The Savior

Gerry’s hiring deal, for example, had been far richer than her own.

Then again, his employment had also put him in his grave.

“Oh, Gerry …”

Picking up her cell phone, she checked the time. Out on the West Coast, it was four in the afternoon still.

She went through her contacts, found the number for Lorenzo Taft-Margulies and hit send. The man picked up on the third ring, just as she was beginning to construct the message she was going to leave on his voicemail in her head.

“Enzo, it’s Sarah Wa—hi. Yup, it’s me. What?” She pulled another chair around with her foot and stretched both legs out, crossing them at the ankles. “Oh, God, I know, right? Who could have seen it coming? Me? No, I mean, I was never that high up in things at BioMed. Just a humble researcher, no one that Kraiten would have much to do with—and as my dad used to say, sometimes you luck out.”

They chatted a little bit more about the BioMed drama. And then she said, “So listen, Enzo, about the job interview. I am so flattered and I really thought about it—yes, I’m afraid it’s a no. Yes, I’m aware I have no job at the moment.” She smiled at her friend’s joke. “But I’ve been working straight through since grad school, and while I realize that was the plan, I just need a break. Where? I don’t know. I could stick in New England or I might look into something totally new. Teaching at the college level. Maybe an even bigger change. I guess I just want to get off the hamster wheel and see how I feel.”

“Sarah,” the voice on the other end said. “You’re on the cusp of a major career. I know that hamster wheel is hard, but if you leave now, you may never get back to where you are. You have greatness ahead of you. I’ve always seen it in you.”

Sarah blinked. “You’re kind to say that.”

“I’m not being kind here. Don’t throw away everything you’ve worked for.”

After some further back and forth, they changed the subject by mutual agreement and Enzo returned to being his usual self, supportive but gently needling—and when it came time to end the call, she promised to look him up if she changed her mind.

Pondering what the man had said, she wondered how much of it was hyperbole … and how much of it was a truth she had never recognized about herself. Enzo had always been a straight shooter. He was ten years older than she and Gerry, but a fellow Harvard/MIT program alum in Sarah’s field, which was how she’d gotten to know him. He’d been impressed with Gerry—God knew everyone had been—but he’d been more interested in Sarah.

Just professionally, that was. And she could remember being flattered that he’d pursued her for work. It had been a nice change from being in Gerry’s shadow. Not that she’d ever resented Gerry back then.

No, the resentment had come later. And not because they’d been competing for jobs or notoriety.

Was Enzo right? Was she letting everything go if she took time off? She had spent a lot of time downplaying her accomplishments—because she hadn’t been on Gerry’s level. But maybe that was more her own insecurities, as opposed to an accurate assessment of her professional standings.

Getting up, she rinsed the plate she’d eaten dinner on and put in it in the dishwasher. Nothing else to clean up because she’d had one of those Lean Cuisines out of the freezer. So actually, she could have just put her plate back in the cupboard because it had functioned more like a china tray for the plastic tray she’d put in the microwave.

Heading for the living room, she debated binge-watching something, but she’d never been all that into TV and had no frame of reference for the shows people were talking about now. Ozark. Supernatural. Making of a Murderer 2. And what the hell was a podcast, anyway?

Sure, falling into the vampire world had been a shocker, but like she knew much about the human one she supposedly lived in?

At university, she had studied all the time. And after her degree, during her employment at BioMed, she had worked all the time. And then Gerry had died. So she’d worked even more than all the time.

Yes, that was possible.

There had to be another way for her. And there was certainly going to be a different place to live.

She’d already mourned the loss of one man in this house.

She was not going to do that here again.

 

“Does everyone understand their positions?” Tohr asked the brothers as everyone gathered in the mansion’s grand foyer. “Is everyone clear?”

He was aware of a sense of foreboding creeping up the back of his neck and he rubbed his nape, trying to convince himself that he’d just slept funny.

“Actually, I’m confused.” Rhage bit down on a cherry Tootsie Pop. “Am I devastatingly handsome tonight facing here to the left.” He shifted to the other side. “Or the right? Left … right. Left. Right—”

“I’m going to break his nose,” Vishous said. “I swear to God, I am going to bust his fucking septum just so we can stop this conversation.”

“I think left and right,” Rhage announced. “I think there are no bad angles.”

“You sure about that, Barbra Streisand?” someone called out.

The voices of the Brotherhood filled the space as much as their huge, leather-clad bodies did, and Tohr let them all go with the verbal jabbing. It was typical nervous energy bubbling around, and he knew better than to try to quell the chatter.

Instead, he went over to his half brother. Xcor was still as a statue, his face too composed. His body too tense.

“How you doing?” Tohr asked quietly, making sure his back was to the group so no one overheard them. But like they all didn’t know what the male was facing tonight?

Xcor kept his voice down, too. “Just so you know, I will kill Throe myself if he’s going after the throne. I will not hesitate. I know where my allegiance lies.”

Tohr put his hand on the male’s shoulder. “I never doubt it, brother mine. Ever.”

Xcor’s eyes shined out of his brutal, harelipped face, and, not for the first time, Tohr was glad that the fighter was on their side. Xcor was formidable on a good day. A night like tonight? He was beyond deadly.

And what do you know, they had another thing going for them. Wrath was not heading down to the Audience House. Thank God. In a rare change of habit, the King had actually listened to reason. He was staying put here at the mansion, with Phury and Z on guard along with Payne. Rehvenge, with all his tricks as a symphath, was also hanging in for the night. Just in a case.

And symphaths had special weapons.

As Murhder had learned firsthand, Tohr thought with regret.

“Okay, let’s do this,” he said as he headed for the grand door.

Pushing his way through the vestibule, he was aware that a piece was missing. But Murhder was free to make his own decisions, and at least John was back and ready to fight—

Tohr stopped short without any warning, and John, who was right behind him, slammed into him, bumping his body out over the threshold.

A tall, powerful figure stood on the stone steps in the wind, unmoving in spite of the gusts that rushed the top of the mountain. Feet planted, hands down, head up, the male was prepared for what he had been bred to do.

Fight in defense of the species.

Tohr started to smile as he resumed walking forward. “You have a change of a heart, then?”