Night Reigns

Chapter 11

As Ami and Marcus approached the front door of David’s sprawling home, her emotions vacillated between eagerness and anxiety.

A cacophony of voices—mostly male—spilled forth from inside and she cursed the fear that rose within her despite all attempts to quash it. No one in that house posed a threat to her. Most (if not all) would risk their lives to protect her. Even those who had never met her. Yet her hands shook. Her throat thickened. Her feet constantly threatened to turn and run in the opposite direction.

The dread she felt whenever she considered the impending meeting with Roy didn’t help. Minor mental pep talks wouldn’t suppress that either. With Roland by their sides and the French immortals on standby, what could they possibly come up against that they couldn’t conquer?

Another arrow of foreboding pierced her as soon as the thought formed.

A large, warm hand slipped into hers and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

Ami glanced up as Marcus twined his fingers through hers.

Their talk of premonitions earlier had thrown him. He had made a valiant effort not to show it, but she hadn’t missed it. And if something as simple as a little clairvoyance rattled him, how would he react to the source of that clairvoyance and her many other oddities?

“Don’t forget,” he murmured. “Seth, David, and Darnell are in there somewhere, too.”

At last, she found a smile. Anticipation dampened everything else. She hadn’t seen the three members of her surrogate family in a couple of weeks and had missed them.

Marcus punched a code into the keypad by the door, grasped the knob, gave it a twist, and pushed the door inward. Ami clung to Marcus’s hand as they stepped inside.

The house had an open floor plan that resembled Marcus’s on a larger scale. On her left, Chris Reordon and two other humans she assumed worked at the network slowly circumnavigated the long, stately dining room table, which she was surprised hadn’t buckled under the weight of the heaping mounds of food placed upon it. On her right, Étienne, Richart, and Lisette lounged on one of the three long sofas in the adjoining living room.

Theirs was a sad tale. Lisette had been transformed against her will by her husband, who had turned vampire. Her twin brothers, not understanding the nature of her illness, had tried to help her hide her condition by insisting she feed from them. Repeated exposure to the virus, however, had transformed both into immortals before Seth could find Lisette and prevent it. According to David and Seth, neither brother had ever expressed a hint of regret and wouldn’t hesitate to do the same again. Yet Lisette lived with constant guilt over infecting them. No amount of reassurance would soothe her, though Ami thought she concealed it well.

Lisette looked up, her face lighting with a smile. She gave Ami a friendly wave, then winked at Marcus.

A woman and two men—all human—stood near the immortals. Ami recognized the woman as Tracy, Lisette’s Second. The other two must be Étienne’s and Richart’s. Both men flirted shamelessly with the leggy blonde. One said something that made Tracy laugh and the younger man flush as red as his hair. Ami hazarded a guess that he was Sheldon.

Her eyes narrowed as she recalled the danger in which Sheldon had placed Marcus.

“Now, now,” Marcus said. “I know you’re protective of me, but don’t go charging over there to rip him a new one. I’m sure several others have already beaten you to the punch.”

Ami grinned up at him.

Eyes twinkling, he smiled back. “Try to refrain from eating the callow cubs, lioness. Most won’t attain your hunting skills even after years of practice.”

She nudged him with her shoulder. “Sweet talker.”

“He wishes!” Richart called out.

“You’re just jealous,” Marcus retorted.

Étienne laughed and shoved his brother.

“Hey!” a deep voice shouted from the back of the house. “Is that Ami?”

Ami jumped when everyone in the room chorused, “Yes.” They knew her?

Pursing her lips, she eyed Marcus balefully. “I think being your Second has made me notorious.”

He shook his head. “Remaining at my side and standing against thirty-four vampires made you notorious. You’ve only yourself to blame.”

Darnell emerged from the hallway on the opposite side of the room. Tall and lean with medium brown skin and a shaved head, he hurried forward with a broad grin. “There she is!”

Happiness flooding her, Ami dropped Marcus’s hand and slung her arms around Darnell’s neck as he swooped down and lifted her into a tight hug. She laughed as he twisted from side to side so her feet swung back and forth like a bell’s clapper.

“I missed you,” she declared.

“I missed you, too,” he said. “And damned near passed out every time someone informed me of your latest exploits. What the hell, Ami?” Setting her on her feet, he peered down at Ami with a concern that warmed her heart. “Thirty-four? Thirty-four?”

She sighed. “I wish everyone would focus less on the number of vampires we fought and more on the fact that we defeated them.”

“Trust me. That fact does not go unacknowledged. Everyone on the Immortal Guardians Web site considers you a legend.”

“What do they consider me?” Marcus asked behind her. Darnell scowled at him. “Insane.”

Ami punched him in the shoulder. “Don’t pick on him.”

“You almost died for him,” he snapped.

She raised one eyebrow. “Wouldn’t you do the same for David?”

He grumbled a bit, then said, “David doesn’t take unnecessary risks.”

“He did a year and a half ago,” she pointed out, reminding him of the day Seth and David had risked their lives to rescue her.

He gave her a sweet smile. “That risk was necessary.”

Ami turned back to Marcus and found him watching her carefully. When Darnell moved to put a companionable arm around her shoulders, Marcus reclaimed her hand and tugged her away from him.

Was he jealous?

Two immortals she had never seen before entered from the hallway.

“Who are they?” Marcus asked.

Darnell glanced over his shoulder and gave the two men a friendly nod. Most of the other inhabitants of the room stared at them curiously. “Stanislav and Yuri. They’re passing through on their way to Virginia.”

“Time for a changing of the guard?”

Seth liked to move immortals around every so often to keep them from getting bored. New environments tended to revitalize them, particularly if the immortals found themselves out of their element or comfort zone.

But Darnell shook his head. “Beefing up the numbers. Whatever the hell is going down here is beginning to spill over into neighboring states. O’Kearney left for Tennessee half an hour ago. Apparently the vampire gathering taking place now is a hell of a lot larger than the one Bastien instigated.”

Ami frowned. “How is that possible?”

“We can’t be absolutely certain yet,” Darnell said, “but when Bastien plotted his revenge, he only recruited vampires who had already been turned. We think whoever the ringleader is this time has ordered his followers to turn humans at will.”

Marcus swore.

Darnell nodded, his handsome face somber. “The missing person reports are piling up. And it’s the only way we’ve been able to explain how their numbers have remained so high despite the vamps you and Ami took out over a week ago and the vamps you all managed to destroy in last night’s sting.”

“What was the final count on that?” Ami asked.

“Last night? Eighty-three.”

The astonishingly high figure sent chills through her.

Beside her, Marcus stiffened. His hand tightened around hers, his grip almost painful. “What the hell is he doing here?” he growled.

Surprised by the menace that darkened the words, she followed his gaze beyond Darnell’s shoulder and the two Russians to the immortal entering from the hallway.

Upon hearing Marcus’s question, Bastien said, “Fuck you, too.”

A cold breeze ruffled Ami’s hair as the door behind her opened.

Bastien’s gaze drifted to hers. His features softened. “Hello, princess.”

Marcus’s silent disapproval swirled around her like fog.

Ami raised her chin and thrust it out stubbornly. She might still struggle against the weakness that infused her whenever she met strangers, but she was sure as hell strong enough not to let others pick and choose her friends and enemies. Bastien had been nothing but kind to her. She wouldn’t believe the things people said about him without more proof than gossip.

So, she gave him a warm smile. “Hi, Bastien.”

While Marcus stewed beside her, Bastien lowered one eyelid in a delighted wink.

“What the fuck is he doing here?” A gravelly voice demanded behind her.

Ami looked around as Roland and Sarah entered. Roland slammed the door. Holding hands, the couple moved to stand on the other side of Marcus.

Looking back at Bastien, Ami wondered if she was the only one who caught the tightening of his lips and the muscle that leapt in his jaw before he sent Sarah a taunting smile. “Hello, darling. How’s the head?”

Ami winced. The fractured skull Bastien had given Sarah had nearly killed her and was not something anyone should make light of.

Hair and clothing stirred as Roland swept past humans and immortals alike and tackled Bastien, slamming him into the wall. Sheetrock and soundproofing insulation exploded outward in a cloud of dust and black scraps. Splinters flew as a two-by-four cracked.

The humans in the living room raced to the relative safety of the dining room. Yuri and Stanislav observed the immortal pair bent on killing each other with curiosity. Étienne, Lisette, and Richart pretty much ignored them, continuing their conversation.

Ami looked up at Marcus and tugged his hand.

“What?”

“Aren’t you going to stop them?”

“I hadn’t planned on it, no.”

On his other side, Sarah said, “You know Seth won’t like this.”

Marcus caught Darnell’s eye. “Is Seth here?”

“Yes. He and David are downstairs training a couple of youngsters Seth is stationing in South Carolina.”

David and Seth referred to just about any immortal turned in the past century and a half as a youngster.

Marcus sighed heavily. “Fine.” Releasing Ami’s hand, he leaped across the room and inserted himself between Roland and Bastien.

Ami expected Roland to keep pounding away. But spilling his friend’s blood must not have appealed to him. He stopped when Marcus wouldn’t let him shove him out of the way.

Eyes glowing, blood flowing from a split lip, cut cheek, and broken nose (all of which healed as she watched), Roland locked gazes with a bloodied Bastien, who Marcus held at bay with one hand planted in the center of his chest.

“Why are you here?” Roland snarled.

“Haven’t you heard?” Bastien sneered. “I require David’s protection. Some of you immortals want my head on a platter for a little murder and mayhem I committed.”

You immortals. Bastien still didn’t think of himself as one of them. Perhaps he never would.

“For killing the vampire at the network?” Étienne asked. “I find it hard to believe any immortal would object to that.”

Lisette nodded. “I killed seven last night.”

Cautiously, Marcus lowered his arm and moved to stand beside Roland.

“He didn’t just kill a vampire,” Chris Reordon inserted. “He took out several of my men.”

“Humans?” Richart inquired with a frown.

“Yes.”

“I didn’t kill them,” Bastien pointed out dryly. “None were permanently damaged. Didn’t Seth and David patch all the wankers up?”

“The crimes you committed at the network last night aren’t the only reason so many are calling for your execution,” Chris snapped.

“Execution?” Tracy repeated.

“What is the reason?” Sheldon posed.

Darnell spoke up, shoulders stiff, jaw clenched. “That isn’t why you’re all here.”

Bastien’s lips turned up in a bitter smile. “Oh, come now. Why not give them what they want? They’ll find out soon enough anyway.”

“Bastien,” Darnell warned.

Ami didn’t know what was going on, but silently willed Bastien to remain silent.

“The mystery has been solved,” Bastien announced instead, glancing at each immortal in turn. “Vampires didn’t kill Ewen Donaldson.”

Marcus stiffened.

Bastien smiled. “I did.”

“It’s true,” Chris spat out. “The bastard practically bragged about it last night when I held him in custody. Said if Ewen couldn’t best him, what made me think I could.”

The room seemed to acquire a photograph-like stillness. No lungs expanded. Breath neither sucked in in gasps nor whooshed out in furious exhalations. Not one muscle twitched as shock hung in the hair, dangling like a spider from its web.

Ewen, a much-beloved Scottish immortal, had been killed almost two centuries ago. Ami had heard David mention him.

Marcus’s eyes began to glow. Then Roland’s. Richart’s. Étienne’s. Lisette’s. Yuri’s. Stanislav’s.

Ami bit her lip as Marcus clenched his hands into fists. “You fucked-up fuck!” His form blurred, shot forward, and slammed into Bastien. All hell broke loose. Every immortal in the house blurred and dove into the fight. Every immortal save Sarah, who—like Ami—gaped at the violence.

Darnell herded Sarah and Ami behind him and backed them toward the dining room as furniture flew, sofas split, lamps shattered, and Sheetrock rained down from the ceiling.

Ami stood on her toes, struggling to see over Darnell’s broad shoulders, but he was as tall as Marcus.

Sarah did the same, then gently forced him aside.

He looked at her in surprise.

“I’m immortal,” she reminded him.

Darnell offered a chagrined nod. “Sorry. I forgot.”

Bastien crashed into the wall opposite the struggle. The window a few feet away shattered in a burst of sparkling confetti. Sheetrock and soundproofing material crumbled and tore, fluttering down around him as he fell to the floor. The immortals converged on him in a combined blur of motion, flowing like a ghostly tidal wave over broken furniture, and sweeping him up in a maelstrom.

Ami touched Sarah’s arm to get her attention. “We have to stop this.”

She nodded. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“I’m coming with you.”

“You can’t,” she protested, as at the same time Darnell blurted out, “The hell you are!”

Ami frowned. “They’re more likely to stop to keep from hurting me.”

When she started forward, Darnell latched onto her arm and tugged her back against him. “No. They’re not thinking straight and may not even realize you’re there until it’s too late.”

“But—”

“I’ll do it,” Sarah repeated, and took a step forward.

The loudest, foulest epithet Ami had ever heard shook the room.

Every blurred form solidified as the immortals stopped. Bastien’s battered, bloody form slumped to the floor, released by whomever the last to pummel him had been.

All eyes turned to the hallway and the tall, imposing figure stepping from its shadows.

His amber eyes blazed brightly with fury, a fascinating contrast to his smooth, dark as midnight skin. Ami had once heard Sarah say David had the face of a pharaoh, and she had to agree. Something about him just screamed royalty. He stood six feet seven inches tall, with broad shoulders and a mass of pencil-thin dreadlocks that tumbled neatly down his back to his hips. Power oozed from every pore.

Usually even-tempered, tonight he radiated fury like a campfire radiated heat.

“I can’t leave you children alone for five minutes!” he bellowed and threw out his arms, indicating the damage. “What the hell?”

Darnell motioned to the figure on the floor, nearly hidden behind all of the immortals’ black-clad legs. “Bastien told them why he needs protection.”

David released a long-suffering sigh. “Roland, Marcus, the two of you are paying for this.” He looked pointedly at his demolished living room.

“Why us?” Roland demanded belligerently, wiping blood from his nose.

“Because you started it.”

No one asked how he knew. He could have plucked the information from any of their minds or heard it from the basement.

“Technically speaking,” Chris Reordon said, “Bastien started it.”

“Bullshit. All Bastien did was open that mouth of his. Roland and Marcus threw the first punches.”

“He killed Ewen,” Marcus barked.

Ami bit her lip. He and Ewen must have been friends.

“Yes,” David said, unperturbed, “he did. One hundred eighty-seven years ago. Seth is handling it. Tonight we have more pressing issues to discuss.”

The little bit of rumbling protest that floated through the room in response fell silent as David raked his gaze over each person present. When his glowing eyes met Ami’s, a smile lit his handsome face. “Hello, sweetheart.” He opened his muscular arms. “Come give us a kiss.”

Smiling back, she crossed the room and wrapped her arms around his waist. Since he was so tall, the top of her head only reached about nipple high, but she didn’t care. She had missed him.

He engulfed her in a tight hug, then leaned down and kissed her forehead. “How are you holding up?” he asked softly as the immortals began halfheartedly putting the living room back together.

She shrugged. “Kicking lots of ass.”

He laughed. “I told you you were the most talented warrior I have ever trained. Why do you think the three of us always fought over who would spar with you?”

She wrinkled her nose in denial.

“What about Marcus? How are you getting along with him?”

Though she tried, she couldn’t keep a blush from creeping into her cheeks and hoped fiercely that he wouldn’t peek into her mind and read her memories of the hours they had spent in bed. “Fine.” Then she ruined any attempt at nonchalance by blurting out, “Don’t read my mind!”

“I won’t,” he promised with a wry smile. His gaze, still glowing faintly, went over her head. “Something tells me if I did I would want to do some ass-kicking of my own.”

“Where’s Seth?” Marcus spoke behind her, voice grim.

Ami swiveled around. “Are you all right?”

Bastien had gotten in a few shots, though how he had managed it she didn’t know. One of Marcus’s eyes had already swollen shut, blackened, and begun to heal.

Reaching up, she cupped his chin and tilted his head so she could examine the scrape on his jaw and his split, puffy lip, which sealed itself as she watched.

“I’m fine.”

“Do you need blood?”

David’s large hands cupped her shoulders. “She’s not on the menu.”

Ami rolled her eyes. “Seth already told him that, David.”

Marcus took her hand and drew it away from his face. “I’m fine.”

He didn’t seem fine.

He looked to David. “Where’s Seth? I need to speak with him.”

“Still training the youngsters. I offered to handle the scuffle up here.” He raised his voice sharply. “Which shouldn’t have needed handling. Honestly, every immortal in this room has lived at least two centuries, give or take a year. In all of that time you haven’t learned to control your tempers better than this?”

Several heads dipped. Gazes slipped away.

Marcus gave Ami’s hand a light squeeze. “I’ll be back in a few.”

Ami watched him go with trepidation.

Marcus strode down the hallway and descended the steps to the expansive basement. At the foot of the stairs stretched another long hallway. To the right were a dozen or so bedrooms meant to accommodate the many visitors David received. To the left was a practice room the size of a high school gymnasium with a padded floor, exercise equipment, and a wall full of mirrors.

Just on the other side of the gym a new room had recently been added. Though it served as another bedroom, it had come to be known as the Quiet Room. So much soundproofing material had gone into the making of it that even immortals couldn’t hear a word of what was spoken within once the door was closed.

David had not said why he had added it, but Marcus and the others believed he had done it for Sarah and Roland, so the couple could have privacy if they stayed the day. A very rare occurrence considering Roland’s reclusive nature. But Roland adored Sarah and would do just about anything to make her happy, including spend more time with men and women he would rather avoid like a sexually transmitted disease.

Metal striking metal resounded from the training room. Pained grunts, the whoosh of blades cutting through air, and a startled gag assaulted Marcus’s ears as he strode to the entrance.

Inside, one man sprawled on the padded floor where Seth had deposited him, while another breathed heavily through his mouth and swung two short swords at the Immortal Guardians’ leader.

Seth deflected the attack with embarrassing ease. And the attack was not at all amateur.

Marcus recognized the men Seth fought. Edward, the one leaping up from the floor, was a Brit like himself who had been transformed 123 years ago if Marcus remembered correctly. At what age he had been turned, Marcus didn’t know and couldn’t tell. Such was generally the case with immortals, since the virus reversed the damage age did to the body.

Étienne had trained Edward. His sister Lisette had trained the other youngster, who held his own fairly well, though he inflicted no damage on his more powerful adversary. Ethan was an American who had been an immortal for exactly one century and had reportedly fallen a little bit in love with his mentor, a snippet of gossip Lisette insistently denied.

Edward retrieved his swords and circled Seth, swinging and thrusting every time he saw an opening.

Seth remained in constant motion, his arms a blur, his legs and torso mostly visible though he constantly rotated to keep each man in sight. Both of Edward’s swords Seth repelled with a single katana. Ethan’s, too. The younger warriors exhibited an amusing combination of awe and frustration. Defeating solo vampires night after night tended to inspire an inflated sense of strength and power. Sparring with Seth utterly obliterated that and tended to leave one feeling like a five-year-old swinging wildly and being held at bay by his ten-year-old brother’s hand on his forehead.

“Halt,” Seth called suddenly.

In unison, Ethan and Edward stopped mid-swing, lowered their weapons, and stepped back.

All three men, standing on the far side of the large room near the wall of mirrors, sheathed their weapons and turned to face Marcus. Since they would begin the night’s hunt once the meeting adjourned, they were garbed as the other immortals were: black pants, black shirts, black boots. Blood was too noticeable on and a bitch to get out of any other color.

When Marcus started toward them, Edward offered him a genial smile. “Hi, Marcus. Sorry you had to see that. A bit embarrassing, getting trounced so easily.”

Ethan nodded. “Hello, Marcus. It’s been a long time.” He paused. “Glad to see you looking so well.” More like Glad to see you still living and breathing, you crazy bastard. Ethan had never understood Marcus’s particular angst.

Seth said nothing, merely watched Marcus’s approach with sharp eyes.

Did he sense the chaos that thrummed through Marcus, feel the fury that burned beneath the surface of his skin like fire, scalding, then blistering him until he wanted to scream with it?

Marcus caught a glimpse of his own reflection in the mirror behind the men, saw the fading bruises and cuts from the scuffle that had taken place upstairs. Though only partly responsible for his current emotional state, it only enraged him more.

His brown eyes sparked to amber fire. His pace increased, boots pounding the mat.

Seth’s eyes narrowed.

Before anyone could draw their next breath, Marcus zipped forward in a blur and swung. Seth’s head snapped back as Marcus’s fist slammed into his jaw. Bone shattered as the jaw disconnected. Blood sprayed. Teeth loosened.

A younger immortal would have been thrown across the room by the force Marcus had put behind that strike. Seth staggered back a single step, turned to the side, and bent forward.

Edward gaped.

Ethan muttered, “Holy shit.”

Seth cupped the long fingers of one hand around his cheek and chin. Blood spilled from his lips and spattered the padded floor. He grunted. A crunching sound, like tumbling pebbles, filled the air as bone slid back into place and knitted back together so quickly Seth’s jaw didn’t even have time to swell.

Seth straightened.

Marcus stiffened, rotated slightly to the side and clenched his fists, ready to defend himself.

The eyes Seth turned on him contained a faint golden glow, a gentle reminder of what had happened the last time Marcus had triggered the ancient immortal’s wrath.

“If that was for Ewen,” Seth growled, “your ass is—”

“It wasn’t. It was for Ami.”

The leader of the Immortal Guardians paused. Considered. The glow faded. “All right. I’ll give you that one.” He looked at the dumbfounded youngsters. “Leave us.”

Edward and Ethan nodded, bowed to the leader, then strode past Marcus, their belief that he had truly lost his mind written all over their pale faces.

When they had gone, Seth headed for the door. “Come with me.”

Bastien roused while the immortals—with a great deal of duct tape, hammering, and conversation—tried to put the room back in order. Ami would have gone to him and helped him clean his wounds up a bit so they would heal faster, but when she took a step toward him, he caught her eye and shook his head.

Ami hesitated. Was he too proud to accept assistance? Or did he seek to protect her?

Every immortal in the room suddenly froze. The only speech left flowing—that produced by the humans—soon trailed away to silence as the Seconds realized something was amiss.

At first, Ami thought the immortals had noticed Bastien’s revival and were pondering a rematch.

Then Stanislav looked at Yuri. “Did ... did Marcus just ... ?”

Yuri nodded, face somber.

All immortal heads abruptly turned, their eyes focusing on Ami.

Ami glanced over her shoulder at the door, thinking someone must have entered silently behind her, but saw no one. She turned back around.

The Seconds followed the gazes of the immortals they served, staring at Ami and rattling her nerves.

Darnell looked around with a frown and moved to stand beside her. “What’s going on?”

Two immortals entered from the hallway. The youngsters with whom Seth had been sparring?

They halted and looked at Ami, too. “Is she Ami?” one asked.

Étienne gave a brief nod.

The fear Ami had fought so hard to dispel arose with a vengeance.

What was happening? Why were they looking at her like that? What did they know that she didn’t?

Darnell’s arm came around her shoulders, pulling her protectively against his side.

Ami leaned into him and wished with all her being that Marcus would return.

Marcus followed Seth into the Quiet Room, taking little notice of the bedroom’s furnishings.

Seth closed the door and, pulling a handkerchief from his pants pocket, wiped the blood from his lips and chin.

Impatient, Marcus spoke. “Is she a gifted one?”

Seth tucked the soiled handkerchief away and met Marcus’s gaze. “No,” he answered solemnly.

Pain careened through him. Marcus closed his eyes. She had told him as much, but ... “She has premonitions. Or something of the sort.”

“She isn’t a gifted one, Marcus. I’m sorry.”

A lump lodged itself in his throat. “You son of a bitch.” A whisper full of accusation and heartache. “How could you do this to me?”

“I didn’t know you would fall in love with her.”

“Didn’t you?” Marcus asked bitterly. “Don’t you know everything? Isn’t it all fated? Didn’t you know Bethany would fall in love with Robert?”

Seth sighed. “That was an exception, not the rule. If I were the omniscient cupid you make me sound like, I would have found each and every one of you spouses to dispel your loneliness long ago.”

“You’re certain? I’ve never encountered anyone with extrasensory abilities who wasn’t either a gifted one or an immortal.”

“I’m certain.”

Marcus rubbed his burning eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose. “History is destined to repeat itself. Isn’t that what you and David are so fond of reminding us of?”

“This isn’t history repeating itself.”

“Isn’t it?” Marcus asked with a despairing laugh. “What will I have? Fifty, sixty years with her before I lose her like I did Bethany? If a vampire doesn’t kill her first. Then ... what ... spend the next millennium mourning her?”

“This isn’t history repeating itself,” Seth said again. “You never felt for Bethany what you feel for Ami.”

Marcus knew it was true, but couldn’t hold back a truculent, “What makes you so sure?”

“What would you sacrifice for Ami?”

Because the question was asked with such earnestness, Marcus gave it due deliberation. His answer, after a full minute, was the same as the first one that had rung through his head. “Anything.”

“What would you risk to make her yours?”

“Everything.”

“Yet you risked little for Bethany and sacrificed nothing beyond your own happiness. You never disclosed your feelings. You never let her in. You could have forfeited your friendship with Robert. You could have—”

“I would never have dishonored him so!” Marcus snapped. “He was family to me. I—”

“If you had thought you could have with Bethany what you know you can have with Ami, you would have risked it all.”

“She thought I was a boy! A little brother!”

“You could have watched Bethany and Robert live out their lives together, waited eight hundred years for her to be born and reach adulthood, then seduced her and kept her from going back in time. Neither she nor Robert would have ever been the wiser. You would have had both your friendship with Robert in the past and your happily ever after with Bethany in the present.” Seth crossed to a wingback chair and folded his long frame into it. “She was even a gifted one. You could have transformed her and spent eternity with her.”

“I wouldn’t have made her as happy as Robert did,” Marcus recited numbly.

“What you didn’t realize until now is that she would not have made you as happy as Ami can.”

Backing up, Marcus sank down on the edge of the bed.

Seth settled one booted foot across the opposite knee. “Consider your feelings for Ami. You’ve known her for ... two weeks. Imagine what you will feel for her in a year.”

He couldn’t. Not without panicking at the thought of how little time they would have together in the greater scheme of things. “I don’t want to lose her.”

“One thing you might keep in mind, Marcus, is that you are not indestructible yourself. You can be killed. And have come close a time or two during the last year and a half. Stop obsessing over a future you could be deprived of at any moment by a simple decapitation.”

Marcus snorted. “Decapitation my ass. Thirty-four vampires couldn’t take me out.”

Seth raised an eyebrow. “You think no one else can?”

“Hell no. Not with Ami fighting at my back.”

Seth threw back his head and laughed. “She’s amazing, isn’t she?”

“She is. I’ve lived over eight centuries, and nothing or no one has surprised me more.”

“I’ve lived longer than that and can say the same.” Seth glanced toward the door. “We should begin the meeting soon ... before Sebastien opens his mouth and gets himself into trouble again.”

Rising, Marcus scowled. “Did he really kill Ewen?”

“Yes. And you and the others would be wise not to question my manner of dealing with it.”

Marcus nodded and strolled to the door. “You coming?” he asked, opening it.

“In a minute.”