It wasn’t all right, of course. But in fairness, Sloane had known she was asking Mac to lie.

All things considered, it could have been a lot worse. Declan had vanished again. Mac was trying to figure out where he was, both he and Aidan were convinced the vampire had not left the island and Aidan was furious at what he considered a lapse in Mac’s duty to her. For Mac’s part, he kept insisting it was ‘nae possible’ for anyone to hide from him on Manx. He was sure magic was involved.

For her part, Sloane was still avoiding facing exactly what, or who, Mac was. The Celtic gods were real, and she was pretty sure her lover was one. It was all too mad to absorb completely. Her stories had always been real, in substance, if not in exact detail. Vampires were not only real, but her dad was one.

Thankfully, Aidan’s place in her life was by far the easiest thing to accept in this whole surreal mess. His joy was almost frightening at times, when he’d look at her with so much love and disbelief it was humbling.

She’d moved into the house by Bride, even though for once both Aidan and Mac had been in utter agreement on their distaste for the idea. Neither of them wanted her out here alone.

So she hadn’t been alone. Not for one damn second in the past week.

From sunrise to sunset, Mac was with her, helping to work on the house, though they hadn’t had sex since that night in his bedroom for a multitude of reasons.

For one, from sundown to sunrise, Aidan and Heather watched her. Sometimes both, sometimes one or the other. She understood the why of that. It was because they needed to hunt. Sloane had spent many hours grilling Heather about all aspects of being a vampire.

Aidan wouldn’t broach that subject at all, but her father had other stories to share, ones about a childhood she remembered with growing clarity but never become quite ‘real.’ Mac said it was probably best, that remembering too much of her first life would not be good for her.

He didn’t seem to mind Aidan’s stories when he heard them, though. She caught him listening sometimes, a smile on his face. With a start, she realized some of those vague memories she had being having included Mac. Drawing pictures in the sand for her. Making the waves dance as she laughed and tried to ‘pet’ them.

She didn’t tell Aidan about those memories, though. Somehow she doubted he would approve.

While he and Mac seemed to have come to a sort of wary truce, she didn’t want to do anything to break it.

She wasn’t allowed to tell Jenny anything. She hadn’t even seen her friend once in the past week. It was hard, but she understood. Knowing this stuff was heady, but incredibly difficult. Heather had been right; it could definitely break you if you weren’t careful.

Jenny was the reason she and Mac were headed into Peel at the moment. Gery had called, letting Sloane know in no uncertain terms she needed to make an intervention. “She thinks ye’re bloody well being a stuck-up bitch, but I know she’s hurt, Sloane. What the feck is going on? Ye two need to talk.”

But when they got to Gery’s house, she wasn’t there. He stood in the doorway, looking anxious. “She took off when I told her ye were coming up today. I do not know where she went, been looking fer hours. She musta taken the damn bus, or maybe the rail.”

Feeling anxious, Mac and her drove back to Ramsey. The sun was starting to go down by the time they made their way to the flat. Mac had put the Rover in park when he stiffened suddenly.

His hands tightened on the wheel.

“Mac!” Sloane reached for him, but he shook his head violently.

“Doona touch me.”

She jumped at the fierce command in the words. With an effort, he moderated his tone, even as his body started to shake. “Ye’ll be pulled in along with me. It’s Lugh, a royal summons.” He gritted his teeth. “I canna fight it. Call Aidan. Now.”

She fumbled for her phone. When she looked up, Mac had already vanished.

Her mouth fell open as the phone dropped from her nerveless fingers. It took a few minutes, but she pulled herself together, or at least tried to. Call Aidan. Yes. But the phone had fallen far under the seats and she couldn’t reach it no matter how hard she twisted.

Swearing, Sloane opened the door. Getting out, she bent over to peer under the seats.

“Slo.” Her head snapped up, bashing painfully into the dash. She barely registered the shock of pain, happy and relieved to hear that familiar voice.

“Jenny. Thank Christ.” Stepping away from the Rover, she looked around anxiously. It was startling how dark it had gotten already. Shadows filled the winding street. Jenny was nowhere in sight.

Frowning, Sloane called out again, only to have the sound freeze in her throat.

A shadow had pulled away from all the others. A shadow with gleaming teeth and blood-tinged eyes.

A shadow holding Jenny in one long, dark arm.

“You!”

The vampire Declan didn’t say a word, only bent his head with a cruel smile. He didn’t bite Jenny’s throat so much as tear at it, more animal than man. His bright, glowing eyes mocked her all the while. She stood there, frozen, paralyzed with horror until Declan pulled his lips away from Jenny’s skin, licking his lips like a cat that’s been at a bowl of cream.

“Now, I really don’t want her.” Declan shook Jenny’s limp body once. “But if you insist…” His head lowered again.

“No,” she pleaded. “Please don’t hurt her anymore.”

The vampire extended one hand, still holding Jenny around the waist. “Come to me, and I won’t.”

“Let her go inside first.” She knew from all Heather had told her vampires couldn’t enter a private dwelling without permission. No way in hell had Jenny invited him into the flat. He must have grabbed her straight off the bus.

Declan’s lips twisted. “Clever girl. All right then, open the damn door. But”—he lifted one long finger, wagging it back and forth—“you so much as twitch like you’re going to run inside and this one dies.” He shook Jenny again, the gorge rising in Sloane’s throat as her friend’s blood splattered onto the cobblestones. “I rip her goddamn head off right here and now. Understand?”

She nodded, moving numbly to the door. With the vampire’s unsettling eyes watching her every move, Sloane reached out and touched the knob, turning it carefully with just the tips of her fingers. She pushed it open, then moved back hastily.

“There.”

With a grin, the vampire tossed Jenny at the threshold like a bag of trash. Sloane winced as she heard the crumpled thump. Jenny was as safe as she could make her for the moment. Sloane only waited long enough to see that every part of her friend’s body was within the flat before she turned and sprinted away.

Not toward the door as Declan had obviously expected, but for the beach two blocks away.

“Little lying bitch.” The vampire’s words sounded more amused than angry as he turned to follow her. Obviously he was in no rush, confident of his ability to capture her.

And Sloane knew why. Aidan and Heather had taken pains not to alarm her with their preternatural powers, but it was impossible not to pick up on it. The flash of an arm, like a film on high speed. A casual wave of a hand that dented dry wall or cracked wood.

She had no chance to beat this monster. That didn’t mean she wasn’t going to try. The beach was eerily deserted when she rounded the corner, the vampire’s chuckles behind her, making the back of her neck prickle icily.

Sloane didn’t head down the beach. Instead, she headed straight into the sea, some instinct screaming if she could reach the water she would be safe, but Declan had grown bored with the chase. He caught her before the receding tide was able to splash her toes. Spinning her around by her waist, round and round, faster and faster until she felt like she was going to be sick. He laughed lightly when she fell to her knees in the sand, crawling toward the water yet again.

“Mac!” she screamed.

Her voice echoed out over the rolling waves as Declan’s cold fingers closed around her wrist. Deliberately, he yanked her arm up and back, pulling at muscle and bone until Sloane couldn’t help but scream. Higher and higher, he twisted until the pain made the night fade away like she was back in the storm-tossed sea of Mac’s bedroom. Only instead of beauty in the dark, this time there was agony and the smell of blood and fear.

Then came an onimous crack. Everything went blessedly black as Sloane pitched forward, face-first into the sand as mist started to swirl off the waves.

“Settle down.” Lugh replaced the bell in his hands, watching Mac stomp back and forth. “What’s got you in such a right state?”

He couldn’t tell the king what might or might not be happening in the world above. Couldn’t risk showing Lugh more of his hand than was absolutely nessasary. “I doona appreciate being summoned like a damme servant. Ye coulda just sent a message.” Mac forced himself to stop pacing, but his muscles still twitched uneasily. Was Sloane all right? Surely she’d gotten ahold of Aidan by now. It couldn’t take more than ten minutes for him to get to her, no matter where he was on the island. Of course, the same could be said for Declan, if the monster was truly hiding on Manx…

“Mac?”

Belatedly, he realized his king had been talking for some time. “Aye, what was tha’?”

Lugh raised an eyebrow. “I have sent messages, several times. There has been no reply from Avalon.” Blue eyes glinted and Mac cursed internally.

Caught. He was caught and they both knew it. He shrugged anyway. “I have no’ been home in a while.”

“Ever since Aidan’s daughter returned to Manx, it appears.” Lugh watched him closely. “We are curious about this girl who has you neglecting your duties, Mac.”

Mac stared at the man lounging on the throne. “I’ve never known ye to employ the royal ‘we.’ Getting pompous in yer old age?”

Lugh laughed. “My old age?” He straightened, running a hand over his jaw. “If I am old, where does tha’ leave you?”

“Wiser than the like of an upstart like yerself,” Mac grumbled.

“Not so long ago, I would’ve agreed.” Lugh’s eyes narrowed. “Tell me about her. Aidan’s daughter.”