Duncan led his people toward the tunnel entrance, their way lit by the blaze itself. He dodged aside as another section of floor gave way, the fire licking toward them eagerly, the smoke choking and black. He stopped beneath the break, using a second push of power to blow the flames back as his vampires hustled forward. Miguel led them, but Louis stood with Duncan and willingly offered his power to augment that of his Sire. Duncan rested a hand on the shorter vampire’s shoulder.

“In good time, Louis. This isn’t over yet.”

Louis nodded, his eyes on the vamps filing by, until everyone was past and he and Duncan took up the rear. Up ahead, the first of his vampires reached the reinforced hole in the wall where the tunnel entrance would have been. It already bore the heavy framework of support for the planned vault-style door. The relief of his vampires was a fresh breeze in his mind as they crossed into the relative safety of the tunnel.

It was dark inside, and cold. They were ten feet underground and Duncan could feel the damp earth in his bones as surely as if it were pressing into his pores instead of held back by two solid feet of concrete. Alaric had insisted on the extra thickness of the walls, reminding Duncan that Washington, D.C. was built on a swamp and that meant seeping water everywhere. But right now that extra thickness was one more barrier between his vampires and safety.

* * *

Emma watched blankly as Alaric and his vampires began digging. She didn’t know exactly why they were digging, except that Alaric had told her it would help Duncan and his vamps get out of the burning house. She’d frowned at his explanation, but was willing to do whatever it took to save Duncan, so she’d offered to help dig. Alaric had laughed and assured her his people could do it far faster. Casting about for something to do besides stare helplessly, she’d found a supply of bottled water in the garage and hauled it out to the yard. Everyone seemed to appreciate that, even the vampires, but there was only so much water one could drink. So, now she was back to watching and waiting.

Fire Captain Stavros came around eventually, stared at the diggers, then marched over to Emma.

“What the hell are those men doing?” he demanded.

Emma drew herself up and said confidently, “They’re digging a rescue tunnel.”

“A rescue—” Stavros glared at her, then as if a light had gone on over his head, his expression cleared and he said, “Vampires.”

Emma nodded. “Yes.” And then swore to herself privately because Stavros had figured it out before she did. Obviously, Duncan and his vampires slept somewhere in the basement, not on the second floor as she’d assumed. And it was equally obvious that there had to be some sort of underground escape hatch. She didn’t find this sudden epiphany very reassuring, however, since it wasn’t much of an escape hatch if it counted on someone digging from up above. It was like drilling a rescue hole to trapped miners. They could be anywhere, and how did you know whether the rescue hole was going to be in the same place where the miners were?

Not knowing what else to say, she handed Stavros a bottle of water, then froze when Alaric shouted and everyone stopped digging. Emma stared from one of them to another, as they grabbed their equipment and began hurriedly pulling back.

“What’s going on?” she asked Alaric when he strode over to the garage and began urging her inside the structure. He didn’t answer, just stepped in front of her, blocking her body as a shock wave of air roared across the yard and the earth exploded.

* * *

Duncan forced himself to wait until all of his people were gathered in what would have been the vault. He could hear digging from above, probably Alaric’s people. They’d been staying very nearby, and the old vampire would know Duncan’s most likely escape route. Duncan was also aware of Emma, and knew she was very close. The thought of Emma, of what could have happened if she’d been asleep upstairs, finally cracked his patience.

“Stand back.” He sent the warning to all of the vampires up above, but his own people heard it and knew what it meant. They straightened eagerly, as anxious as he was to escape their erstwhile prison. The digging stopped, and Duncan gathered his power into a single, concentrated blow, as if his fist were made of iron and the wall nothing but sand. He shot his arm forward, the gesture no more than a physical manifestation of the powerful force which slammed into the concrete wall, cracked it like an egg and exploded outward through nearly ten feet of solid earth.

There were cheers all around, from the people outside, both human and vampire, and from his own vampires as fresh night air flooded the tunnel. A hand reached down through the muddy hole and Duncan grabbed it. He heard Alaric’s roar of greeting before he’d gone two steps and looked up to see the wiry vampire bearing down on him with a grin.

“Duncan,” Alaric shouted. “About damn time, my lord!”

They embraced, slapping backs.

“Your woman’s a tough little lady,” Alaric growled against his ear. “Handled them human honchos like she was a four star general and them buck privates,” he added, chuckling.

Duncan looked over Alaric’s shoulder, his gaze finding Emma in the deep shadows beneath a drooping tree on the other side of the yard. She stood motionless, staring at him, her hands clasped against her mouth. He slapped Alaric’s shoulder and stepped aside, starting toward her. She watched him come, her violet eyes dark, a suspicious sheen telling him she’d been crying. Her heartbeat raced faster with every step he took. When he drew close enough, her hands fell away from her face and she ran forward, his name on her lips as she threw herself into his arms.

“Duncan,” she cried, then sucked back a sobbing breath.

“Emmaline,” he whispered against her ear, burying his face in the warm silk of her hair, filling his arms with her softness, and drowning himself in the scent and touch of her.

“I was afraid—” she started, but he shushed her, covering her mouth with his lips and drinking her in, feeling her arms tighten against his neck as the kiss deepened, as their tongues met, twisting around each other hungrily. Duncan broke off the kiss reluctantly, aware of his vampires and everyone else watching them.

“I love you, Emmaline,” he whispered. “I’ll show you how much as soon as I find us some privacy.”

“Oh,” Emma breathed, her cheeks flushing and eyes growing wide, as if aware of the onlookers for the first time.

Duncan laughed gently. “It was just a kiss,” he murmured, touching his mouth to hers quickly.

“Not just a kiss,” Emma corrected him. “One hell of a kiss.”

Duncan laughed loudly, tugging her against his chest for a hard hug, before taking her hand and turning to face the others. “Jackson,” he said, searching the faces.

“Yes, my lord.” Jackson Hissong stepped out from where he was conferring with Miguel and Louis.

“What do we know?”

Jackson came closer and said quietly, “We’ve a man in custody, my lord. But perhaps we should take this conversation to the other house. Some of what needs to be said—”

“Of course,” Duncan said immediately. “And we could all use a shower and some nutrition, as well. What about the daytime guards?”

“With your permission, my lord, I’ll have them remain on duty to secure the site until your vampires can relieve them.”

Duncan exchanged a look with Miguel who said, “The traitor has been secured. Jackson does not believe the rest of his men were involved, although we’ll check each of them before they leave to be sure.”

Duncan nodded. “Very well. Emma and I will go ahead to the other house, and we’ll convene there once everyone’s had a chance to clean up. I’ll want the prisoner made available to me.”

“Of course, my lord,” Miguel said, then turned away to begin organizing the guard rotation and departure.

Duncan dropped an arm over Emma’s shoulder and began walking toward the ten foot wall which shielded the property from a path along the river. Emma sucked in a surprised breath when he opened a small control box and entered a code on the keypad concealed there. With a soft whir of noise, a hidden gate popped out of the smooth wall.

“Where are we going?” she asked, puzzled.

“A moonlight stroll along the river,” Duncan teased.

“Very romantic,” she murmured, leaning against his side. “But I’d rather have a hot shower.”

Duncan laughed. “Will you share?”

“Only if you tell me where we’re going.”

“As Jackson said, to the other house.”

“I didn’t know there was another house!”

“I’m a vampire lord, Emma. There’s always another house.”

* * *

Emma let her head fall back as the blessedly hot water streamed through her hair, washing away shampoo along with hours of sweat and soot. She straightened and finger-combed some conditioner in, then reached back and pulled the bulk of her wet hair over one shoulder, letting the water pound the stress from her back. Sighing with pleasure, she grabbed a bar of soap and rubbed it between her hands, generating a thick lather that had only a faint clean scent. No flowery soaps for Duncan, apparently, which was fine with her. She lifted her soapy hands to her face and began to wash gently, trying not to think about what the bar soap was doing to her skin. One night wouldn’t kill her, and besides the oily residue of black soot left behind by the smoke and fire probably needed something stronger than her usual facial cleanser. She’d moisturize extra tomorrow to make up for it, once she could get to her own things. That thought made her pause. The things she’d left at Duncan’s were gone, although, thank God, she’d had her laptop with her. Everything else was easily replaceable. Besides, Duncan had survived and that’s all that mattered.

And speak of the devil . . . She caught a blurred shadow of movement before the shower door opened and the vampire himself stepped inside. Emma ran an admiring eye up and down his naked body. The mud and dirt which had made her look like a refugee only made him look more masculine, more dangerous. He bumped her carefully with his hip, one arm snaking out to circle her waist as he pushed her out of the flow of hot water.