Holly dressed for the theatre with the slowness of one heading for the gallows. She did not want to face this. Old fear had her wanting to do nothing more than hide away in her laboratory. With a small curse, Holly tied a black satin ribbon around her neck, a necessary adornment, as the two puncture marks from Thorne’s fangs had yet to fad.

Then she left the safety of her rooms. With his hair tied back in a low queue, Thorne looked younger, the handsome lines of his face striking. But he appeared no happier about the outing. They were silent as they headed to the theatr.

At some point, he’d taken her hand in his, holding it with the casualness of long familiarity. Had he not touched her, she’d feel bereft. Twenty-three years, she’d gone through life without the need to hold onto another, and now the touch of this sanguis demon was essential to her. She was still frowning when they stopped a block away from the Abbot. Long lines of coaches and cabs clogged the street in an effort to pull up before the theatr.

Thorne knocked upon the hack’s ceiling, and it pulled over. “We’ll walk from here,” he said, helping her down from the cab. Fine by her. Holly breathed in the acrid air of congested London, tasting the rot and coal on her tongue, and tried to relax. Around them, people chatted, their heels clicking on the pavement as they bustled to and fro. Hawkers were calling out their wares, and the warm scent of roasted chestnuts drifted on a crisp breez.

Holly burrowed further into her thick velvet cloak and glanced up at Thorne, who stood unmoving and stiff. In the grey light of the evening, he appeared paler than usual, a platinum sheen glimmering along the surface of his skin. Metal swarming through his blood. “You’re in pain.” She cupped his cheek and found it cold, even through the barrier of her white silk evening gloves. “Why did you not tell me?” He flinched. “What difference would it make?” “Because I want to know.” “Leave off with it, will you?” Silence rang out in the aftermath of his harsh reply. Not meeting her eyes, he looked off in the direction they were headed, where men in top hats and women with intricate coiffures smiled as they walked through the Abbot’s enormous front doors. “I apologize, Holly. That was not…” Clasping her elbow with care, he moved them out of the never-ending flood of people flowing past before speaking again. “I’m…” A silky white strand of his hair escaped its queue and brushed his collar as he shook his head. An aggrieved look tightened his features. “Tonight, I must let you go, keep my distance, for these men cannot see what you mean to m.

Any weakness is assessed and preyed upon in an instant.” “I am your weakness.” Guilt swamped her anew. “And my strength.” He took a step closer, and his warmth enveloped her in the cold night. “They cannot know that, either.” Heart in her throat, she swallowed hard. “I see.” “Do you?” His thumb slid over her knuckles, and she fought a shiver. “Do you understand how hard it is for me to let you go?” His voice lowered. “To even consider it?” Thorne’s brows knitted as he peered down at her. “I need my wits about me, and though I am growing more adept at controlling myself, I fear that if I become too agitated, I shall fail tonight. Tell me, Miss Evernight, what shall we do?” “We prepare you properly.” She drew him into a shadowed corner, and then opened her arms. “Come here.” He held back for just a breath, then he tugged her close until they were connected from breast to thigh. On a shudder, he rested his forehead against her crown. She cupped the nape of his neck and slid her other hand beneath his overcoat and under his suit jacket. The mad churning of his heart vibrated against her palm. Holly closed her eyes, trying to ignore the soft caress of his fingers along the small of her back, and let all of her power fre.

A groan of pleasure rumbled through him as he sagged against her, pressing them into the rough brick wall of the small nook. Warmth, light, calm—she felt it go through her and into him. But it wasn’t enough. She knew it instinctively. He needed more than what her power could give him. Her mind flipped through possible solutions until it screeched to a halt on on.

Blood. Holly eased back to tug down the ribbon upon her neck. When Thorne lifted his head and frowned, she arched her neck. “Drink.” Instantly he stiffened. “No. Not from you.” “Why?” Her br**sts lifted and fell against his chest with each agitated breath she took. He almost snarled, looming over her like a vexed angel. “I don’t need it.” Stubborn, petulant… “You are sanguis. Blood is nourishment, and you’ve been ignoring your basic nature.” His mouth tightened, but his gaze lowered to her neck, and again his grip upon her flexed. “What if I take too much?” Holly caressed his chest, wanting so badly to soothe him. “Did you not once tell me that to withdraw out of fear is to die by degrees? You are sanguis,” she insisted. “Fully grown. You know how to do this without harm. So take it. Take what you need to give yourself strength.” She huffed out a breath when he simply stared. “Do so now, or I’ll cut myself open and pour the damn blood down your throat.” He chuckled, but when she moved to pull free of the knife tucked into her boot, he growled and grabbed hold of her nap.

With blinding speed he struck, sinking his fangs in deep and clean. Sweet, sharp pain lanced down her neck, then turned to base heat as he started to suck. Each pull sent a stroke of sensation over her sex. Holly pressed her thighs together and tried to breathe through the lust coursing through her veins. She needn’t have bothered. On the next breath, he had set her free, backing off with a gasp. His color was high and flush with health. That alone gave her satisfaction. Weakly, she smiled at him. “Very good. You have a few hours now, at the very least.” The ground beneath her tilted drunkenly, and she leaned into the building. Thorne hadn’t taken very much blood. She could tell. No, this weakness, this strange, heavy pain that seemed to push its way through her veins with cold hands was something different. Metal. She could feel it invading her from the insid.

Most worrisom.

Holly shivered convulsively. He grabbed her upper arms and drew her closer. “You are too pal.

I should not have done this.” Holly managed a deep breath. “It is not the blood. I told you befor.

Using my power so quickly takes its toll.” His expression turned pained. “Holly—” “Save your regrets. They won’t help us here.” She allowed herself a moment to rest against the wall before pushing away and wrenching free of his grip. “Do not make my efforts for naught.” Will used to love the theatre, loved drinking up the laughter, heat, and vibrancy of humans who attended it. The SOS bastards thought that because the Nex wanted to live out in the open, that they hated humans. Maybe some did. But not the sanguis. Other supernaturals never truly understood how much the sanguis loved humans. They were so wonderfully reactionary. Emotions ruled them. Logic only came upon them in hindsight, a convenient little fallback on which they tried to talk their way out of their actions. As emotions were, in essence, energy, a sanguis could walk beside a human and simply soak it up. And a crowd of humans? Divin.

Which was why sanguis tended to haunt public houses, brothels, gaming hells, and the lik.

Anywhere one could find a guaranteed mass of emotionally charged humans. Theatres were his favorite haunt. The bawdier the better. Now, however, even the buzz of the humans gathering en masse did little to elevate his mood. Dread held onto Will with icy hands. No matter how he inwardly scolded himself, he could not shake free from the feeling. He hadn’t lied when he’d told Holly that tonight’s meeting with the Alamut wasn’t a trap. He was Alamut, and though he’d forgotten the truth for a time, they certainly hadn’t; an invitation to meet with them was expected. He could guess that they’d want to know why one of their own was protecting their mark. But to invite Holly? That was troubling. The whole situation bothered him. Why couldn’t he remember the particulars? He was convinced his memory had been wiped clean. But he was starting to believe that it would be revealed tonight. The thought had his head aching, as though the lost memories were trying desperately to return. Grimly, he guided Holly to their box. The Abbot, though not as flash as some others, was fine enough, with gilt touches, massive crystal chandeliers that hung from the high-domed ceiling. It rose three stories, with public balconies and private boxes ringing the stag.

Their box was a small space with only four chairs availabl.

It was empty when they arrived. And as Holly moved to the rail to peer out at the spectacle of patrons finding their places, Will thrust a chair under the door handl.

It wouldn’t hold any real threat out, but it would give him a bit of warning. That done, he moved close to Holly. Cocooned inside the small box with its red damask walls and heavy velvet drapes framing their view of the stage, he felt a measure of calm. Unable to help himself, he placed his palm against the small of her back where indigo satin lay smooth and tight. She turned and looked up at him. Still too pale for his liking, she appeared to have calmed as well. “All will be well.” The words tasted like a lie on his tongu.

And when the lights dimmed and the curtains lifted, Will sat close to Evernight and tried again to put away his dread. By his side she sat, enthralled by the bubbly musical that played out on the stag.

But Will couldn’t watch it. Holly had weakened herself for him, and though he understood her motives, and agreed with them, it sickened him all the sam.

It was his duty to protect her. From all things. Even from himself. Will rubbed at the cold spot of platinum that ran down his sternum. It ached, going in deep. He glanced at Holly. He had to leave her. When this was done, he had to get as far away from her as possibl.

She wouldn’t protest, at any rat.

The blasted woman couldn’t have made that fact more clear. Anger, futile and pained, rolled within him. Sod all, he was finished with her. He’d had a life before this. One that he’d return to with relish. She’d soon be a faint memory, one he’d look back on with the sort of wry fondness reserved for those awkward moments in one’s life that eased with the passage of tim.

She’d be an anecdote he’d tell on some distant day, and his friends would have a chuckle over it with him. Will grimaced, pressing a hand to his chest again. Hells bells but he hurt ther.

No. He would not fall to melancholy. Holly Evernight had no hold on him. No longer. Then something extraordinary happened. She laughed. She’d done so before, when he’d first come into her hous.

A lifetime ago, it seemed. He’d forgotten how utterly beautiful she was when she laughed. How utterly freely she did so. Her cheeks pinked with it, plumping up into soft curves. The corners of her fine, blue eyes crinkled merrily. She was utterly without guil.

It took his breath. His chest hitched—sweet, tight pain holding him captiv.

On the next breath, warmth invaded his body. And his heart, that cold, metal contraption that he’d hated for so very long, heated. She’d made that heart, with her clever mind and quiet courag.

He lived because of her. In that instant, he knew. She was his heart. When life threatened to sweep him up in a tide of meaningless encounters, she grounded him, made him think about something other than his own selfish needs. What was he to do without her? Emotion rose up, clogging his throat, stinging the backs of his eyes. It was all he could do not to reach out and grab hold of her. His fists clenched so hard that his palms stung with the prick of his claws. Awareness stole over her, that he was watching her instead of the show, making her shoulders tens.

And she turned, the elegant wings of her black brows lifting in question. She leaned towards him, just a touch, and her intoxicating scent enveloped him. “What is it?” Searching for his voice, he could only shake his head, and her expression turned to concern. Lightly, she touched the back of his hand. “Thorne?” Close, she was so very clos.

Vivid and aliv.

She was color and life, the glossy ink-black of her hair, the white velvet of her skin so stark against the blue of her gown, her pink lips parted in curious concern. At her throat, the black satin ribbon hid his mark. Will frowned at it, then up at her. When he spoke, his voice came out dry as sand. “I cannot do this anymore.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

Thorne’s confession rang clear as a bell in the small, dark space of their box. Pain lanced Holly through the belly. Did he wish to leave her? Cease his protection of her? Oddly, it was not the notion of being left unprotected that sent a bolt of ribald fear and sharp pain through her. Death, she could face, could fight with wit and resolv.

Being alone? Without him? Holly knew with the utter surety of finally solving a puzzle that the loss of him would devastate her. He’d become the brightest part of her. In a world of chaos, science gave her life meaning and focus. But William Thorne brought her joy, hope, the promise that each day would show something new and unexpected. How could she have missed it? Despite the laughter and music all around, silence thickened between them. He peered at her, his expression more intent and serious than she’d ever seen it. And she could only stare back, her eyes surely glazed. “Do you understand?” he whispered finally. They were sitting close enough that the smooth tenor of his voice rolled over her skin, and she shivered. “No,” she blurted out. “Do you…” Her breath caught and she tried again. “Do you mean to leave me?” Tears prickled behind her lids, turning her vision watery. His gaze darted over her face, and then his stern countenance shifted to one of shocking tenderness. “Never.” It was a fierce declaration in the darkness. Slowly, with immeasurable care, he reached out and took hold of the end of the ribbon about her neck, and pulled. The satin slipped free, and a shiver of pleasure licked over her skin as it slid down her breast and onto her lap. Thorne’s dark gaze burned. “I want you, Hollis Penelope Evernight. I can no longer pretend otherwise.” His chair creaked as he leaned forward, closing the distance between them. The gentle press of his lips upon her neck had her eyes fluttering closed. On the very spot he’d taken her blood, he kissed her, as though she were fragile and something to be savored. “I would show you the world if you let me,” he said against her skin. “I would do anything just to see joy and wonder light up your lovely face.” And she nearly sobbed. Again he kissed her, opening his mouth and sliding his tongue, oh so gently, along that tender spot. A strangled sound rose in her throat as heat licked down her body. Eyes watched them, censorious, curious, peering into their box as the show below went on. She ought to pull away, tell him to stop. Instead her fingers threaded through his silken hair, pulling the strands free from their tight queu.