Darkness Dawns

Chapter 8

Sarah stared at Roland as he forked a piece of eggplant into his mouth and chewed. “Seven thousand?”

He nodded and took a drink of tea.

“And the rest of us only have forty-six.”

“Yes.”

“All of us.”

“Yes.”

“You have seven thousand.”

He ate another piece of eggplant.

“How is that possible?”

“We don’t know.”

Her mind raced as she savored the delicious meal. There didn’t seem to be that many explanations.

“I feel a little weird asking this,” she said hesitantly, “but is it possible you guys are aliens?”

“As in extraterrestrials?”

“Yes.”

“Some have suggested as much, that perhaps we are the descendants of aliens who either crashed or came to Earth, seeking a new home.”

Wow. “You sound like you don’t believe that’s the case.”

He shrugged. “It just seems like we’d know if such were true. Wouldn’t the aliens have wanted their children and future generations to know why they’re different, what planet their ancestors came from? Wouldn’t they have told them and passed the story down from generation to generation?”

“I would have.”

“Other immortals hypothesize that there have always been two species of humans living on Earth. Those who believe in evolution ask why humans would not evolve into separate species. Animals certainly have.”

“And creationists?”

“Creationists point out that, in the Bible, when Cain slew Abel and was banished, he went to live in the land of Nod and was marked by God so those he met there would not kill him as punishment for murdering his brother. There was no information given regarding the inhabitants of Nod. Until then, the only humans mentioned were Adam and Eve and their children. But clearly there were others on the planet. Some speculate that those were the gifted ones.”

Sarah had only read the Bible from cover to cover once and tried to remember Cain’s fate. “You’re right. There were other people. I had forgotten that.”

“Who we are is anybody’s guess,” he went on. “Alien race? Separate species? Either would explain why our gifts have lessened over the centuries, why younger immortals have fewer gifts than older ones. The bloodline has been diluted over the millennia as a result of procreating with humans, the gifts weakened. Some, we know, have been lost altogether.”

“What about the older immortals? Who is the eldest amongst you?”

“That would be Seth.”

“Doesn’t he know why you’re different?”

He hesitated. His gaze slid toward the guest room, making her wonder if perhaps he was debating telling her something he didn’t want Marcus to hear. “He refuses to speculate.”

“I sense a but in there.”

He smiled faintly. “But he knows. He confessed as much to me when I was … at a particularly low point in my existence and questioned him on the subject. I think he didn’t want to add to my disappointment.”

She couldn’t help but wonder what that low point was. “What did he say?”

“That revealing the truth inevitably leads to a great deal of bloodshed, so he has resolved to keep his counsel.”

She frowned. That not only sucked, it raised more questions.

“I don’t imagine he will change his mind after so many millennia, so I doubt we’ll ever learn the truth.”

Sarah rested her hand on his muscular forearm. “I’m sorry, Roland. I hope he does change his mind. I can tell it troubles you.”

He covered her hand with his own. “Thank you.” His thumb caressed her knuckles, speeding her pulse.

When she dampened her lips, his gaze dropped to follow the delicate swipe of her tongue. His grip on her hand tightened.

He leaned forward.

She held her breath.

“I take it I missed dinner?” A voice spoke from the dining room’s entrance.

Sarah and Roland sprang apart.

Marcus, clean but clad in his dirty clothes, raised one ebony eyebrow.

Roland cleared his throat. “I thought you were sleeping.”

Marcus nodded to their empty plates. “Got any more of that?”

“In the oven. Still warm.”

“Thanks.”

Marcus headed into the kitchen.

From his position at the table, Roland could see him opening and closing cabinets and drawers in search of plates, flatware, and a glass.

Her back to the kitchen, Sarah turned her gaze to the table-top near him.

Roland glanced down to see if he had spilled something and saw nothing amiss. “What is it?”

Surprising him, she took the hand that had just been stroking her own and studied the mottled dark pink scars that marred it. There were two: one where the spike had entered and another where it had exited.

As she drew the fingers of her free hand gently across his skin, a sensual tingle raced up his arm. He could not seem to get enough of her touch, no matter how casual or innocent.

“I can’t believe how quickly you heal.”

“All immortals do after the transformation. But I was like this before, when I was human. It’s part of the gifts I was born with.”

From the corner of his eye, he saw Marcus open the refrigerator door, extract a bag of blood from the meat compartment, and close it again. The bag rattled faintly when he lifted it to his lips and sank his fangs into it.

Roland sent Marcus a scowl, not wanting him to feed in front of Sarah. (Vampirism was easier to accept when the more unpleasant aspects of it weren’t tossed in one’s face at every turn.)

Marcus shrugged.

Sarah gripped Roland’s hand more firmly. Though her eyes were wide when they met his, indicating she had guessed what Marcus was doing, she didn’t turn around to look.

“Is he drinking blood?” she whispered.

“Yes.”

“Out of a bag?”

“Yes.” Her expression lent him no hint of her thoughts.

“How do you feel about that?”

Even Marcus contemplated her curiously now, awaiting her response.

“I don’t know. Does blood taste as gross as I think it does?”

He fought a smile. “Do you remember what I told you about its scent?”

She nodded. “You said it smelled as good to you as chocolate does to me.”

“The same holds true for the taste. Immortals and vampires find it very appealing.”

“Hmm.”

Marcus tossed the empty bag into the trash. After filling his plate, he carried it, the utensils, and his glass into the dining room and sat across from Sarah.

“You don’t think we’re damned for drinking blood?” he asked dryly.

They had heard whispers and shouts of such from humans all of their existences.

She appeared to ponder it for a moment. “There are a lot of commandments regarding diet in the Bible. Not drinking blood is just one of them. So if you two are damned for drinking blood, then anyone who eats rabbit, pork, meat with blood in it, shellfish, things that swarm, and birds of prey or scavenger birds is damned, too. And those are just the restrictions I can remember off the top of my head.”

It was a surprisingly logical and pragmatic approach to take.

Marcus raised his eyebrows. “Do you eat any of those foods?”

She wrinkled her nose. “No. If you ask me, that crap just isn’t healthy, which is probably why it was banned in the first place. Pigs eat their own feces and tend to carry more diseases and parasites. Rabbits eat their own feces, too, so—yuck. Shellfish are the vacuum cleaners of the ocean and can accumulate high levels of toxins. No thanks. Scavenger birds eat roadkill. Again, yuck. And I’ve personally never seen the appeal of eating things like chocolate-covered ants or roaches.”

Roland laughed. “Neither have I. What about meat with blood in it?”

“As far as I know I don’t. I don’t eat red meat, so no rare bloody steaks. And any fowl I prepare is organic and either boiled or baked until the meat is so tender it falls off the bone. I assume any blood there might be in it would be cooked away.”

“Well, technically speaking, we don’t drink the blood,” Roland said. “Our goal is to get it into our circulatory system, not our digestive tract. So our fangs behave like IV needles, drawing the blood in and carrying it directly to our veins.”

Sarah pursed her lips. “But you do swallow some.”

Marcus nodded. “There’s always a drop or two of overflow.”

“And you like the taste of it?”

“Yes,” they answered.

Again she wrinkled her nose. “Weird.”

Both men laughed.

As Marcus went back to eating, Roland wondered how long it would take Sarah to realize she was still holding his hand. (He hoped a long time.) “What did Lisette say when you talked to her?”

“That all vampires appear to have fled Raleigh. She hasn’t so much as caught a glimpse of one in the last two nights.”

“That’s because they were all too busy attacking me,” Roland said. “Or rather us.”

Marcus nodded, chewed, swallowed. “She said she would be more than happy to come join the fun if we need her.”

Roland considered it. If the attacks continued to escalate, they could use the backup. However, killing him was not the vampires’ sole motive. They wanted to get their hands on an immortal for undoubtedly unsavory purposes, and he would never forgive himself if the French Immortal Guardian were captured.

“Let’s hold off on that, shall we? I don’t want to risk her falling into the vampires’ clutches.”

“I agree.”

* * *

As the men discussed the other woman in fond, protective tones, Sarah became aware of a semi-seething emotion infiltrating her that she eventually identified as jealousy.

“Who is Lisette?”

Roland answered, “She’s the Immortal Guardian stationed in Raleigh.”

“Do you know her well?” Jeeze, don’t beat around the bush.

“No, we’ve only run into each other a few times over the centuries.”

Marcus grinned. “He’s antisocial.” While Roland shot him a glare, Marcus filled his fork again and started to raise it to his mouth. Pausing with it halfway there, he turned to Roland, looking puzzled. “Do you have a dog?”

Roland released a long-suffering sigh. “No.”

Lowering his fork, Marcus looked into the kitchen.

Sarah turned to follow his gaze and saw nothing. Was he staring at the door on the opposite side?

“What the hell is that?” Marcus went on. “It sounds like a wolf or coyote howling, but not really.”

Sarah didn’t realize she was still holding his hand until Roland gently withdrew it, pushed back his chair, and rose. “It’s Nietzsche, my cat. He howls like a dog whenever he’s about to pick a fight with something.”

Marcus frowned. “Nietzsche? Didn’t you have a cat named Nietzsche, like, forty years ago?”

Roland shrugged. “I like the name.” As he walked past Sarah, he briefly rested his hand on her shoulder. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

Her pulse gave a little leap. “Okay.”

Lips tilting up in that handsome smile of his, he strode through the kitchen and opened the door. Beyond she saw a room the size of her bedroom that seemed to be a mud room/laundry room and boasted two doors.

Roland headed through it without turning the lights on, bypassed the door that she assumed led to a garage, unlocked and opened the back door, slipped outside, then closed it behind him.

Silence fell in his absence.

Sarah turned around and found Marcus staring at her thoughtfully.

She gave him a tentative smile.

As though it was a sign he had been waiting for, he set his utensils down, leaned forward, and braced his forearms on the table. “It appears a window of opportunity has opened before me, Sarah, and I’ve decided I’m going to take it.”

“Um, okay.”

“While Roland is busy cursing his cat and trying to talk it out of rumbling with an apparently rotund raccoon, he’ll be too distracted to listen to our conversation.”

“You aren’t going to ask me out, are you?”

He smiled. “No, I can see that Roland has already snared your interest, just as you have snared his. Anyone with eyes can see the affection growing between you.”

“We’ve only known each other for a day,” Sarah protested weakly. He was right, though … at least on her end of it. Roland definitely made her heart go pitter-patter and she liked him more with every minute she spent in his company.

Marcus shrugged. “It happens that way sometimes. And since it appears to be happening that way for the two of you, I thought you should know a couple of things.”

“Okay.” She really didn’t know what else to say.

“The first is that Roland has serious trust issues.”

She smiled. “I already knew that one.” It didn’t take a genius to recognize Roland’s lack of faith in others.

“The fact that he has welcomed you into his home speaks volumes.”

“Not really. I didn’t exactly give him a choice.”

“Believe me. He had a choice. He could have easily pawned you off on me or Lisette or sent you to one of the safe houses our human colleagues maintain if he didn’t want you here.”

Hmm. That was thought-provoking.

“I razz Roland about his inherent distrust,” Marcus continued earnestly, “but the truth is it has tragic origins. I won’t go into details. Suffice it to say he has been royally fucked over not once, not twice, but three times by people he loved and trusted above all others. And each betrayal nearly cost him his life.”

Had Mary the twit been one of those who had betrayed him? Sarah wondered.

“I wasn’t there for the first two, but I had a front-row seat for the third.” He shook his head, regret crowding his features. “Which is why, after eight centuries of friendship, I try not to let it bother me that a part of him still secretly expects me to turn on him and stab him in the back.”

Roland didn’t trust Marcus after eight centuries of friendship?

Maybe his trust issues went deeper than she had thought.

“Anyway, I said all that to say this, my second point: You seem like a very nice woman. You’re smart and attractive and are handling all of this exceedingly well.”

She had fled into the forest, thinking them monsters. That was handling this well? “What exactly are you trying to say, Marcus?”

“Simply this. I don’t know if you’re planning to leave at the earliest opportunity or linger to help us sort this out. Whether you’re going to keep things casual between you and Roland or will try to break past his barriers and pursue a relationship with him.”

Sarah stared at him in disbelief. “Are you asking me what my intentions are?”

He snorted. “Roland would be mortified were I to do anything so horrific. No, I merely thought it pertinent to mention that I consider myself to be an easygoing guy. However—and I cannot stress this enough—should you unwisely choose to betray Roland, I will not hesitate to kill you.”

There was nothing easygoing in his expression when he said it. Sarah didn’t doubt for a minute he would carry through on his threat.

“I have no intention of betraying him.”

He smiled and picked up his fork. “We’re good then.” Once more the genial fellow, he tucked into the remainder of his meal.

“You know,” she said slowly, “I realize you’re only looking out for him, but if you’ve given that warning to every woman he’s had dinner with, you’ve probably made him miss out on a lot of second dates.”

He shook his head. “You’re the first woman he’s shown this much interest in in centuries.”

“I am?”

“Yes, and he would be equally mortified to know I’d told you that, so …”

“Mum’s the word.”

“Thank you.”

A faint yowling met her ears.

Sarah rehashed Marcus’s words. “Was one of the people who betrayed him Mary?”

“Yes.” He drank several swallows of tea.

She would have questioned him further had he not placed a finger to his lips and looked pointedly at the back door.

Sarah swiveled in her seat, waiting.

A low howling that really did sound like a wolf filtered in, accompanied by the rumble of Roland’s voice.

The door swung inward and Roland entered, carrying a gray tabby that looked like it wasn’t yet full grown. The fur on its striped and speckled back was bristling as it licked its lips repeatedly. One last howl escaped it before Roland closed the door, locked it, and set his burden gently on the floor.

“Was it a raccoon?” Sarah asked and smiled when he rolled his eyes.

“The biggest damned raccoon I’ve ever seen. I’m fairly certain it was rabid, but did that deter him? No.”

The cocky little cat trotted into the kitchen ahead of him, then stopped short when he saw her and Marcus, nearly tripping Roland.

“Damn it, Nietzsche.”

Laughing, Sarah made kissy noises to draw him nearer. Nietzsche regarded her uncertainly and slunk closer to Roland.

“He isn’t used to strangers,” Roland said apologetically. “He’ll warm up to you once his belly is full and his insatiable curiosity kicks in.” Reaching up, he pulled a combination food and water dish down off the top of the refrigerator.

Sarah gathered her dirty dishes, stacked Roland’s on top of them, and carried them to the sink as Roland filled one bowl with water and the other with canned food that smelled very strongly of what could only be liver. After peeling off the label, he rinsed the can out and dropped it in a recycle bin hidden inside one of the lower cabinets.

Marcus followed and added his dishes to the pile in the sink. “I didn’t ask earlier. Is it okay if I stay the night, or do you want me to hit the road?”

Roland bent to put the dish on the floor. “Stay. We’ll give you a ride home tomorrow night.”

We.

“Thanks, man.”

Sarah smiled when Nietzsche began to hungrily devour his stinky meal.

Roland patted his striped head, then straightened and looked at Marcus. “How’s the knee?”

“Hurts like hell. I think I’m going to call it a night.”

Sarah and Roland bade him goodnight, then turned their attention to the dirty dishes.

“I’ll take care of this,” Roland said right about the time she realized he didn’t have a dishwasher and would be doing them by hand. “Why don’t you go relax in the living room? It’s been a long, difficult day.”

“Long day” was an understatement. It felt like insomnia had shoved her out of bed and driven her to go out and start digging a veggie garden weeks ago, not this morning.

And difficult?

Yes, parts of it had been scary as hell. Several parts, in fact. But she had really enjoyed the quieter times she had spent with Roland today … when it had been just the two of them, chatting and getting to know each other without the immortal revelations and vampires-trying-to-kill-you stuff interfering.

She wouldn’t mind recapturing some of that and maybe learning more about him.

“That’s okay. I’d rather be in here with you.”

She smiled when he looked at her with Why the hell would you want to be with me? stamped across his forehead and reached for a green and yellow sponge.

The man truly didn’t know his own appeal.

Normally, doing the dishes was one of the most tedious tasks Sarah performed each day. (Her little house didn’t have a dishwasher because there simply wasn’t room.) But, standing side by side with Roland, her shoulder touching his arm, their fingers brushing each time he handed her a soapy dish to rinse and place in the drainer, she had to admit it could be fun.

Roland was quiet at first, almost shy, making her wonder just how isolated a life he had led. Seth and Marcus had both nagged him about being reclusive. Was she really the only guest he had willingly brought here? Did he have no friends with whom he could kick back and relax?

Sarah suspected the answer was no and didn’t think there had been a great deal of happiness in his long life. Whenever she made him laugh, it emerged as that sort of rusty chuckle as though he had almost forgotten how to do it.

“Thank you for letting me stay with you, Roland.”

“You’re welcome.” He met her gaze from the corner of his eye and sent her a faint smile. “Much more welcome than Marcus.”

She grinned.

Electricity skittered up her arm when he placed a couple of sudsy forks in her hand, his fingers stroking her palm as they withdrew.

“You seemed rather … emphatic in your refusal to stay with your family,” he mentioned cautiously.

“Yeah, I kinda got shafted in the family department.”

“How so?”

Sarah grimaced. “When my mother was eighteen, she had the not-very-original idea to get pregnant on purpose in order to trap her boyfriend into marrying her. Her boyfriend told her to kiss his ass, walked away without a backward glance, and nine months later my brother Jason was born. When she was twenty, she decided to try again with man number two, who hung in there for a few miserable months, then left before I was born. After that—though there were no more children, thank goodness—it was one man after another after another. Some were nice to me and Jason. Some were indifferent. Some were physically or verbally abusive. It didn’t exactly endear her to me.”

Roland’s face darkened. “I know this is a personal question, but did any of them …?”

“Abuse me sexually?”

He nodded.

“No.” Sarah accepted another fork from him. “Although there was one she started bringing home when I was thirteen …” She shuddered, remembering. “He had a way of looking at me that made my skin crawl. Mom dumped him fairly quickly.”

“Good.”

“She didn’t dump him because she was afraid he might hurt me. She dumped him because she was jealous. She accused me of intentionally trying to steal him away from her.”

Roland paused in his washing and stared down at her in apparent disbelief.

Sarah shrugged. “My mother is one of those women who refuses to grow up. When Jason and I were in high school, she wore my clothes, tried to act like a teenager, embarrassed the hell out of Jason if he brought a girl home, and hit on all of my dates. Not that there were many. I avoided dating completely once I realized she was going to try to seduce every boy who showed an interest in me.”

He grunted. “I’ve met a few of those over the centuries.”

“And as if that weren’t bad enough,” Sarah continued, “the woman couldn’t hold down a job for more than a year at a stretch. We were always short on money. And once Jason and I started working as teenagers, she decided mooching off of us was a lot easier than supporting us. She basically made our lives miserable. I couldn’t get out fast enough and moved away to college as soon as I graduated high school.”

“I don’t blame you. What about your brother?”

She sighed. “My brother became an alcoholic and beats his wife, who refuses to leave him. I cut ties with all of them a long time ago.”

Silently, he handed her a glass.

She gave him a guarded look. “Aren’t you going to tell me I’m a horrible person for turning my back on them?”

“No, I don’t buy into that you have to love them because you’re related to them tripe. Life is short. At least for you humans. Too short to waste on people who treat you badly and do nothing but make you miserable.”

The tension in her eased. “There don’t seem to be very many people out there who agree with that.”

“More than you might think.” He handed her another glass, his shoulder rubbing hers. Or rather his arm. She was about a foot shorter than him. “Besides, I know how much families can suck.”

She eyed him curiously. “Lousy parents?”

“Lousy brother,” he corrected, passing her the last glass, and grimly met her inquiring gaze. “My brother is the one who arranged for me to be captured by the vampire who transformed me.”

Shock ripped through Sarah as she stared up at him. She had assumed Roland had been the random victim of some vampire lost to madness and bloodlust, not gift-wrapped and handed over to one by a family member.

“How could he do that to you?” she whispered, appalled.

“Very easily, as it turned out. I trusted him implicitly.”

What a terrible betrayal. Marcus had told her Roland had been royally screwed over three times. This had to have been one of them.

“Did you ever find out why he did it?”

“I was the heir. He was the younger son. When my father died, I inherited the title, the lands, and all the wealth. I had everything Edward wanted.”

“But that’s how it was back then. I mean, it couldn’t have come as any surprise to him. And there were other ways he could have gained lands and money.”

“None so expedient as getting rid of me, however. I wasn’t the first heir to become the victim of a younger brother’s envy.” He shook his head. “He was good, I’ll give him that. Not once did he reveal his resentment in any way. He wasn’t distant or angry or bitter. He was a good friend to me. My closest friend. I trusted him more than any other and would probably have slain any man who questioned his honor.”

Wiping her wet hand on her jeans, Sarah touched his arm. “Some people are superlative actors, never showing those around them their true thoughts.”

“Edward could’ve won an Oscar. Even after I was captured, I thought him innocent. He was there when it happened. We were on our way to court when the vampire’s human minions attacked. I knew Edward couldn’t fight worth a damn, so I sent him fleeing into the forest while I cut down as many as I could. I was so glad he got away safely.”

Though he spoke softly, there was a wealth of anger and hurt in his words. His brother’s deceit had profoundly scarred him.

“It wasn’t until I escaped that I learned the truth.”

Sarah frowned. “If he wanted you dead, why did he have the vampire transform you?”

“He didn’t. He assumed the vampire would kill me and leave my corpse for the wolves. And the vampire would have, I’m sure, had I not been one of the gifted ones.”

“I don’t understand. Did that make the vampire change his mind?”

“No.” Roland handed her the last fork to rinse. “There are two ways humans and gifted ones can be transformed. The first, and most merciful, is for the vampire to drain them almost to the point of death, then infuse them with his blood until they are replenished. In this way, the virus invades the body in such numbers that the change is swift.”

When Sarah finished rinsing the fork and placed it in the drainer with the rest of the dinner dishes, the two of them took turns washing the soap off their hands and drying them on a clean hand towel.

“What’s the other way?”

“To feed from the human repeatedly. When a vampire or immortal drinks from a human, the human is exposed to the virus in trace amounts. Unless the human’s immune system has already been compromised—by HIV, for example—a single bite isn’t a problem. The immune system can fight it off in small quantities, but it takes a hit while doing so. Now, because this virus is so different, the body can’t produce memory B cells for it the way it can for the flu or the measles and—”

“What are memory B cells?”

“Memory B cells enable the immune system to easily recognize and swiftly defeat a virus the next time one is exposed to it. So if the human is bitten and the vampiric virus attacks again, without those memory B cells, the immune system doesn’t remember it, must start from scratch to fight it off again, and is weakened more. With repeated feedings, eventually the immune system is crippled enough that the virus destroys it completely and takes its place.”

“Does it … does the change hurt?”

“The first method isn’t that bad. I’ve heard it’s a bit like having the flu and is over in two or three days’ time. The second method, however, makes the human very ill. Dangerously high fevers. Delirium. Severe muscle and stomach cramps. Vomiting. Convulsions. The pain becomes so unbearable it makes one pray for death and, depending on how often the vampire drinks from you, can last anywhere from a few weeks to months.”

The expression on his face when he mentioned praying for death was so haunted. Sarah feared he was speaking from experience, not merely reciting symptoms he had observed in others. “Is that how it happened to you?”

Turning to face her, he leaned one hip against the counter. “Yes. After my capture, I was taken to an isolated castle that looked as if it had leapt from the pages of a gothic novel and was manacled to a wall in the dungeon. There were six others there, both men and women. Every night the vampire came down and fed from us. A different victim for each day of the week. We were his own personal blood bank, given just enough food and stagnant water to keep us alive.”

She couldn’t bear to think of him that way. Chained to a wall, suffering such torturous pain. “Did the others turn?”

“We all did in time. Because of the conditions in which we were kept, the madness that usually seeps into vampires slowly struck my cell mates almost immediately. When it did, the vampire killed them and replaced them with new victims. But I was a gifted one. My body didn’t react the same way theirs did. I didn’t become vampire. I became immortal, though I admit there were days I wished I could seek refuge in madness.”

“How long did it take?” she asked. How long had he suffered?

“Six months, give or take a week. Had he fed from me daily, it would have happened sooner. But my immune system had a week to recover between feedings and, because of my gifts, I healed swifter and more fully than the others.”

Six months.

“The rest continued to weaken after their transformation. They couldn’t seem to stomach food and had no blood to nourish them. I could still eat and naively thought that meant I could yet be saved. My senses sharpened. My body cramped, needing blood, but the other symptoms faded away. My strength returned, increasing until I was able to yank the chains that bound me straight out of the wall.”

“Did you kill the vampire?”

Slowly, he nodded. “I killed the vampire and his minions, set free those victims who were salvageable, put the others out of their misery, then razed the castle and went home, where I was ultimately forced to face the truth of my brother’s perfidy.”

Sarah didn’t know how he had survived it.

Well, she knew how he had survived it physically. The more advanced DNA he couldn’t explain. But how had he survived it mentally? Emotionally? He must have been clinging by a thread.

And then to find out his brother had engineered it all …

Curling her hand around his strong biceps, Sarah rose onto her toes and kissed his freshly shaven cheek.