Marcus had thought he could never be more frantic than when the elevators had closed, separating him from Jax. He’d been wrong. Seeing Lazarus dive through the window with Jax was almost enough to paralyze him, but he shook it off.

His job was no longer to protect Bond but to eliminate Lazarus. Swiftly. Once and for all.

He gave immediate chase.

Marcus hurled himself down the elevator shaft, knowing Lazarus would go to the bowels of the building. In less than an hour, it would be dawn.

“Alpha leader,” Godfather called in Marcus’s earpiece. “What’s going on?”

“Lazarus has taken Shane’s form and he has Jax. I’m in pursuit.”

“Jax,” Marcus softly said, knowing that even though Lazarus had her she would still have her com on. “Can you hear me?”

“I can hear you loud and clear, Marcus,” Lazarus sneered.

Marcus’s heart skipped several beats. “A trade,” he said. “Her for me.”

“Why make a trade when I can have you both?”

“I’ ll hunt you down and stake you in the Sahara if you harm one hair on her head.”

Lazarus laughed. “Fear not, my friend, it’s the neck, not the head, I fancy.” He laughed again and sighed in exaggerated contentment. “I never thought I’d live to see the day when you’d pine over a woman, and a mortal one to boot. A mortal until dawn, anyway. Then I will turn her or she will die in the process. And she will belong to me.” Lazarus laughed demonically. “As a furie. How will it feel when I give her the kill command for you, Marcus? How will it feel when your enemy lover is stalking you to the death?”

“What do you want?” Marcus bit out.

“I want Bond. You have fifteen minutes to tell me you have him or I cut your girl’s heart out.”

“And when I have him?”

“You’ ll have to wait to find out.”

Marcus turned off his mic and hurried back to the Wardman Tower and Godfather.

He strode angrily down the hall of the penthouse floor where the senators and Godfather were.

“I heard it all,” Godfather said.

“I want Bond,” Marcus demanded.

“I can’t do that, Cross,” Godfather said, stepping in front of the senator’s door.

“If you don’t move, I’ ll kill you and every one of your men here.”

“Where is Lazarus?”

“Move aside.”

“I want Jax as much as you do, Cross—” Godfather began.

Marcus grabbed him by the throat and shoved him hard against the door, lifting him off the floor. “No. You don’ t.”

Marcus felt the press of Godfather’s team behind him. He didn’t want to hurt them, but he would. Godfather warned them off. He grabbed Marcus’s hands and pushed them away, but only because Marcus let him. He set Godfather down.

Godfather cleared his throat. “Let’s be smart about this, shall we?”

“We have less than ten minutes.”

“We’ ll use the decoy, but only if he gives his permission.”

“No decoy. Lazarus will know the difference. He’ ll kill Jax.”

“Take a look at the decoy before you say no. He’s a dead ringer,” Godfather said, then turned and knocked on the door to the senator’s room, where the decoy was also staying. He was gone for less than a minute.

The door opened and Godfather motioned Marcus in. He came face-to-face with two men who could pass for twins. Both tall, dark-haired, brown-eyed, almost nondescript. The kind of face that blended in. The only difference was two inches in height. From the dossier photos of Bond, Marcus guessed the one on the right was the real senator.

“Have either one of you met a Colonel Joseph Lazarus?” Marcus asked.

“I have not,” the Bond on the left said. His voice carried the same deep cadences as the voice samples Marcus had listened to.

“Nor have I,” the other Bond said. Remarkable. Virtually no difference. Since neither had ever met Lazarus, so much the better.

“Which one of you is the real senator?”

The man on the left stepped forward. Marcus looked to the decoy. “You fooled me.” He pulled a wooden stake from his inside jacket pocket and handed it to the decoy. “Find a place for this.” Then he handed him his Glock loaded with vampire-killing rounds. “Don’t use these unless Lazarus makes a threatening move on you. Aim for the heart. Now let’s go.”

As he strode down the hall with the decoy Bond in tow, Marcus turned the mic back on. “I have him.”

“Bring him to the ballroom. Come alone, Marcus. My friends don’t play well with others, and it’s my friends holding the girl.”

“Let me talk to her.”

“Not until I see Bond.”

“No proof of life, no Bond.”

“Marcus—” Jax cried out as Lazarus hit her.

Marcus cursed, knowing that if he didn’t beat Lazarus to the draw, Bond or not, Jax was dead. He killed his mic and cursed.

“We’ ll be right behind you,” Godfather said.

“No,” Marcus growled. “He’ ll kill her.” Lazarus was going to kill her regardless. “Let me get into the same room as him and then I’ ll eliminate him.”

For a long minute, Godfather didn’t say a word. Then he held out his hand. “I’m trusting you to bring my top operative home. Alive.”

Marcus looked down at the proffered hand and took it. “I will, sir.”

Then Marcus looked to the decoy. “Don’t be a hero. Don’t say a word, just follow my every command without hesitation. Do that and we’ ll all walk out of here alive.”

“I’m a retired ranger, son. I can handle myself,” the decoy said.

As they passed through the long glass corridor that connected the original tower to the newer hotel, Marcus noted that the rain had stopped. Between the clouds, the first blush of dawn began to rise.

That was good. More than good. It might give them the chance they’d need.

He walked purposefully through the main gathering area, then right toward the ballroom. The corridors were eerily quiet and the carpeted floors sucked up their footsteps. Only the far-off sound of vacuums disturbed the early morning hour. The doors to the grand ballroom were closed. Marcus selected the ones farthest to the right to enter. He paused for a moment and drew a deep breath through his nose. Jax was on the other side.

As they entered the dark room, Marcus could see it was already set up for the conference, with a stage at the far end, and rows upon rows of chairs and press stands.

The scent was becoming stronger. The lights flooded on with a harsh flash. The decoy blanched and pulled back. Marcus grabbed his shoulder and pulled him deeper into the room.

“That’s far enough,” Lazarus said from above him. Marcus looked up. Lazarus hung suspended from a light bar, Jax dangling from his right hand. Several furies stuck to the ceiling like bats around them.

Jax’s hands and feet were tied behind her back. He had immobilized her. “I’m going to kill you, Lazarus,” Marcus softly said.

His maker scoffed. “Then you kill yourself. You’ re willing to give up your life?”

“Yes.”

“For a woman?”

“For the woman.”

Lazarus sighed. “I can give you back your mortality, Marcus, and I will allow her to live.”

Until two weeks ago Marcus had thought the only thing he’d wanted had been the return of his mortal life. Now, he didn’t care about that. Only one life mattered to him at the moment. “In exchange for what?”

“You leave Bond and walk out of here and never look back.”

Lazarus had just shown his cards. Making the offer meant that Lazarus knew Marcus’s strength and knew it was enough to kill him. “No.”

“Let me remind you. Rurik is not only my creator; in our mortal lives we were of the same bloodline. He considers me his son. If I should fall by another’s hand, and you should survive this day, Rurik will make you beg for death.”

“I’m willing to take that chance.”

“There is no chance, Marcus! Betray your maker and pay with eternal torture. Destroy your maker and die the same death. It cannot be changed; it is our law, as well you know!” Lazarus shook Jax at him. “Why have you turned against me? Against The Solution?”

“Because you are no better than a crazed fanatic. You have lost your perspective. Too many innocent lives have been lost for your personal causes. I want no part of it.”

“That is unfortunate, Marcus. I am on the precipice of my greatest triumph. The White House! I will rule the free world!” He threw Jax across the room, then swept down upon the decoy. Marcus leapt after her. She hit the wall with a sickening thud. Before he could reach out to her, the furies swarmed him like wasps on a mouse.

Marcus’s fury was so intense that all he could see was red. He rose up against the mercenaries, who were slashing and stabbing him with their fangs and claws. He didn’t feel any of it. Instead, he grabbed them and twisted them with his bare hands, tearing them apart limb by limb. Their blood splattered across his face and drenched his hands. In a wild frenzy, he destroyed them.

As they smoldered to dust on the carpet, he went to Jax. He pulled her into his arms. He felt her broken bones and damaged organs, but she breathed. “Jax,” he said gently, smoothing her hair from her face. “You’ re going to be all right.” He kissed her lips and rubbed his forehead against hers. He felt as if his heart was ripping in half. The overload of emotion he felt at that moment was indescribable. Never had he loved anything or anyone in his life. He was clueless to how that emotion was supposed to feel. But what he felt for Jax had to surpass even that. He could not bear her death and would gladly give up his life to preserve hers.

“If I were human, I would never let you go except to die for you. Again and again if I had to.” He kissed her again and said against her lips, “Good-bye.”

Then he turned on his mic and looked for Bond. Gone. Lazarus had him. “Godfather, I’m bringing Jax out, meet me in the main lobby.”

Marcus held her close to his chest, trying not to move her. She had hit the wall hard. He knew she was broken inside. He prayed the blood he had given her the night before would sustain her life until she could get to a hospital.

Reluctantly, Marcus handed her over to Gage. Marcus scowled, not liking the way the man took possession of her as if he had some right to her. Marcus shook off the jealousy. Maybe he did have a right to her. She would be better off with her own kind than with him. Marcus inhaled, then focused on what needed to be done.

He followed Lazarus’s scent. He was headed for the old tower. The decoy was still alive.

And the sun was rising.

Marcus took off after Lazarus, who was just leaving the glass corridor, dragging the decoy behind him. “Lazarus!” Marcus yelled. The colonel turned around, and Marcus sprung like a panther at him. At the same time, the decoy pulled the Glock and shot Lazarus at point-blank range in the face. Lazarus roared in fury and knocked the decoy aside, then turned and ran for the tower. Marcus flew after him, knocking him into the wall. Plaster crumbled around them. Lazarus shook Marcus off and bounded for the stairway. Marcus grabbed him by the leg and hauled him backward, then swung him up into the air. Lazarus crashed into the ceiling but grabbed onto the chandelier. He yanked it from its anchor and hurled it down at Marcus. He easily dodged it. As Lazarus descended, Marcus leapt up and hit him. Lazarus grabbed hold of Marcus, and they went crashing to the ground.

Rolling over and over from the impact of the hit, Marcus twisted with Lazarus, then, on the fly, yanked him up by the shoulders and hurled him hard toward the all-glass corridor. Lazarus rolled, but he was strong and was onto Marcus’s game. He dug his feet into the carpet, slowing his velocity. The patterned carpet ripped in waves behind him. Finally, more than twenty feet deep into the glass corridor, he stopped. Then stood. Marcus moved toward him, keeping himself between Lazarus and the safety of the tower behind him. On the other side of the corridor, leading into the enclosed lobby, was L.O.S.T., waiting with enough firepower to destroy ten vampires.

“Will you force me to stay here? We’ ll both burn,” Lazarus hissed even as he eyed the deepening rays of sunlight.

“Yes, we will.”

“You cannot match my strength, Marcus.”

“Then why am I still alive?” Marcus taunted.

“For the same reason I am. We are equals. You cannot kill me, nor I you.”

A sharp ray of the rising sun caught an angle of glass. It beamed in on Lazarus’s face, and he flinched. Marcus smiled and dove at him. Crashing through the glass wall, they rolled into a small courtyard beyond. They struggled for control of each other. They were evenly matched, but Marcus had an edge Lazarus didn’ t. Love. He’d die to save the woman the loved.

The struggle raged on. Just when Marcus gained the upper hand, Lazarus would twist out of his grip and turn the tables. Finally, Marcus pinned Lazarus to the ground, then swiftly flipped them both over as the sun rose higher.

Like an octopus, he wrapped his legs around Lazarus and restrained him from moving. Lazarus arched his back for separation, but Marcus narrowed his wrapped arms around his upper body and held his maker in a death grip. Now Marcus knew he had the advantage.

“Equal in strength, superior in mind,” he whispered into Lazarus’s ear. Marcus looked up and closed his eyes. The warmth of the dawning sun was all around him, and he could feel it. He could feel it like no time before, and it reminded him of his life before darkness. How he longed for that life again, except this time with Jax. But he would never have it.

Lazarus continued to struggle for his very existence. “You cannot escape me,” Marcus said. “We will die together, Colonel. The maker and his creation.”

“Marcus,” Lazarus pleaded. “I will let her live! I will give you your mortality!”

“And then you will find a way to destroy us both.”

Lazarus’s struggles began to subside. His strength was waning in the morning sun. His flesh began to simmer, and he knew the end was near.

“Save us, my son!” Lazarus pleaded. “Now, before we are both ashes! You owe me your life!”

Like a constrictor, Marcus tightened his arms and legs around him.

Lazarus was beginning to really cook. He let out a small sound that steadily grew into an agonizing shrill. Marcus could feel the heat against himself. The stench of burning flesh assaulted his senses. It hissed and popped. He pulled his arms tighter around Lazarus and tucked his hands under his forearms for protection. He needed to hold on until it was finished. Lazarus stopping moving. A frozen prisoner to the sun. In a moment, he would combust into ash, and then Marcus would suffer the same fate.

Marcus.

The sweet tone of Jax’s voice filled his ears. His end was near, yet he smiled.

“Marcus!” He opened his eyes to find Jax standing above him. His hands momentarily loosened, and Lazarus slid off. Blindly his nemesis reached toward the safety of the corridor, but his legs would not move. Jax turned from Marcus, reached into her jacket, and withdrew a silver scythe.

Lazarus looked up at her, his eyes aflame. He had reclaimed his original form as the Viking Thorkeel Rus. “Kill me and you will be hunted by my maker and destroyed.”

“He’ ll have to catch me first, you son of a bitch,” she sneered. She raised her scythe. As she brought it down, she cried, “This is for Shane!”

His head did not separate from his body. She brought the other one down and cried, “And this is for Marcus!”

Lazarus’s head rolled from his body. He immediately burst into flames.

As Marcus watched his maker’s death, he squeezed his eyes, fighting back the fire on his skin. His body quaked as it succumbed to the sunlight. Nausea overcame him. He struggled to reach out to Jax.

“Jax,” he whispered, his strength nearly gone now. “You live.”

Marcus smiled even as Jax cried out to him, “Marcus! You’ re burning!” She covered him with her body and screamed toward the corridor. “Someone bring me a blanket. Help me get him out of here!”

No one moved.

“Help me!” she pleaded.

Frantically, she pulled off her jacket and covered Marcus’s face, then grabbed his hands and pulled him across the grass. But her strength was not what it had been. Her body had sustained damage. He tried to push at the earth with his heels to help her, but his strength was gone. She slipped on the wet grass. His heartbeat slowed, his eyes closed, his chest burned.

The sun was too much for him. Marcus felt himself being carried off to a dark, comfortable place. The last thing he remembered was Jax’s hysterical screams. Then he heard nothing. He felt nothing.

He was . . . nothing.

Jax watched in horror and disbelief as what she could only describe as a demonic-looking angel emerged from the trees and landed beside Marcus. He was big. Long black hair swirled about his wide shoulders. A black tattoo she could not decipher crept up from beneath his black shirt, twisting around his neck to his jaw. Full red lips twisted in anger, and his furious red eyes looked as if they would spout fire. He was magnificently terrifying. He glanced at the burn spot where Lazarus had been, then he reached out and effortlessly took Marcus from her. She grabbed at Marcus, unwilling to let him go. “No! He belongs with me!” she challenged.

“He belongs to me,” the dark one thundered. He took Marcus into his long, muscled arms. He looked up and, as enigmatically as he had descended, he rose with Marcus, disappearing into the morning sunlight.

Jax watched Marcus become one with the clouds as tears blurred her vision. Anguish twisted her heart.

He was gone! Sobs wracked her. Gage tried to console her. She shook him off and stood. “Don’ t,” she said. She looked to the corridor and saw Godfather, Dante and the rest of her team watch her with a mixture of admiration, awe and compassion. She strode toward them and stopped several feet away. Emotion so painful that it felt like a knife in her chest made it hard for her to breathe. “You let him die! He saved my life and you let him die!”

She would never forgive them. She turned away from them all and started to walk.