“Well? Are you going to let us in, or what? We’re getting soaked out here.”

That comment drew Tomasso out of his shock, but he didn’t respond to Justin Bricker, who had asked the question. He didn’t even step back to allow the foursome on the doorstep inside. Instead, he stepped out into the wind and rain and threw his arms around his brother with relief, saying loudly, “Dante. You are safe.”

“Yeah.” Dante returned the hug, his own voice a near shout to be heard over the storm. “I was worried about you, brother.”

“I was worried about you too,” Tomasso assured him as they broke off the hug and stepped back to look each other over. Dante looked exactly as he had the last time Tomasso had seen him. Except for the fact that he was dressed, of course. The last time he’d seen his brother, Dante had been as bare-assed as Tomasso had been on the cargo plane.

“Why were you worried about me?” Dante asked with surprise. “You knew I had escaped. It was you who got left behind, stuck in that cage.”

“You ran from there naked with no money and no phone,” Tomasso pointed out. “I was not sure how far you would get like that. I feared they had recaptured you and transported us separately.”

“No.” Dante smiled. “Fortunately, I ran into the arms of an angel who helped save me.” His smile turning wry, he added, “Actually, I ran into her RV, but she is an angel and she did help save me. Tomasso, this is my life mate—” His voice broke off as he turned to glance beside him and saw only empty space. “Where did she—Oh! There she is. Come.”

Catching Tomasso’s arm, Dante pulled him into the house and toward the threesome now standing in the entry.

Tomasso pulled the door closed behind them, shutting out the storm, then turned to survey the trio who had left them outside and moved in out of the inclement weather without them, Lucian Argeneau, Justin Bricker and a petite little blonde with a wide smile.

“This is my life mate Mary, fratello,” Dante said proudly, using the Italian term for brother. Slipping his arm around the woman, he added, “Mary, this is my brother, Tomasso.”

“One look was all it took to know that,” Mary said with a laugh. Slipping from under Dante’s arm, she stepped forward to hug Tomasso in greeting as she pointed out, “You two are identical.”

“Sì, but I am the better-looking brother,” Dante assured her, pulling Mary away from Tomasso and tucking her back under his arm again.

Tomasso’s eyebrows rose slightly at this sign of jealousy from his twin. Dante had never had a jealous bone in his body before now. They’d even shared women in their younger years. Life mates were a different matter, however. And, Tomasso thought suddenly, Dante didn’t yet know about his Abigail so might be worried that as twins, Mary might be a possible life mate to him too.

Tomasso didn’t try reading her to find out. For one thing, as pretty as Mary was, he wasn’t the least attracted to her. The other reason Tomasso didn’t read her was because he didn’t want images of his naked brother dancing through his head. And judging by the way Mary was looking at Dante right now that was what he’d find there.

“You are quite right. That is exactly what is dancing through Mary’s head right now,” Lucian said, obviously reading Tomasso’s thoughts. “And since Dante and Mary are newly mated, you should be picking up on that whether you want to or not, unless—” He paused and narrowed his gaze on Tomasso, and then his eyes widened the slightest bit and the hint of a smile curved the corner of his mouth as he murmured, “I believe you have something to tell your brother?”

Tomasso noted the way Dante stiffened and knew at once that he’d misconstrued Lucian’s words. He thought Tomasso hadn’t been able to read Mary, not that he’d refused to try. Smiling wryly, Tomasso opened his mouth to explain, but just as quickly snapped it closed again and ran for the master bedroom as Abigail began to shriek.

When he burst into the bedroom, Tomasso found Abigail with her eyes squeezed tightly closed, her body stiff and arched on the bed, and vibrating like a tuning fork as she screamed her head off.

“Cara!” he shouted, rushing to the bed to pull her into his arms. It was like hugging a board. Her body seemed locked in the position and her screaming didn’t even falter when he gathered her against his chest. Glancing around wildly, he saw with relief that the others had followed. Focusing on Lucian he barked, “What is happening?”

The man moved up next to him to peer at Abigail, and then reached down to lift one eyelid.

“You turned her?” Lucian asked in a near roar to be heard over her screaming.

Tomasso met his gaze and nodded. Much to his relief Abigail went silent then. She was still stiff and vibrating, but at least she was no longer emitting that terrible shriek. Swallowing, he looked over her pale face, unsure what was happening. He would think this was just part of the turn except that it could not possibly happen this quickly. Could it? He wasn’t sure. He’d not witnessed a lot of turns, but he would have thought it would take at least a little bit of time to cause a reaction like this.

“How long ago?” Lucian asked, releasing her eyelid and straightening.

“I had just finished when you knocked,” Tomasso muttered, pressing her tighter to his chest.

“Wait.” Dante moved up beside them. “You turned her? When you had no blood here to—”

“I had to,” he growled. “She was dying.”

“Dying?” Mary asked with concern. “What—?”

“Dengue hemorrhagic fever,” Tomasso said wearily before she could finish the question.

“Dengue?” Mary asked with surprise. “But that’s not usually fatal.”

“She was dehydrated and losing blood. She needed fluids and transfusions but the road was washed out and—” Pausing suddenly, he glanced to the others with confusion. “How did you get through?”

“A borrowed military jeep and Justin’s driving,” Lucian said dryly, and then turned to the younger man. “Get the cooler of blood out of the jeep.”

As soon as Justin left, Lucian turned to Tomasso. “I am guessing you did not think to gather chains or rope before turning her?”

Tomasso shook his head. He hadn’t really thought this through, he supposed. It was very fortunate that the others had shown up. He didn’t know what he would have done. Tied her down with sheets and led a parade of maids and resort clientele through the room for her to feed on maybe?

“Jesus,” Lucian muttered and Tomasso was quite sure the man had read that thought from his mind.

“Dante, you and Mary go find some rope or chain or something to tie her down,” Lucian ordered. “And rent rooms for us.”

“No need. This villa has four rooms,” Tomasso said quickly, glad he at least had something useful to offer. Dante nodded and offered him a reassuring smile as he ushered Mary out of the room.

“I thought you would head to Caracas once Mortimer passed on my information,” Tomasso commented once he and Lucian were alone. Tomasso had made two calls after carrying Abigail off the fishermen’s boat at this resort. He’d made the calls from the registration desk. The first had been to his brother’s cell phone, but it had gone directly to voice mail. He’d hung up and made his second call then, to Mortimer, the head of the Rogue Hunters. That too had gone to voice mail. Deciding he would try again after getting Abigail settled, Tomasso had turned his attention to getting a room here at the resort. This villa, apparently kept for the exclusive use of the owners when they were here, had been all that was available. Tomasso had used mind control to convince the registration manager to give him the villa, as well as to bypass the problems caused by his lack of identification or credit cards. He’d also made sure that the villa wasn’t listed as occupied on the registration. Basically, they didn’t exist.

Tomasso frowned as it suddenly occurred to him to wonder if that was why his messages had never reached the doctor. Why send one to an unoccupied villa? With the new system the doctor had mentioned they’d probably thought it a glitch.

Shaking his head, he glanced to Lucian, wondering how they had got here so quickly. With Abigail so sick, Tomasso had quite forgotten about making those calls again until just hours ago. They shouldn’t have got here this fast.

“We were on a plane on the way to Venezuela when Mortimer called us with the news that you had escaped and were safe here in Punta Cana,” Lucian announced. “I had the plane stop here instead. We were going to collect you and take you on to Venezuela with us.”

Tomasso raised his eyebrows in surprise. “You already knew about Venezuela?”

Lucian nodded. “Decker and Nicholas found the connection.”

Tomasso nodded briefly, recognizing the names of two of Lucian’s nephews who also happened to be Rogue Hunters.

“They did some snooping around in San Antonio after Dante escaped your kidnappers. They found a warehouse the kidnappers were using and paperwork for shipments to Caracas. Mary then recalled the men who held her mentioning a Doctor Dressler. But we did not know about the island,” he added.

“Abigail heard one of the men mention the island,” Tomasso admitted, peering down at her face. “She rescued me. Took out the IV they had in my arm and—”

“I have already read all of that from your memories, Tomasso,” Lucian said, ending any need for him to regale him with what had been happening. “I also read that Abigail has no idea what you are and what you have turned her into, or even that you have. You turned her without gaining permission first.”

The accusation was made softly, but Tomasso stiffened defensively anyway. “It was an emergency. She was dying.”

Lucian nodded. “And that is the only reason you will not be hauled up in front of the council for judgment.”

Before Tomasso could point out that since he lived in Italy and had turned Abigail in Punta Cana none of this really fell under the purview of the North American council that Lucian was the head of, Justin came hurrying in, carrying a huge cooler.

“Got the blood,” the man announced unnecessarily, setting it down and opening the lid. “I saw Mary and Dante on their way back here too. They must have found some chain or rope.”

Justin retrieved several bags of blood from the cooler, tossed them on the bed, slammed the lid closed then straightened and raised an eyebrow at Lucian. “Can I go call Holly now? She’ll be worried.”

“Yes, fine,” Lucian snapped impatiently. “If you must.”

“I must,” Justin assured him, and then headed for the door, adding, “And if I were you I’d call Leigh and let her know we landed safely or the next ringtone she puts on your phone could be ‘Fuck it, I don’t want you back’ by Eamon.”

Lucian scowled after Bricker, shifted his feet, then sighed and retrieved his phone from his own pocket. Heading for the door, he muttered, “I need to make a call.”

“Say hi to Leigh for me,” Tomasso said with an amusement that only grew when Lucian muttered what he was sure was a curse and slammed the door on the way out. Smiling, Tomasso turned his eyes down to Abigail and gently brushed her hair back from her face. “You will like Leigh. She is small and kind and seems so sweet, but she has steel in her spine and an evil streak. Which is a good thing,” he assured her. “She needed it to tame the likes of Lucian Argeneau.”

“I can hear you!” Lucian barked through the door.

Tomasso chuckled softly, but his amusement died when Abigail suddenly began to scream again.

Abigail regained consciousness slowly, first becoming aware of birdsong and the scent of flowers on a breeze. She then felt soft sheets under her fingers and knew she was in a bed, not the beach. When she finally opened her eyes, she did so cautiously, positive she would be assaulted by terrible pain again as she had been every other time she’d woken up lately. But much to her relief there was no pain waiting to drop on her like a hammer. No fever either. Though she did still have dry mouth, she noted with a frown.

“Tomasso is going to be so annoyed with me.”

Abigail stiffened at that soft feminine voice and turned her head toward it, eyes searching. She blinked in surprise when she spotted the lovely blonde sitting in a chair by the bed.

Sitting forward, the blonde smiled at her and said, “Hi, Abigail. I’m Mary. And I’m afraid I’m the one who talked Tomasso into leaving your bedside to get some rest. I assured him that you would be out for hours and that I would wake him if you showed signs of stirring. But I didn’t notice any signs, you just suddenly opened your eyes, and now he’ll be upset that after sitting at your bedside throughout your entire turn, he missed being here when you woke up.”

Abigail smiled crookedly, mostly because it was hard not to return this woman’s smile, and then frowned as something that she’d said struck a chord in her. “My turn?”

She’d meant to speak the words; however, they came out a whisper. Mary heard them though and sat back in her seat, worry briefly flashing across her face. “I’m sorry, of course, you don’t know.”

“Know what?” Abigail asked with confusion. This time her voice was a little louder, but it was also broken and raspy, and her throat was sore, as if she’d been screaming a lot or something.

“Here.” Mary was suddenly on her feet, collecting a glass of what appeared to be water from the bedside table and helping her to sit up to drink it.

Concerned about a repeat of the last time she’d done this, Abigail hesitated, but then sighed and took a sip. Her stomach didn’t hurt right now. Nothing did, so perhaps it was safe. At least she was hoping so. Still, she only took one sip before gesturing that it was enough and leaning back against the pillows. She didn’t swallow right away, but swished the water around inside her mouth before letting it slide down her throat.

“Better?” Mary asked, settling on the side of the bed, still holding the water.

Abigail nodded, but then asked, “What did you mean when you said that he sat by me through the entire turn?”

“Tomasso didn’t leave your side once,” Mary said quietly. “He was very concerned about you. It’s pretty obvious he’s crazy about you.”

Abigail felt her heart give a little flutter at those words. A man like Tomasso crazy about her? The thought was a bit heady, or would have been if she hadn’t been distracted by the word turn that kept playing through her head. Shifting restlessly, she repeated, “Turn?”

Mary hesitated, then sighed and set the water on the bedside table. Turning back to her then, she asked, “How much do you know?”

“About what?” Abigail asked at once.

“About Tomasso and what he is?” Mary asked gently.

Abigail stared at her, finding those words ominous. What he is? That suggested he wasn’t just a man as she’d kind of been hoping, and that, put together with the word turn, was bringing back her earlier worries that he was a vampire, which was ridiculous, of course. There was no such thing as vampires, so she kept those mad thoughts to herself and merely asked, “What is he?”

Mary’s eyes narrowed and then she suddenly stood. “I think I should get Tomasso.”

“No. Wait.” Abigail caught her hand before she could move away and was surprised to find that she was stronger than she’d been the last couple of times she’d woken.

Mary paused, but said gently, “He should probably be the one to explain things to you.”

Abigail made a face. “Communication doesn’t seem to be his strong suit. Tomasso is more a grunter than a talker.”

“Most men are,” Mary said with amusement.

Abigail smiled faintly, but pled softly, “Please. Tell me.”

Mary hesitated, and then her eyes narrowed on her expression and she frowned. “You’re afraid.”

Abigail released her hand and looked away.

“Oh, Abigail, you have nothing to fear, I promise you,” Mary said earnestly, catching her hand before she could move it away. Squeezing gently, she said, “I’m new to all of this myself, but I already know that life mates are everything to these men.”

Abigail glanced back to her with a start. “Tomasso said something about my being his life mate.”

“Yes. You are,” Mary assured her. “And as such, you are more important to him than you can imagine.”

While Abigail tried to wrap her mind around that, Mary patted her hand and set it back on the bed. “I’m going to go get him. I really think he needs to explain all of this. Please let him,” she added solemnly. “Don’t allow your fears to keep you from hearing what you need to know. Once he’s explained it all, then you can make your decision. But let him explain everything first. Okay?” she asked at the end.

Abigail met her gaze and then nodded slowly.

“Good. If you do that, I promise it will all work out,” Mary assured her and slipped from the room.

Abigail blew her breath out between her lips and tried to relax back in the bed as she waited for Tomasso to arrive, but that seemed to be an impossibility. He was about to come in here and explain “what he was” to her, and as ridiculous as it was, she was beginning to suspect he was going to tell her he was a vampire. It was those fangs she’d spotted in the bathroom when he made love to her. That with the bite marks on her neck. Those two things were combining in her mind to convince her of what he was and that somehow vampires did exist and he was one.

Oddly enough, the thought didn’t terrify her now as it had the first time she’d had it. Abigail took a moment to consider why that was and the answer was simple. The man had taken care of her when she was sick. He’d nursed her as attentively as she’d nursed her own mother. From the few recollections she had, he’d been gentle, kind, sweet, and just amazing really. How could she fear him when he’d done that? Even if he was a vampire?

So, maybe vampires did exist and he was one, but a good vampire. If there was such a thing, she thought wryly. They were supposed to be soulless, after all. Still, why couldn’t there be good vampires, soul or no soul? Having a soul didn’t guarantee against someone being evil, so why did not having one mean they couldn’t be good? Maybe they were like pit bulls. That dog breed all got a bad rap, but she’d had a friend growing up who’d had a pit bull named Otis who had been an absolute doll. Otis had been gentle, obedient, and incredibly patient with Abigail and all the other kids in the neighborhood. He had stood patiently, suffering them to dress him up in princess dresses and whatnot, had chased stray balls when they were playing baseball, and had let the littler kids hang off his ears and hold onto his nose to get up without ever growling or otherwise complaining even though it must have hurt at times.

So, maybe Tomasso was a vampire, but a good one, like Otis was a pit bull, but a good one.

Abigail shifted in bed and glanced toward the sliding glass doors. They were open, she noted, letting a warm breeze and lots of sunlight in. It was nice, she thought, but in the next second she began to worry about Tomasso. If he was a vampire, then sunlight surely wasn’t good for him.

Sitting up in bed, Abigail slid her feet to the floor. She paused then, the sheet still wrapped around her. She stopped partially out of surprise because the room didn’t spin and she wasn’t feeling ridiculously weak or anything. But she also paused because she was afraid the pain would return any moment now that she was moving around. When that didn’t happen, she tried standing up and was able to do it without a problem. The dengue had definitely passed then, she decided with relief. The only thing she seemed still to be suffering with was thirst. She was terribly thirsty, which was probably her own fault since she’d only taken a sip of the water Mary had offered her.

Glancing to the bedside table, Abigail picked up the glass to take a drink. She paused after the first swallow to see if it would stay down. When her stomach didn’t rebel or otherwise protest the presence of the water, she took another drink and then another, and then downed the rest of the glass.

Water had never tasted so good. Truly, it was lovely. But it wasn’t enough. She was still thirsty. Unfortunately, this time there was just the glass and no pitcher to refill it with. Setting the empty glass back on the nightstand, Abigail glanced toward the door she knew led to the bathroom and considered getting a refill from the tap. But in the next moment she shook her head and wrinkled her nose at the thought. One thing she’d read over and over again while researching these kinds of places was to never drink the water. She really didn’t want to be sick again.

Sighing, she started to turn her gaze back toward the sliding doors, but paused as it fell on the large cooler by the bed. Abigail peered at it, her eyebrows rising. A cooler. It might have soda, or juice or something else lovely in it, she thought and was immediately on her feet, making her way toward it. She’d nearly reached the cooler when the bedroom door opened again.

Abigail paused and glanced to it just as Tomasso froze halfway into the room. The way his eyes widened and began to glow as they ran over her made her glance down to see that she’d been so caught up with her worries about the pain returning and then at the thought of something to drink that she hadn’t noticed that she was completely naked. Releasing a high-pitched squeal, Abigail whirled and rushed back to the bed. The sheet had slid off the mattress when she’d stood, so rather than jump back into bed, she snatched up the soft linen sheet and quickly pulled it around her shoulders to gather in front.

Abigail froze briefly then, blinking as she recalled what she’d seen when she glanced down. She then turned her back to Tomasso, opened the sheet and looked down at herself, before snapping it closed again with disbelief.

“Abigail?” Tomasso said gently.

Rather than respond, she reopened the sheet, took another look down, and then snapped it closed once more.

“Abigail?”

This time she turned to face Tomasso, but she was sidling around the room as she did, making her way toward the bathroom door. “Sorry. I need to—I’ll just be a minute. I have to—”

Abigail had reached the door by then and left her explanation unfinished as she slipped inside and slammed the door. A heartbeat later she was standing in front of the sinks, staring at the mirror behind them and her reflection in the voluminous sheet. She looked ridiculous. Her head was the only thing sticking out of the sheet and she had the worst bed head ever. Honestly, it looked like she’d stuck her finger in a light socket and been electrocuted or something.

Grimacing, Abigail ignored that, took a deep breath and opened the sheet for a third time.

“Holy Mother of God,” Abigail whispered as she stared at her body in the mirror. Honest to God, she had a figure, and a knockout one too. She’d kill for a figure like that. Or she would if it wasn’t hers already. Dengue fever was like the best diet ever.

She closed the sheet, just to have the pleasure of opening it again with a “Pow-pow!” And then she bounced on her feet to see what happened and was gratified to see that everything bounced with her, but her flesh didn’t move around like a bowl full of jelly or anything.

Abigail closed the sheet just to have the pleasure of opening it again with another “Pow-pow!”

“Abigail?”

She snapped the sheet closed and whirled toward the door, relieved to see it was still shut. “Yes?”

“Are you all right?”

“Oh, yeah, I’m great,” Abigail assured him cheerfully, moving to the shower to turn the taps on. “I’ll just be a minute.”

“Okay,” Tomasso murmured and she could hear the uncertainty in his voice.

He’d probably heard her pow-powing and thought the fever had damaged her poor brain or something, she thought wryly. Abigail wasn’t sure she’d mind if it had. It seemed a fair trade-off, this body for some of her brains.

Or maybe not, Abigail thought with the next breath. She kind of liked being smart. She didn’t feel any different mentally though, so hopefully that wasn’t an issue.

Letting the sheet drop to the floor, she whirled quickly to the mirror, her hands imitating guns, and said, “Pow-pow,” again as she pretended to shoot her reflection. She then raised one hand to her lips, blew on her index finger that was the “gun barrel,” and said, “Smokin’ hot.”

“Er . . . Abigail? Do you need help?” Tomasso asked through the door.

“No,” she said, her hands quickly dropping. “I’m good. I promise. I’ll be right out.”

When silence followed, she bit her lip, and then slipped into the shower for a quick rinse. Mostly it was to tame her wild hair, but when she realized the fever had left a faint, greasy film on her skin, Abigail grabbed the hotel soap and performed a fast cleanup. Even so, she didn’t take long and presented herself in the bedroom a couple minutes later, but with a fluffy white towel wrapped around her damp body rather than the sheet.

“Hi,” she said brightly, trying to act nonchalant about her state of dress as she stepped into the bedroom and stopped.

Tomasso’s eyes widened slightly as he looked at her in the towel, and his voice was deep and raspy when he responded with, “Hi.”

They were then both silent for a moment, but when it became obvious that Abigail wasn’t going to move back to the bed, Tomasso cleared his throat, hesitated, and then with worry filling his expression, said, “We need to talk. There are some things I need to explain and—”

“It’s okay,” Abigail interrupted. She just couldn’t take his worry. He looked like a puppy dog knowing it was about to get kicked, so she took a deep breath and said, “You don’t have to tell me. I know. You’re a vampire, right?”

She waited briefly then, half sure he would laugh and say she was crazy, and that there was no such thing as vampires. But instead his eyes widened incredulously and he gasped, “You know!”

Well, at least she wasn’t crazy, Abigail thought with a grimace, and then noting the worry on Tomasso’s face, shook the thought away and tried to take that worry away by saying, “It’s okay. Really. The way I figure it, you’re like Otis.”

“Otis?” he asked uncertainly.

“My friend Amy’s pit bull when I was growing up,” she explained.

“You think I am like a pit bull?” he asked, his voice choked.

“Not like just any pit bull, like Otis,” she corrected.

“Dear God,” Tomasso muttered, running a hand through his hair.

Beginning to think Otis hadn’t been the best opener for this conversation, Abigail frowned and said, “Never mind, forget Otis.”

“No. Please,” Tomasso said stiffly. “Continue telling me how you see me as a vicious dog.”

“That’s just it!” Abigail said at once. “Pit bulls get a bad rap but Otis wasn’t vicious at all. He was sweet, and affectionate and so very patient. He let us dress him up in tutus and tiaras and let the little kids hang off his ears and lead him around by the tongue . . . He was an awesome dog,” she assured him, and then added, “And I think that just because you’re a vampire it doesn’t mean that you’re this evil fiend and stuff. I think, like Otis, you’re awesome too.”

A long silence followed as Tomasso stared at her and then he said simply, “No.”

Abigail blinked uncertainly. “No, you’re not awesome?”

“Not a vampire,” he corrected.

“Oh.” Abigail shifted, feeling suddenly foolish. Wow. She’d really blown that. He probably thought she was crazy-town now. She should have kept her mouth shut and let him talk.

“We are immortal,” Tomasso announced.

Abigail stilled and then pursed her lips as her mind did a complete flip. So . . . he was the crazy one, she thought and said, “Okaaaay.”

“And so are you now.”

“Me?” she squeaked out with surprise.

Tomasso nodded, and admitted apologetically, “I turned you.”

“You turned me?” she asked, sure she’d misheard him.

But he nodded and said, “Sì.”

Abigail heard the word through a kind of fog. Much to her alarm, it felt like a filmy curtain had closed over part of her brain or something. And the room was now spinning as she’d feared it would since she’d woken up.