than once I might be making a bigger mess than I was cleaning. Factor in my frizzy ponytail, the bangs plastered to my forehead and the allergies causing my eyes to redden and itch, and I had reached the mecca of sexiness that promises you’ll run into your smokin’-hot ex if you leave the house.

I didn’t have an ex. I guess that’s why I didn’t even have to leave the house to get run into.

The doorbell rang out in a clear, strong note, one of Woolly’s all-clear chimes. Secure in the knowledge whoever awaited me wasn’t the kidnappy vampire from last night, I tossed my sponge in the bucket to go investigate. Palms braced on the door, I stuck my eye to the peephole and sucked in a sharp breath. The man standing on my porch, hands folded in front of him, had me fighting back a panic attack, because he wasn’t a man at all really.

“Are you insane?” I glared up at the foyer chandelier. “You let him on the porch?”

The light brightened then dimmed, the Woolly equivalent of a shrug.

After ripping off the gloves, I tossed them near the other supplies then smoothed a sweaty hand over my hair before opening the door. “Mr. Volkov.”

An unassuming male dressed in a dark suit stood behind him and to his left. He closed the large, black umbrella he must have used to escort Volkov onto my porch then made himself scarce. I hadn’t even noticed it was raining again, but that explained why my hair was crackling like I’d stuck my finger in a light socket. This was Georgia humidity at its finest.

Volkov stared at the crown of my frizzy head, sweeping his gaze down my frayed outfit. He lingered over my legs for what felt like hours, a mathematician going for the mental recitation of pi. “Ms. Woolworth.”

Fiddlesticks.

“Eyes are up here, bud.” Walking between five and fifteen miles five nights a week kept my calves and thighs toned, but not many people got the chance to admire them thanks to my voluminous skirts. Uneasy with his gaze on my bare skin, I snapped my fingers to snag his attention. “How did you find me?”

“I followed your scent,” he said, as if tracking me like a bloodhound was a totally reasonable answer.

“Oookay.” Shifting to my left, I blocked the entrance to the house. “And you’re here why?”

“What are your plans for lunch?” His attention lingered on my throat.

Lunch for necros tended to occur around midnight with dinner being served around six in the morning. Breakfast, for those who indulged, was usually a sunset affair. Though it was hours too early for lunch, I had abstained from breakfast due to my upset stomach, so brunch was sounding good right about now.

“I’ll probably make a sandwich.” I had one scoop of peanut butter in the jar, two squirts of jelly in a bottle, one square of processed cheese, and a few slices of bread. I had done a little of my own math and decided one PB&J and one grilled cheese would hit the spot until I went shopping.

Volkov stood there, an air of expectation suspending a single moment into many.

“Would you like to join me?” To my knowledge, no vampire had stepped foot inside Woolworth House during my stay with Maud. I wondered if today would prove the exception. What about this one had piqued Woolly’s curiosity? Especially considering her violent reaction to the one from last night.

His regal nod indicated a certain expectation I had to nip in the bud. And soon. He attempted to cross the threshold with his confident strides, but a burst of ward magic from Woolly suspended him in the doorway while she conducted a thorough evaluation. I didn’t rush her decision. I was interested in her assessment as well. He took a fumbled half-step back—the house trying to gently shove him out? But he pressed forward with a determined scowl, swinging his narrowed gaze toward me, and shut the door behind him as if that might prevent his premature eviction.

“Don’t look at me. She’s the boss.” I gestured to the house around us. “I just live here.”

“The rumors are true then?” He examined the entryway as though expecting a ghost to walk through the walls and boop him on the nose for being a bad vampire. “The house is haunted?”

“Yep.” That was mostly the truth. Close enough for my conscience anyway.

“Do you know the identity of your ghost?” Genuine curiosity guided his perusal. “Is there more than one?”

“Maud isn’t here if that’s what you’re asking.” Had he known who I was last night? All signs pointed to yes. That would explain his interest in me. “Still want that sandwich?”

“Of course.”

Pivoting on my heel, I led him toward the kitchen. On my way past the bucket, I stepped in a patch of fizzing suds, and my foot shot out from under me. I flung out my arms and braced for an impact that never came.

“I have you.” Warm breath fanned my throat as his arms cinched around my middle. “You should be more careful.”

“I was…” I breathed in the scent of his skin and lost my train of thought as that same magnetism from last night flipped switches in my brain. The tension thrumming in me uncoiled until I melted against him. Giddiness frothed in my mouth, and I had to swallow giggles. “Cleaning. The floor. It was dirty.”

“I see.” He swiped a dollop of bubbles off my thigh, rubbing the film between his fingers while I prayed to every god I had ever read about that I’d shaved the night before…or even the previous week. Work was my one social outlet, and hoop skirts hid a multitude of sins. “The kitchen is this way?”

“Hmm?” I would have said most anything to keep him talking. His accent was kind of sexy.

“You did not hit your head.” His accent thickened as though he had plucked the thought right out of my mind. “I caught you.”

“The kitchen is this way.” There. I sounded perfectly normal. “Hey, whoa.” I flailed in his grip as he lifted me against his chest and started walking. “You can put me down now.”

“And risk you slipping again?” He strode through the wetness and bubbles without sliding an inch. His shoes were quality leather, expensive, and murky suds were bursting on them.

Once in the kitchen, I put up a token struggle that caused the corners of his eyes to crinkle. I wasn’t going anywhere until he released me, and we both knew it. “Put me down,” I said again, hating the breathless catch to my voice. “Please.”

“As you wish.” He set me on my feet and began a slow examination of the kitchen. “You have a lovely home.”

“Thanks.” My dreamy tone evaporated once he crossed the room. As my head cleared, blood rushed into my cheeks over the damsel routine I’d pulled. His lips curved at the sight, and my stomach quivered. Touch must be the key to his lure. Good to know. “How do you feel about grilled cheese?”

“I haven’t had grilled cheese since I was a boy.” He studied the ingredients as I placed them on the counter as though each were a foreign object. The processed cheese in particular seemed to fascinate him.

“Then consider me your walk down memory lane.” I patted the island, and he took the hint and sat on one of the barstools. “Can I get you something to drink?”

Almost on reflex, he flicked a glance at my throat, and I swallowed. Audibly. But he just chuckled.

“I do not take what is not freely given.” He stacked his forearms on the marble countertop. “Do not fear me.”

“Can I get back to you on that?” I started preheating my pan. “You’re the first Last Seed I’ve met.”

Volkov canted his head to one side. “How can you tell?”

“Twice now you’ve made my brain melt at a touch. Made vamps can’t hook me with their lures.”

A fact he ought to know, unless it was me he was testing. Yeah. That seemed more likely.

While he mulled over his response, I poured him a glass of lemonade. Our fingers brushed when I passed it to him, and a flash of heat swept through my limbs too fast for me to do more than gasp before he ensnared me. Sweat beaded on my forehead and rolled stinging tracks into my eyes. The cord powering my brain disconnected with a pop, and I twirled down the path to La-La land.

I was hot. Burning up. Ready to peel off my clothes and dance in the sprinklers. Summer in the south was killer. I really ought to crank up the AC or crack a window or stick a palm frond in his hand.

A palm frond? the distant voice of reason echoed. Do you hear yourself? It’s not even summer.

“Apologies.” As he withdrew, so did the urge to strip naked and jiggle on the front lawn for his entertainment. “I had to be certain you understood how fast a touch from one such as me can ruin you.”

“Where I come from, it’s considered bad manners to brainwash your host.” I scrambled backward until my butt hit the fridge, wondering what the heck Woolly had gotten me into with him. “Explain yourself, or get out. I’m good with either.”

“I have a gift for you.” He produced a powder-blue jewelry box from his suit jacket and slid it across the counter to me so I wouldn’t have to risk an accidental touch. “Open it, please.”

“Woolly?” I asked for her opinion. “This was your bright idea.”

The lights flared in response, and the fridge hummed soothingly behind me.

Trusting she wouldn’t steer me wrong, I palmed the box and lifted the lid. “You shouldn’t have.” A ruby-red bangle rested on a bed of white velvet. I tilted it to inspect the intricate metal clasp, and an air bubble disrupted the solid color of what I realized was a clear tube filled with tinted fluid. “Is that…blood?”

“Yes.” The tips of his fangs showed as he spoke. “Mine to be precise.”

“You really shouldn’t have,” I repeated.

“Try it on,” he urged.

“I can’t possible accept this—” highly disturbing and inappropriate bangle “—but I appreciate the sentiment. I know what the gift of blood means to your people. This is too generous.”

“This is not an act of sentimentality.” He gestured toward the box again. “Please, try it on. There’s something I wish to show you.”

The lights overhead burned brighter in encouragement.

Here goes nothing.

I pinched the bangle between my fingers and examined its curve. Glass doesn’t bend without breaking, so what I’d first assumed was a hinged clasp must be merely decorative. At Volkov’s urging, I slid the bangle over my hand and yelped as it pinched my wrist. No, not pinched. Pierced.

“I’m trying very hard not to stake first and ask questions later.” Too bad I had returned the ash stake to Jolene. I would have to knife him and run if things got ugly. The sharp pain receded, and the bangle slid higher on my arm. “What just happened?”

“Take my hand.” He splayed his fingers, waiting. “What’s an ounce more faith?”

The door to the fridge opened, nudging me forward.

Our palms slid against each other and… The urge to naked polka never emerged. His skin was warm, smooth. His fingers meshed with mine, his thundercloud eyes intent on me. A line appeared between his brows as though he were deep in thought, but that was the only outward sign of his concentration.

“This gives me immunity to your kind.” I dropped his hand and twirled it aside to check the puncture marks on my wrist. Gone. Healed in a blink. “Why would you surrender the greatest weapon in your arsenal?”

The real question was why did he think I was deserving of his gift? I was no one. Nothing. The ashes of a once-bright future. Where was the benefit for him?

“I’m offering you an alliance with Clan Volkov.”

I shook my head to clear the ringing in my ears. “Why would you possibly want an alliance with me?”

Stripped of my title as the Woolworth heir, I had no position, no money, and no worth as a bargaining chip in any alliance. Factor in the years spent with magical restraints grounding my powers in Atramentous, and I was little more than human to boot.

“Trust me.” His mouth crooked to one side. “Soon you’ll be drowning in such offers. I mean for mine to be the first and the most generous.”

“I don’t understand.”

Genuine pity darkened his eyes. “I’m not at liberty to explain.”

“I can’t accept an offer without knowing the consequences.” I started to remove his gift, but his hand stilled me. “I can’t accept this either.”

“I’m not asking for an answer now, only that you consider me.” He tapped the bangle. “This is all the protection I can offer until you decide. Please, wear it. It will keep you safe.”

From him went unsaid. The odds of another Last Seed wanting a piece of me were…incalculable.

“I can’t make any promises.” I would need a second opinion before I removed the darn bangle, let alone promoted it to daily accessory status. Once bitten, twice shy and all that. “But I will consider your request.”

“That’s all I can ask.” His quick smile was nice, tinged with triumph I didn’t understand, but not bone-meltingly irresistible. “Except… Might I still trouble you for that sandwich?”

“That I can do.” I set about preparing our meal, falling into the comfortable routine while my mind whirred. This gift must have been the reason Woolly allowed him entrance in the first place. Did that mean she wanted me to accept his alliance or take the gift and run? Times like these, I really wish she had writing skills above kindergartener level. “Was this the only reason you came to town?”

“No, I have other business matters to attend while I’m here.” He traced a vein in the granite countertop with his finger, and it wasn’t a stretch to imagine that same touch on my throat. “Perhaps I could engage your services for the night.”

I burned my palm on the pan I was heating. “Come again?”

“You are a guide, yes?” He quirked an eyebrow. “I am not familiar with the area. I would appreciate someone with your qualifications to show me around town.”

“You’re a long way from home, huh?” At his puzzled expression, I elaborated. “Your accent.”

“Ah. Yes.” A grin told me he was well aware of how it affected the ladies. “I was born in Nizhny.” He corrected himself, “Nizhny Novgorod, Russia.”

I sliced a tablespoon of butter and let it hit the pan with a sizzle. “How did you end up all the way in Savannah, Georgia?”

“My mother passed away recently.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” His father was a made vampire, his mother human, for him to be an LS. Meaning that Volkov’s twenty-something appearance might be an accurate indication of his true age.

“We weren’t close.” He shifted in his seat to study the photos on the wall—all pictures of me and Maud, some including a somber Linus, and our escapades. “Not like it appears you were with your family.”

Family was a complicated subject for me, and not one I was eager to discuss. “Was Volkov House part of your inheritance?”

“Yes.” He returned his attention to me. “I’d heard stories of my mad relative and seen pictures of his home. When it passed into my hands, I was tempted to donate it to the town to be used for recreational purposes.”

“What changed your mind?” I finished browning the grilled cheese to perfection, plated it, sliced it horizontally and shoved the dish toward Volkov.

“A…situation arose. My mother was a woman of many secrets, and some were revealed after her death. Much like the house, I inherited other responsibilities as well.” A grim line flattened his lips. “I hoped that coming here might give me insight into what my obligations truly are.”

A small part of me wondered if that situation was me.

“I get that.” I pulled my bread from the toaster and slathered on the PB&J then cut off the crust. “Some responsibilities our loved ones leave behind are too large for us to shoulder alone.”

Surprise lit his features. “Just so.”

“About tonight—” If I had a lick of sense, I would tell him to buzz off and find another flower “—I have two late-late tours scheduled. I can’t break those engagements.”

Plus, I had to get Keet back in his cage and out of my bathroom, where I’d stashed him before bed. At least now he could hang in the living room near the windows overlooking the garden instead of being stuffed up in my room all the time.

“Are you available tomorrow?”

The way he said available made me think he meant something different than what rested on the surface. “Sundays aren’t usually as hectic, but I’m covering two tours for a friend.”

His chin dipped, as if he had expected the brushoff he apparently thought I had given him.

“What about Monday?” That gave me a small window to find answers about the bangle and arm myself with questions to ask about this proposed alliance of his. “We can do an early lunch in town.”

A smile overtook his face that caused my pulse to leap, bangle or no bangle. “Are you asking me out?”

I choked on my sandwich and stole his lemonade to wash it down. Pretty sure my response still came out as a gurgle.

“Your blush intoxicates, solnishko.” He lifted half his sandwich, bit into it, and let his eyes roll closed. A pleased rumble issued from his chest. “I want to repay your hospitality. We will meet Monday, and I will take you out for lunch.” He cut his eyes my way. “As you requested.”

“Okay.” I didn’t dare risk a longer response until I had drained his glass to the bottom. Thankfully, eternal life came with one heck of a boost to the old immune system, and I couldn’t catch anything from sharing. “I’ll pencil you in.”

“I make you nervous,” he observed.

Around him, I felt like a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. “You’re a stranger.” A vampire. “In my home.” Even if said home had invited him in.

“After Monday, we will have spoken three times. We will be strangers no longer. We will be…” his lips pursed, “…friends.”

A laugh welled up in me. “Sure.”

Once I showed him the sights and he realized I had zero powers or influence, he would lose interest and our friendship would crash and burn alongside his offer of alliance. I just hoped he let me keep the bangle as a consolation prize. Having experienced the helplessness of confinement behind iron bars, the misery of having my will suppressed, the horror of doubting my own sanity, I could appreciate an accessory that protected me from a fraction of the population at least. Volkov, whether he knew it or not, had given me a gift potent with symbolism as well as being practical for our future dealings.

“I hear your doubt.” He finished his sandwich with equal rapture. “I will prove to you I am a constant man.”

I schooled my features into a bland mask. Seeing him as a man was not part of the plan. Even his use of the word rang hollow. Made vampires often referred to themselves as men or women, a habit some of them never broke, but born vampires had been taught the trick as camouflage to make them harder to distinguish from their brethren.

Volkov was a vampire, and vampires—born or made—meant trouble for me. No matter how sincere those thunderous eyes blazed, I couldn’t afford to let biology lead me around by the nose.

The doorbell chose that moment to ring, a pealing sound as joyful as laughter, and I had a good idea who to expect. So it was no surprise, three minutes later, to find myself squaring off with Boaz over the threshold.

“I wasn’t sure you’d be awake yet.”

“I’m not a total laze about.”

“No, but you worked late.” He inhaled, and the groan he released made my stomach tighten. “Is that a grilled cheese sandwich with extra butter I smell?”

“Yes, but I’m out of cheese. And bread.” And I really didn’t want him to discover I was harboring a vampire.

“Don’t hide from me.”

“Hello? I answered the door. I’m standing here, talking to you.” My guest? Yes, well, okay. Him, I was hiding. “I haven’t been grocery shopping because of those late nights you mentioned.”

“Is there a problem?” Volkov purred over my shoulder.

I closed my eyes on a groan then squinted up at Boaz. “This is not what it looks like.”

“It looks like you’re cavorting with a vampire.” His gaze sharpened. “Are you out of cheese? Or is it O positive you’re low on?”

“Is this your boyfriend?” Volkov asked conversationally.

“No. He’s my—” I stalled out. “Neighbor?”

“Friend,” Boaz corrected through a flash of teeth. “Her very close friend.”

“Danill Volkov, meet Boaz Pritchard.” I gestured between them. “Boaz is my best friend’s big brother. His parents live next door.”

“You still live at home?” Volkov stood so close his heat caressed my spine. “I suppose in this economy…”

“I’m on leave.” Each word sliced through the air. “I haven’t been home in thirteen months, so yes. I will be staying with my family.” His gaze shifted to me. “Besides, my old room has the benefit of giving me a view of Grier’s bedroom window each morning. What more can a man ask for?”

“Boaz, did you need something?” I restrained the urge to throttle him. “Or are you only here to validate my decision to invest in blackout curtains?”

“I can’t find the key to Jolene.” He indicated a toolbox and a bulging plastic bag he’d left on the top step. “Figured the old girl was due for a tune-up.”

“Oh.” I deflated. “Guess I should have seen this coming.” I palmed the keychain off the console table where I’d dropped it last night. “Here you go.”

“Tuck in your bottom lip.” He tapped my chin up with his fingertip. “Amelie told me you’ve been using her to get to work. I’m not here to steal your transportation.”

Volkov uttered a growl that dared Boaz to try, but we both ignored him.

“She’s yours. You can take her any time you want.” Generous of me to give him back his own bike. “I’ll figure something out. Really, it’s okay.”

He shook his head at my stubbornness. “Do you have a dollar?”

“Yeah.” I pulled a wrinkled bill from my pocket and offered it to him. “What do I owe you for the oil and the filter I see in that bag? A dollar won’t cover those.”

“Congratulations. You just bought yourself a bike.” He turned on his heel. “I’ll draw up the papers. You can sign them later.”

“You can’t sell me Jolene.” I chased him across the porch. “You love that bike.”

“I bought a new one this morning.”

My jaw dropped. “Why would you—?”

“Don’t pester me, Squirt, or I might change my mind.” He raised his hand as he set off toward the garage. “Later.”

“Later,” I murmured.

“I should go.”

A flush warmed my cheeks. I’d forgotten Volkov was still here. “Sorry about that.”

“You have nothing to apologize for, and certainly not to me.” He took my hand and brushed his lips across my knuckles. “I look forward to seeing you again soon. I will call to make arrangements.”

“You have my number.” It came out as an accusation. “Why does that not surprise me?”

The sharp edge of his grin made zero apologies for him getting what he wanted.

“Thanks for the gift.” I trailed him down the steps onto the lawn where his driver waited. “I’ll think on what you said.” And the implications of all he hadn’t said.

“Good.” He inclined his head. “Good night, Grier.”

“Night, Mr. Volkov.”

“Danill,” he corrected. “We’re friends, remember?”

“Danill,” I agreed, willing to play nice until I got my answers. “Enjoy the rest of your night.”

The bangle caught the light as I jogged back up on the porch, and I whirled it around my wrist. I had to admit it was as pretty as it was creepy. Since I had yet to go out tonight, I curled my toes against the cool planks, shut my eyes and brushed my thoughts against the wards encircling Woolworth House.

A percussive blast radiated through my skull as a warning chimed in my head. A new quadrant had been weakened within feet of the last assault. Almost as though someone were systematically checking Woolly’s defenses.

That…was not good.

Hard to know who presented the more tempting target. Me or Woolly. Neither of us were inviolable.

Woolly should have reached out to me when she was in danger, not let it pass. Unless the reason she no longer mentally pinged me when the wards got buzzed was because I was too weak to hear her sound the alarm. That weakness might also explain why she’d rolled out the red carpet for our fangy guest.

After spending time with Volkov, I had no doubt he’d orchestrated our first meeting to occur at a time when I was professionally obligated not to turn tail and run. But he’d also chosen an environment where I would be surrounded by witnesses despite the late hour, humans, who he couldn’t reveal himself to on that scale without dire consequences, Last Seed or not, so there was that. He had wanted me comfortable and relaxed, not intimidated.

That left me with the second vampire as a possible suspect, the one with a master eager to make my acquaintance. Or, even worse, another necromancer.

Rivals might have been attempting to crack Woolly like the safe she was all along. Her treasure trove of necromantic knowledge and artifacts were priceless to the Society. Desperation could be making them reckless now that I was home to defend her. Of course my being home might also be the issue.

Maud had been ruthless in her pursuit of knowledge, and she had earned her fair share of enemies. Now I had to wonder if I might have inherited them along with everything else.