“He’s not answering.” Kallen strode into the library and let his ass fall onto the sofa, wedging himself between Darken and Kronos. Huge males, they were squished together, their thick shoulders bunched up, their thighs sticking out big as logs.

Nobody bitched, though. They needed the proximity, especially at a time like this when there was more torment than usual. Kallen leaned a little left, his weight falling more onto Darken.

God knew the guy could use the extra comfort. Dickweed beside him had let his Chosen One go because he didn’t want her around the violence of their uncontrolled outbursts. Couldn’t say he blamed him, but Daniela was still coming around. Skewing Darken’s logic, but hey, you couldn’t say the male wasn’t giving her every chance to run away. The asshat.

“What do you mean he’s not answering?” Angelia, Merrick’s beautiful blonde Chosen, sat up straighter. Which put her closer to the edge of the desk she was perched on. Merrick stiffened too, his hands all up and be careful as if she might fall off and hurt herself.

Totally amused at how pathetic a Chosen One could make her Kynd, Kallen answered her. “What I said. I sent out the vibe, but he didn’t respond. It’s like he fell off the grid.”

Drakus, from his usual spot on the window sill with the sheet of plywood behind him instead of the glass, whined as he curled around his folded arms. The poor bastard wasn’t having a good night. He hadn’t been having good days either since learning Uri had gone AWOL, so sharing what Kristov had told him was going to sink the guy’s battleship.

Shit. How in hell did you put a funny spin on the fact that Urick’s Chosen One killed Others? Or, to be more frank, Others like their brotherkynd Uri.

“He’s probably too weak to hear it.”

“Oh, you think.”

Merrick growled. “Start something. Go ahead.” As he went all Mike Tyson and rounded the desk, he put his bulk in front of Angelia, protecting her. Even though his wings had been shorn off in Hell, the chimera wasn’t defenseless. “Angel, you’re going to want to leave now.” The black mane of his lion sprouted down the sides of his neck, proving he had other toys in his arsenal besides his wings.

Angelia hopped off the desk and shoved him to the side. “Oh, for Pete’s sake, you two. Chill out. You’re upset, we get it. But fighting isn’t going to bring Uri back.”

“No, but the way Merrick fights would feel like dancing. And that always makes me feel better.”

Angelia pursed her lips to squash her smile. “Kallen, seriously?”

“Yeah. Your mate fights like Tinkerbell, all sproingy and shit.”

“Sproingy and shit.” Merrick planted his fists on his hips.

“Like you’re doing now. Going all Queen Latifah.”

“Queen La-Whofa?”

“Brother, you need to get out more. See more of the twenty-first century.”

Beside him, Kronos yipped out the start of a laugh, then locked his jaw around it. Big hand covering his mouth, he squirmed deeper into the couch cushions. Every gray eye in the room and Angelia’s blue ones riveted on the gargoyle. Every face shared the same miniscule smile, the tilt at the corner of their mouths. Like they looked at puppies playing or something.

Much better. That’s what he liked to see on his family’s faces. He was about to slash the Norman Rockwell painting with the news from Kristov, but it wasn’t as if that was new. Seemed any sunshine they found, God backed his ass up to it and shit all over it.

So, without further ado… “Kristov told me and Kronos the Chosen’s name is Violet.”

That got everyone’s attention. “She’s a hunter. And wait for the drumroll. She hunts us.”

Drakus’ dragon wings exploded from his back, pushing so hard against the plywood the force flung him to the floor. Which of course just gave his wings more room to spread, as if they needed runway clearance. The wind blew papers off the desk. Knuckles and knees grinding into the hardwood flooring, he didn’t lift his head as he stammered out, “S-sorry.”

Kallen’s troika on the couch kept their butts planted on the seat cushions. Any extra activity could set the dragon off more, so they were happy to sit like puppets. All stationary like they had hands up their asses.

“Drakus, love.” Angelia went to him while Merrick fretted behind her, the word Careful written all over him. Of course, he’d learned not to say it out loud. Angelia would scald him with a look, and the male’s nuts would shrivel. There was no getting between Angelia and her connection to the Kynd, at least, not while things were still salvageable.

“Glad I didn’t replace that window yet,” Darken said behind his fist. Since he’d put his Chosen’s needs above his own, he’d been playing Home Improvement, complete with the bloody mishaps. Good thing the Kynd were fast healers. The only thing missing was the laugh track.

“The house looks great by the way.” Merrick changed the subject because an audience was the last thing you needed when you were trying to screw your head on right.

“Thanks. You’d have thought figuring out sheetrock mud needed several layers and to dry in-between was astrophysics or something.”

“Worth it.” A comment from the Peanut Gallery.

“Glad you like it, Kron. Check this out.” They heaved themselves off the sofa to fawn over Darken’s handiwork with the library shelving.

“I didn’t even notice when I came in. When did you fix this?”

“A couple of days ago. It took me ages to match the varnish. But there’s this old man at Home Depot who…” And away they went. Every frigging one of them thrilled to be acting normal, even if one of their loved ones was trying not to lose it behind them. By the time Darken finished explaining the math behind the angle cuts he’d made on some of the boards, Angelia was giggling about something Drakus said.

Good. Good. The dragon chimera had reeled himself back in. A first. Though no one congratulated him. Sometimes you just needed to be ignored. A molehill made out of a mountain.

“So, anyways,” Kallen sat himself back on the center cushion of the leather sofa just as Kronos and Darken flanked him like before. “The mighty Triumvirate—no offense, Angelia—went to Violet’s apartment. They found some of her clothes with Other blood on it. Hence their deduction about her hunting.”

“But they didn’t find Kynd blood, right?” With Darken sitting so close, Kallen had to dip his head to talk to him or they’d kiss noses.

“Well, no.”

“So, why do you think she’d harm Uri?”

“Can you say logical conclusion?”

“Smart ass.”

“Darken’s right, though.” Blondie moved away from Drakus to hitch her hip to Merrick’s shoulder. He’d returned to his chair behind the desk, and if she wore steeper heels, she could sit on his shoulder like a parrot.

“How so?” A guttural question from Drakus, but hallelujah! A frigging lucid one.

“There was no Kynd blood, and we all know Chosen One’s have a special connection to their particular Kynd.” Beside him, Darken groaned and slid deeper into the cushions like he’d lost his bones.

“Sorry, Darken, but it’s true.” Angelia gave him her best I’m sorry face. Which would melt the ice off cream and make it all soft and gooey. Kind of like the gargoyle looked right then.

“He’s safe?” Kronos asked, but they all looked to Angelia as if she were their guiding star.

Unable to lie, she squirmed, attaching herself tighter to Merrick, who wrapped an arm around her hips and tugged her closer. Protective, he took charge. “He’ll be all right. We’ll go to Kristov’s tomorrow night, and get the Chosen’s address then search her apartment. We’ll see things the Vampyres missed.”

Once they had more clues, then what? Find her before she hurt Uri, of course. But if they were too late? Kallen’s gaze slid to Drakus, who’d gone back to his home base on the window sill.

Uri was the nicest frigging male he knew, even with his hungers riding him. If that Chosen so much as laid a blade against his skin, she’d learn an unimaginable definition for “unhinged.” Because watching Drakus struggle with the news of the bear chimera, he’d bet the farm the dragon would lose his shit and harm Violet.

Thank fuck he wouldn’t be going on this excursion with them.

“I’m going this time, to find the Chosen.” The determined growl echoed off the sheet of plywood.

Aaand there went his case of the reliefs. Kallen deflated into the couch cushions alongside Darken, a cold ball of dread forming in the pit of his stomach.

* * *

With Violet’s blood tickling through his navigation system, Uri’s teleporting worked top-notch. He landed on the fire escape just outside her kitchen window. Cupping his hands to the long pane, he peered in. Then wished himself inside.

Just like that, with the now-familiar wonky drag and spins, he was standing on her linoleum. The kitchen was narrow and long, so he didn’t need to throw his senses out to learn she wasn’t there. He took his size thirteens into the hallway, ears homed for the slightest sound.

Nada. But the farther down the hall he went, the thicker her scent grew around him, filling his nose and winding straight for his heart. The organ fluttered, excited to be surrounded by her. Uri pressed on.

The hallway was narrow like the kitchen, with doors on each side and a window at the end to give the illusion of more space. He peered around open doorways as he traveled, noticing the sparseness of each room. Two-thirds down, he stopped and sniffed. Hand trembling as he turned the knob, he pushed the door open.

What the hell? Adrenaline goosing him in the ass, Uri strode into the room, doing a slow circle to take in the four walls. “Hoooly shit.” Moonlight gleamed on knives, guns, throwing stars; the armament representing the eras of their evolution. All mounted and polished like museum pieces.

No wonder his Chosen had nearly gotten the upper hand with him. Violet was a fighter. It didn’t register until that moment his boots were squishing into the floor. Fighting mats. Where she could tumble and practice without bruising her bones or waking the neighbors below her.

As he scanned more of the room, his gander snagged on the man-sized punching bag hanging in the corner like a corpse. By the looks of its canvas skin, it had been playing crash test dummy with Violet’s fists for a long time. Scuffed and stained as if the thing had seen happier days, it hung in battered contrast to the gleaming collection of lethal metal on the walls.

She took great care of her weapons. How it must have killed her to grow weak! Remembering how pale she’d grown, humiliation swam in Uri’s guts, tightening his skin. He hadn’t taken care of his Chosen. In fact, he’d done everything to make her as miserable as he was. If only he could teleport back in time, to when he’d taken her from the hospital in his fit of rage, his memories swamping rational thought. Maybe he wouldn’t have been so hasty?

Maybe he should’ve asked her on that date like she’d suggested.

No. It had seared his pride to tell her, but he’d been honest about his hunger and not having control. Hell, the difference was streaming in his blood right now, his little brain cells all wakey-wakey like they’d made a pit-stop at Starbucks. The difference from then to now was shameful. It was wrong of him to have tasted of her, to cave to his weakness and become the very thing he detested. A blood sucker. Not Kynd. Uri squeezed his fists like he could strangle the thought.

And what do you know? It worked. While he put a choke hold on his demons, he could recall the feel of her little fangs working on his wrist. His knees loosened as the memory engulfed him. So easy it was to feel again how her body had moved in rhythm with his. Their lusts taking control so they were as one.

A shudder rippled through him, and Uri shook like his fur was on the outside. Not wholly united, no. He’d derailed that train with his fears. A good thing. He could have lost himself—

“Shut the fuck up, Bear.” Man, the needle was wearing a groove and he’d lost—what?—a half hour standing in the middle of a room that should be tripping all kinds of warning flags. Violet was a hunter, not just a fighter. None of the weapons on her walls were for self-defense. So, he needed to get his ass in gear and latch onto her while her trail was still warm.

Those children at the hospital needed him to focus and get moving. His Chosen’s blood in his veins wasn’t going to last forever. Except the boats on the ends of his legs sailed him back into the hallway, where it was a short walk to where her scent pooled thickest. Pressing his fingers to the door, he pushed it open slowly as a low roar flared up in his gut.

Her bedroom. Her bed. Top sheet and blankets twisted together, bottom sheet rumpled. His Chosen suffered nightmares? He was on his knees sniffing the evidence before he came to his senses. Like he needed to have his face so close to where she lay vulnerable. Where her scent pooled thick even though it was cool. His trembling hands skimmed the mattress as though his palms might pick up a hint of her.

As though she lay before him and he dared caress her bare skin while she let him. Loving Christ. Uri shoved himself upright and gave his head another shake, even as he wished like hell she was right in front of him. Not laying down but facing him with her fierceness, acting like the tough, little vampire she was.

Why in hell did he keep thinking of her in terms of precious and little? She wasn’t. Violet was a grown vampire female with curves and lethal tendencies. If that combo didn’t rouse him to action, then he needed to find the nearest ledge and park his stone ass on it permanently.

All right then. Now that he’d given himself a mental slap on his puss, he was ready. Pulling up the awful scene where he’d watched her stalk into a ward full of sleeping children, Uri surrendered to the atom-fizzies and imagined himself there once again.

* * *

Of all the places she should be fleeing to, Violet found herself back at Maine Medical Center. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Even dumber was the fact she was riding in an elevator after materializing outside the cafeteria behind the row of dumpsters. Her landing pad as it were. One she relied on every night she visited the kids. It was private as hell in that back lot. By the graveyard shift, most of the cleaning of the kitchen had already been done, the trash taken out and awaiting pick up in the morning.

The added benefit of this location was the wall of windows. At night, patrons couldn’t see out, but she could get a good long gander in. It’s how she’d first seen her friend Daniela. The woman had been sitting alone at a corner table, stirring a cup of coffee as if her thoughts were elsewhere.

Turned out, they were. Daniela was the liaison between the hospital and police department for domestic abuse cases. That particular night, she’d had to interview a mother who had had most of her teeth knocked out of her head protecting her daughter. The two were sharing a room, the little girl with her broken arm too upset to be apart from her mom.

For some reason, Violet had been drawn to the woman who seemed to take in the pain of her clients and wear it openly in private moments. As if she removed it from her shoulders to hold in her hands, worrying over the quilt of bruises stitched together with the heavy thread of violence. They’d spent that first night sharing each other’s company and not much else. But the silence between them had been the fertile ground in which to build a friendship. On Violet’s side, at least.

She knew human friendships were supposed to involve more than just sitting together with few words spoken. Nights out, shopping excursions and the like, though Daniela never seemed to want more, either. Over time, she’d become Violet’s only friend. A friendship she cherished.

And is probably lost.

Now as she leaned against the wooden hand rail inside the elevator as it climbed upward, it didn’t seem like quite an oddity that she and Daniela should bond over shitty, day old coffee. Daniela was a Chosen One for the Kynd just like she was. No wonder there’d been a connection. Like maybe God Himself had engineered their meeting, putting them together, and Violet that much closer to Urick.

The elevator pinged, announcing her floor. Before the heavy doors slid open, she rubbed her hands down the front of her coat, ironing out the jitters more than trying to straighten her appearance. As if she could mask the fact her body was singing so fiercely with the Kynd’s blood raging through her veins. She doubted humans would hear the low-grade humming, but what if she bumped into one of the Others? What if Urick was following the vibrations even now?

Which was why she launched her ass out of the elevator. Yeah, it had a second door opposite the one she exited, but it was still a box, ergo a trap if the chimera found her. No way would those sliders open faster than that beast could move. Boots quiet on the buffed tile, she resisted looking down the dim lit corridor behind her.

She had other things to do. Namely, figure out how to filter the sharpness of her senses since taking Urick’s blood. Was this what it was like to be Kynd? No wonder they missed so little. She might as well be a satellite station, receiving signals from planet Nebulon. The bear chimera’s blood was some potent shit, which was why she’d gone hasty pudding in getting her butt to the hospital.

If she shared this with some of the more critical kids?

Talk about a boost onto the main deck of the S.S. Screw You, Cancer. Her excitement over the prospect of those kids getting just that much better put her heart into Fred Astaire territory. Steps quickening but not growing louder with the hurried pace, she beat feet for the place where…Urick…had…kidnapped…her.

She slowed to a stop like a wind-up toy, her palm flat on the metal plate that with one push would open the heavy wooden door onto the ward lined with human children. Surely, he would follow her here. And then what, kidnap her again?

Not likely after he’d ordered her to run. She was being ridiculous and paranoid, the time spent as a captive gnawing at her self-confidence like mice on a bar of soap. He’d freed her, damn it, he wouldn’t hunt her down.

Would he?

Who gave a shit! She was wasting time with these insecurities. Time that was fast metabolizing the Kynd blood in her system. Blood she wanted to share with sick children who would die otherwise. Making her existence as a parasite much more bearable.

Right. Squaring her shoulders, she pressed on the paddle and cracked the door just enough to squeeze through. Unlike the other times, though, her heart tapped a soft shoe dance in her chest. With short breaths like she’d run up all those flights of stairs instead of taking the elevator, she went straight for the fourth bed and managed an even exhale when she saw Jaime still in it.

A beautiful young girl despite the absence of hair and the bruising under her closed lashes. In the two weeks Violet had been gone, new machines had been added. Not a clue what they were for exactly, but she knew their gist. With her sense of smell so much stronger now, she could smell the rot of the cancer as it ate deeper into the girl’s bones. If Urick had kept her longer…

Resentment grew like a water blister as she knelt at the edge of the bed and was struck by what she was about to do. Bite. No pretty way to say how she was going to pierce that fragile skin, the veins running stark and blue under the surface of such pallid skin. The pulse was weak but regular, at least. She’d arrived in time to help the girl, by taking some of the sewage out and replacing it with a pure distillate from a heavenly being. Frowning, Violet sat on her heels and ran her palms down her thighs.

Shit. Now was not the time to have a moment. She wasn’t going to go all Hallmark over what Urick had given her, and by turn, she could offer to this dying human girl. The frigging beast had given his essence to her freely. She knew that, and it didn’t take her anywhere but right back to him. The beast from Heaven who was fucked up seven ways from Sunday, but who had still, in his messed up way, put her first.

“Don’t do it.” The raspy whisper came from behind her. Every tic and pulse point in her body fell quiet as her muscles stiffened. “Please. Don’t harm the girl.” The growl was one of desperation, and it chewed up the skin of her back like a chainsaw. Violet’s heart broke free of its fetters, smashing itself against its bony cage.

Throat dry, she scratched out, “What?” Her frightened stare glued itself to the inside of Jaime’s delicate arm, yet she felt the warmth of Urick’s bulk as he neared. God almighty, he was big looming up behind her, his presence too much.

“She’s an innocent, Violet. You don’t have to do this.”

“What in hell are you talking about?” Her voice sounded like it scraped up the business side of a cheese grater, and she flinched when big hands curled around her upper arms. They squeezed without force, more of a mini-hug than a grab. When her body relaxed into it, she stiffened against the allure of surrendering.

“Come with me. We’ll talk about this.” The grip never changed, but somehow, she knew he was losing an inner battle. And then what? He’d hurt the children?

“No.” If she went with him, she would inadvertently hurt the children. Jaime did not have many weeks left before her body would be overwhelmed by the invader. It would grow too weak to fight the cancer while she was held captive once again. Both of them prisoners with different wardens.

“Come,” he bit out.

“No, the girl—”

“Will die in her own time.”

Not on her watch, damn it. As she craned her neck to finally look at the male who held her, Violet’s shoulders twisted, tightening the grip he had on her. “I won’t let that girl die!”

The spot between Urick’s eyebrows made a vee. “What?”

“The girl.” When the descriptive came out of her mouth, Violet’s throat closed up and she felt the sting of tears building at the back of her eyes. Pushing through it, she lanced the chimera holding her with a hard glare. “She’ll die if we don’t help.” We? Freudian slip, surely.

Urick, apparently, was just as perplexed by the pronoun as she was. That vee splitting his forehead in half etched deeper. “What are you talking about?” His gaze searched her face as if the answers lurked on her cheekbones, her chin.

Gray eyes. She’d never seen him so clearheaded. Her blood had done this to him? He had admitted to being starved, but could so little do so much? “Y-your blood and mine. It will make the girl stronger so she can fight the disease.”

“This is what you were doing?” His harsh tone didn’t match the shame flaring in his stare. A stare that now marbled with streaks of black. Should she trust him when clearly, he wasn’t wrapped as tight as she’d just thought?

Or was the vampire dominating because it was pleased?

For once in her life, she wasn’t sure how to go about getting out of this scrape. Trust the Kynd in front of her? Have faith in a male vampire’s mating instincts? If she fought him here, would he hurt the children? He hadn’t during their first altercation, but then he hadn’t wasted words when he’d done the grab and teleport.

This time he seemed to be giving her a choice. And wasn’t it just her luck she couldn’t figure her ass out from her elbow. Ducky. Nothing like taking the first step off an unfinished bridge…

“We’ll talk, yes?” She gripped his elbow and noticed then how wet he was, though his skin was blazing hot. His hair still had crystals of snow, which winked in the light of the monitors.

He was also naked as sin. Violet slipped from his grasp, putting distance between them. Urick’s now empty hands cupped his manhood. God damn, what a specimen. She couldn’t help but notice his long, thick thighs growing out from the point where he hid himself. Above his folded hands? An. Eight. Pack. Chiseled and glistening from melted snow. Licking her lips, her gaze traveled upward and over his wide shoulders, tripped on his bobbing Adam’s apple before falling flat on his lips.

Full lips even though they were pressed tight over fangs. Vampire fangs, not bear teeth, as he’d clearly been just moments before teleporting into this room.

“Are your clothes on the roof over there?” She nudged her chin at the window behind him.

In the muted light of the ward, she could see his cheeks flush. Man, that Kynd blood had some awesome side effects. She could see in the dark before, but now it was like a layer of film had been peeled off everything.

“It was snowing,” he said as if that was enough of an explanation. Though she supposed it was. He’d known she would come here and he’d waited in his bear form, protecting himself from the snow.

“You didn’t dress before teleporting in here?”

“No, I…” He dipped his chin then lifted it defiantly, working those broad beam shoulders, the muscles rolling over thick bones. “I didn’t think.”

Because he’d been so outraged? Nope. Standing in front of her like Adonis, Urick looked luscious…whoops…lucid as all get out. If she could scrape her thoughts out of the gutter and remember why she’d raced to a sick girl’s bedside, she’d realize she’d already made up her mind.

“Help us.” Her voice came out stronger than she thought it would. She didn’t want to sound like a beggar, but then did she care? No. Not with Urick standing in front of her and the sick kids surrounding them.

When had she decided this Kynd made her feel a little stronger? Not just his blood, but him. His presence.

“This isn’t a trick?”

She shook her head, feeling a little bad about how many times she’d kneed him where it hurt most. Though now wasn’t the time to go soft. “No trick. Not if you’re going to help.” Her stomach fluttered as anticipation flapped around inside it. Urick’s blood in these children? Holy shit, she’d won the lottery.

“Come with me while I get dressed.”

Aaaand she held only four numbers out of six. The happy bird in her belly fell still, a warm ball in her center. She eyed the other rooftop through the window, still surprised by how much her eyesight had improved. If his blood had done this to her, imagine what it could do for Jaime. She nodded as her thoughts caught up.

“You’ll come because you want to.” A raspy command, but a plea nonetheless.

“Y-yeah. Yeah, all right.” When she looked him in the eye, she saw resolve softened by relief. The little bird in her belly fluttered.

Urick held out his big hand. As her fingertips started itching, Violet made a fist to keep from reaching for him, the urge to touch him overwhelming. Forcing herself to stay put, she said, “If you kidnap me again, you will live to regret it.”

“No, no more. I’ve harmed my…No, we do this as a truce between us.” His level gaze razed her insides flat. Not like a bulldozer smashing a house, but like a bomb when you’re standing ten feet from the site of detonation. She thought she even swayed a little, pictured her hair flying back from her face with a whoosh, and got a little giggly.

“What?”

“Nothing. It’s just…” Your blood coursing through my veins, nothing more. “You’re standing next to Winnie the Pooh.” There was a poster of the yellow bear and Piglet taped to the foot of one of the kid’s beds. They were holding hands and walking, wearing smiles.

“So?”

Violet shook her head. “Nothing. Like I said.” As she moved closer to him she resisted taking his hand again. She wasn’t Piglet, and they weren’t friends. Besides, she’d bet the farm there wasn’t anything cute about Urick in bear form.

“I’ll see you on the ledge.” With the warning clear, there wasn’t anything cute about his gargoyle form, either. Then he disappeared, and she saw him materialize on the roof of the adjacent building. He shook as if the falling snow was landing on him then bent to grab his jeans.

Holy Moses, what a bod. As he stabbed his legs into his jeans and hiked them over his taut ass, her brain went on hiatus. Turning toward her while he wrestled his t-shirt over his head, she got to watch that eight pack flex. After dragging the tight cotton down his torso, he stood with his hands on his hips, watching her.

She watched back.

When he balled his hands into fists, she came to. He was waiting for her to follow him and she hadn’t. At least, not quickly enough. Perversely, she made him wait a few seconds more, taking willful pleasure in his growing unease.

Hey, sue her, but he owed her. Big time. Riling his fur wasn’t only fun, it was a good reminder that he was supposed to be kissing her ass, making up for what he’d done to her. Stirring the hornets’ nest? You bet. She’d give a fig when he broke her bones and supped on her marrow. Until then, she was going to make him squirm.

Just as she saw him curse she willed herself outside, the bite of the winter air enveloping her instantly.

“You like to play it loose, don’t you?” His hair seemed even darker with fresh snow on it, his eyes that much more shining gray.

“So, you’ll help?” The shivers took up residence, her fleece no match for the plummeting temp of a February night. Rubbing her upper arms, she glanced back from where she’d come. Jaime lay in the same position, the machines winking silently beside her.

When she turned back to look at Urick, he was watching where she’d been.

“Her name’s Jaime if you were wondering.”

His gaze made a slow drag back to her.

“She’s ten. I’ve known her for about two years.”

Urick sat down on an air vent, elbows on his knees. If she didn’t know better, she might start thinking he regretted what he’d done. Taking a deep breath, she sat down next to him, glad that her fleece jacket covered her ass so it wouldn’t get wet.

“And Winnie the Pooh?” He stared down at the snow slick tar of the roof under his boots instead of looking at her.

“I don’t know.” She compared their boots side by side. Hers looked half the size. “Several months.”

As he gripped his thighs, his hands were pale against the dark denim.

“So, I bet it’s hard to hide those beauts in public.” She nudged her chin.

It was a heavy bag of seconds before he answered. “These?” Urick surveyed his claws, then shrugged. “I don’t exactly have to worry about it.”

“Ah.” Because he hid out along with the rest of the Kynd, no doubt. Since appearing from wherever they’d been for the last couple thousand years or so, none of the Others had really seen them. It wasn’t a stretch to figure humans hadn’t either.

The falling snow made the silence seem that much more prominent.

Violet tucked her hands into her coat pockets.

“You’re cold.” As Urick leaned into her, she felt him stretch his arm out. She launched to her feet, hands at her sides and ready.

“Shit. I only meant…” He shook his head as he let it drop between his shoulders. When he looked up at her, his eyes were mostly gray, the black streaks receding.

“Your eyes change a lot.”

He dropped his head again, raising his forearms to rub his head on. “Yeah.”

God, he seemed so frigging harmless sitting there on a metal box in just a t-shirt. He seemed helpless, too, and a lot lost. She was going to regret this, but she sat back down beside him.

“I’m fucked, Violet. So fucked. As you know.”

She didn’t laugh with him. He hadn’t pushed out the kind of chuckle that was funny.

Was she an asshole for what she was about to ask? Naw. He owed her. “So…about the girl. You’ll help?”

He held his hands out, palms up as if all he saw in them was nothing. Not because they were empty right then, but empty all the time, worthless. Her heart did one of those little flips where it hurt for a second. Damn him.

“You said you would.”

“Jesus, Ch—Violet, you just said how much my eyes change.”

“So.”

“They change because I’m skipping from one being to another and back again as fast as a fucking dealer in Vegas. You want me around those kids?”

“Point taken.” It was a few minutes before she realized they were both leaning forward, her pose mimicking his except she’d shoved her hands back into her jacket pockets. “So, you’re going to help then?”

* * *

“You’re not a quitter, I’ll give you that.” Here he was, a cocktail mixed by a drunk bartender, and she was standing her ground still asking for his help. He wasn’t stupid. If he didn’t help, she’d bolt.

If he helped her, he’d fucking lose it. He stood up to wrangle the trembling. Getting to her feet, too, she watched him with wary eyes. Smart woman. Why in fuck did he appreciate that? Like he needed another emotion to deal with right then. She was a vampire. He hated the parasites with a passion that spilled out of him so often he’d lost track.

Yet, he’d had a WTF moment when he caught her helping the human kids. “I gotta walk a second.” He didn’t wait for her reply, just started pacing as his brain played hopscotch with six rocks.

“I’m going inside while you figure your shit out. It’s freezing out here.”

As he twisted with a case of the Hey-whats, she materialized back in the children’s ward. He’d breathe a sigh of relief if he could actually breathe.

Without removing her coat, she went straight for the bed where the girl Jaime was sleeping. His insides flared with something searing, making him think, oddly, of little men inside him with tiny clothes irons.

Jesus, he was losing it.

His brain swam in his skull all frantic like it was drowning and desperately wanted rescuing. His body kept trembling, trying to give a shit. He riveted his attention on the woman behind the glass, praying like the newly repented she wasn’t going to hurt the girl. Knowing she wouldn’t stabbed at him like a steel bar. Jab in, slide out. Jab in, slide out.

When she folded the blankets away from the girl’s arm and bent over it, Uri lost the war. His senses honed as sharp as the edge of broken glass; he landed so close to her it was the work of a nanosecond to wrap his arms around her and yank her to his stomach. “No,” he managed to bite out as he disappeared them to the one place he automatically thought of when vampires and sanctuary were his foremost thoughts.

The cave.

Ruby, Arizona. Once a thriving mining town, it was now a ghost of itself. Abandoned buildings, desert all around, and heat in February that enveloped him the second his feet hit the packed dirt. Talk about a climate change from Maine. Twenty degrees to eighty in minutes, it was like walking from a refrigerator into an oven.

“Son of a bitch! You brought me back.” Pissed off words served with an elbow shot to his solar plexus. “You said you’d help.”

As Uri wrestled with the viper in his grasp, he grated out, “I will.” Even though he wasn’t sure how he was going to pull it off. Dig deeper for your Chosen, asswipe. He held onto her as he navigated the tunnel into the Earth. He could feel the lead, zinc, and copper embedded in the walls of the mine shaft as he took them deeper.

Violet would be able to, as well. “You’re a…a…an unethical bastard!”

Obviously. He set her down while she still squirmed, her body a living electric wire against him. He wanted to keep holding her just for the sensation of it. He wanted to lose himself in the touch of…his woman. Not his Kynd. This was stimulating in a way touching his brethren just didn’t accomplish.

Vampire fangs dropping down, he released her. Fear crawled over his skin.

“I can’t believe you brought me back here after saying you’d help. I should have known. God damned Kynd bastards. Unholy, every frigging one of you.”

She was right, of course. God had damned them. Except. Rubbing his hands up and down his arms, he said, “I’m the unholy one, not my brethren.”

Violet paused in her rant. “All right. Fine. I have faith that my friend Daniela isn’t that stupid. I’m the unfortunate one to have gotten paired with you.” She found the corner she’d used before and plunked her ass into it.

Defeated, Uri squatted, too. Unable to resist being close to her, though, he stayed within her personal space. His throat knotted like someone strangled him. All he could do was nod his head, agreeing with her.

The sound of her sigh rippled through him like a warm current, and he watched her nestle her back against the wall, preparing to stay for the long haul. Hatred burned like a living thing in her amber eyes. Even reposed, she looked vibrant, brimming with life.

Unlike the young girl at the hospital. Not like Winnie the Pooh, either, the sick kid curled into an overlarge bed like a newly hatched robin. His eyes sat too big in a thin face, his lids blue and bruised. Every fragile bone showing under pale skin.

“Tell me what you were doing in the hospital ward.” His stomach felt like it had a case of the dishrags. All twisting and wringing.

Violet tensed, her intensity manifesting in her strong body. “I was helping a girl to live, you schmo. And you stopped it. You barged in with your insanity and your I can’t handle this bullshit and stopped it like the ignoramus you are.”

Welllllll. She had a point. Ashamed, Uri couldn’t hold her gaze. The deep breath he took didn’t go half as far as he needed it to. He took another. And another as his muscles unknotted a little, relaxing when they finally had some oxygen in their deprived cells. “You’re right. I should have left you alone. I shouldn’t have followed you.”

“Yeah, you should’ve left me alone. So, why didn’t you?” Not exactly a question. More like an accusation. He answered her anyway.

“I was afraid for the kids. I thought…” He managed to look at her. “I thought you were harming them. Feeding on their…” His panties got a twist and he fidgeted. “I thought you were feeding on sick kids, and with my blood in your veins, you were hungry for more.”

“Well, you missed that by a mile, Captain Cripple.”

Deserved. And at least she was talking to him. Hope ignited short and fast as a spark plug. Insults aside, her voice calmed him like nothing he’d known before. If they kept up the dialogue, maybe he could work out how to get on track with her, how to help like he said he would and bring some honor to his Kynd, if not himself.

There was no honor in being vampire. His gaze volunteered for a slow trek along Violet’s curves. Fine. His Chosen One was the exception. She was helping kids because…shit. She exchanged blood with them, taking the illness into herself while giving them her blood. First thought? He wanted to bellow at this cancer sickness for being anywhere near this woman. The second brain fart: something good might come of his being different from other Kynd.

Uri raked his hands across his head to hide their shaking. “You rushed to them to share what I’d given you. Why would you do such a thing when my blood—”

“Is rocket fuel, restorative on a superhero level? Oh, I don’t know.” She waved her hand. “Maybe because it’s the best shot those kids have.”

“You think my blood would help them?” He couldn’t have been more astonished if she sauntered over to nestle in his arms. Voluntarily.

“Of course, dimwit! You’re freaking Kynd. Monster-ish, yeah, but you guys carry ambrosia in your veins.”

Uri growled, his memories railroading him to the station he was all too sickeningly familiar with.

“What? Too damaged to handle a happy truth?” Violet stood up, her eyes narrowing.

That precious blood she was fond of went cold in his veins. “What would you know about it?” There had been so many fanged faces hovering over his chained body. He remembered everyone, but maybe he’d missed hers?

He got to his feet when she did. Only when she stepped toward him, he backed up.

“Afraid of me?”

“Scared I’ll hurt you.”

The exacerbating fiend of a woman shook her head. “No. I’m your Chosen.”

Such conviction! His feet ran him in reverse until he hit the dirt wall. He could move sideways away from her, but he was riveted as if her approach magnetized him. “Yes,” he agreed, the single word answer all he could muster as he watched the nearing fox like a pinned rabbit.

Her scent slid like tendrils up his nose, through his whole body. She was so close now she tilted her chin to keep looking at him. She parted her lips to say something then cocked her head.

“You’re truly afraid.”

The trembling that once resided in his hands spread all over his skin. Answer enough, he didn’t need to voice it.

“Not of hurting me, though. Of what I am. What you are.”

“Not…”

Her amber eyes glittered with a comprehension he’d seen only in his brethren. “Other vampires have harmed you.” She halted when her body was close enough he could feel her heat, but she didn’t touch him. “Who?”

He swallowed. “Doesn’t matter.” He’d recognize her scent even in his memories. He’d never known her while he’d been chained for feasting. “Oh, God.” Memories erupted, swamping him. Obliterating the image of the one bravely standing before him. Panicked, Uri turned running back, stiff-arming Violet out of his way as he fled.

To where? He didn’t give a fuck. Moving reminded him he wasn’t chained to a stone slab, reminded him he was free from his enslavement.

“Urick.”

The sound of his name upon her beautiful voice unhinged his legs, and he crashed to his kneecaps, palms scraping into the dirt of the floor.