Sara had been home all of thirty minutes, and after changing her clothes and running her freezing hands under warm water in the sink in Alexander's room, she headed downstairs to find something to eat. Instead, she found Evans dusting a pretty cherrywood table in the entryway.

"Good evening, Doctor," said the old paven, inclining his head. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

Sara's stomach chose that exact moment to alert not only herself, but Evans, of its emptiness, and she laughed at the odd sound. "I am pretty hungry."

"Oh my, yes, of course you are." Evans's expression changed dramatically, from reserved to highly embarrassed. "Please follow me."

He led her through a few rooms that were large and windowless and appeared to be office space before finally going through a set of double doors. Sara took in the enormous well-lit living room they entered, a living room that just screamed MEN LIVE

HERE. The walls were painted in a dusty red and gold, and the dark wood floor was draped in contemporary ivory and green hand-knotted wool rugs. At one end of the room, a pool table and a few black leather club chairs were set up. At the other end, a grouping of comfortable leather couches sat facing a massive flat-screen TV positioned a few feet above a beautiful river-rock fireplace. The room was masculine to be sure, but not in an off-putting way.

Evans turned around to face her then, looking a bit sheepish. "This used to be the kitchen, but when the Romans moved in . . . well, there was really no need for it."

Sara understood his meaning at once, and was surprised at herself for not thinking of it sooner. "Sure. Of course." She shrugged. "It's no problem. All I need is a menu for some good Chinese and a phone."

There was a sudden movement behind her, a whoosh of paper, and then a sober female voice that uttered, "No deliveries."

Sara whirled around, saw Dillon seated on a couch, her nose deep within the pages of the Wall Street Journal , and sighed. Had she been there the whole time? Sara wondered. Lying down or . . . hidden? And why was she still in the house? "I thought you were gone," Sara said.

"Unfortunately not." Dillon's face remained hidden in the paper.

Sara glanced over her shoulder at Evans, who appeared uncertain about what to do next, or how to deal with his new guest. "No worries," Sara told him. "I'll go pick up something."

"No," Dillon said harshly, flipping a page of her newspaper.

Sara turned back to face the irritating female vampire. "So what do you suggest, Dillon? Starvation?"

She shrugged. "Not my problem."

"What is your problem, then? I mean besides being a huge bitch?"

Unfazed by Sara's anger, Dillon stated evenly, "Bring you here. Keep you here."

Sara took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I'm hungry. As in, my gas tank's on empty. I need food, and I'm sure as hell not going on your diet, so--"

"I'd be happy to share what I've brought with me."

Both Sara and Dillon turned to see who had spoken. Standing in the doorway, dressed in skinny jeans, a long, pale gray wool sweater, that same white neck scarf, and high-heeled boots, was the vampire perfection known as Bronwyn. Smiling boldly, she entered the room with a black travel bag dangling from one petite, scarf-wrapped wrist.

Evans inclined his head. "Miss Kettler."

The black-haired beauty came to sit on the couch opposite Dillon. Sara watched as she took out what appeared to be a bento box, opened it, and began to assemble a meal.

Confused, Sara stared at her. "You eat food?"

"Certain foods," Bronwyn explained, spooning what looked like a squirrel's diet onto her plate. "In the credenti--our community--these basic staples--grains, berries--

come from the earth and help us keep clarity and strength of mind, while keeping our bodies pure."

From behind her newspaper, Dillon snorted.

"Not everyone's into that kind of thing," Bronwyn said with no embarrassment, no censure.

Fascinated, Sara came to sit between both the veanas on the third couch. She wondered about Alexander. Did he eat like this too? "Is this all you have, or do you still drink ..."

"Blood?" Bronwyn finished for her.

"Yes."

"Yes, it is blood of the Order, extracted and placed in small vials, then rationed out to the citizens of the credenti."

A hum of unease moved through Sara. The Order. That group seemed to have their hands in everything--everyone's lives, everyone's futures.

"We don't drink from each other," Bronwyn continued, taking a bite of some kind of seed bar. "That honor is saved for our true mate."

Unease changed into a perfect storm of irritation and jealousy within Sara.

Bronwyn was waiting for her true mate--Alexander--waiting to drink from him, fill her body with his potent red blood.

Sara stared at the beautiful vampire. The idea of taking another's blood into her mouth, swallowing the metallic liquid and wanting more should've made her nauseous to say the least, but it didn't. Not with the picture she had of Alexander in her mind--his naked chest, massive shoulders, and long, thick, waiting neck.

She glanced over at Dillon, who remained headfirst in her paper. "Are nuts and berries what's for dinner at your house?"

"Fuck no."

"Why not?"

Dillon ignored her, but Bronwyn quickly offered an answer. "There are some who don't agree with this way of life and its benefits. Some who think our breed should live on blood alone."

"What happens to them?" Sara asked.

"They decide to leave the credenti." Bronwyn chewed her food, but didn't seem to enjoy it much. "They walk out and choose another life."

Sara wondered if it was really as simple as all that. She eyed Dillon again, who remained still and silent behind her paper. "You walked, Dillon?"

"No, human. I ran."

Bronwyn shrugged as though this were no big deal. "Like I said, the lifestyle doesn't suit everyone."

"No," Dillon growled, thrusting down her paper and eyeing the vampire across from her. "The prison time doesn't suit everyone."

A muscle in Bronwyn's cheek twitched, but she kept her cool. "For some, it can feel that way. For others, it's a wonderful, happy, complete existence."

Studying human behavior had always been a passion for Sara, but this--studying vampire behavior and vampire cultural differences--was thrilling, to say the least. She sat forward, looking from one veana to the other. "So the ones who leave the credenti, can they exist among humans and not be detected?"

Bronwyn nodded. "For a while, if they're discreet in their appetite."

"How long is 'a while'?"

"When morpho hits for a paven and meta occurs for a veana, one is forever changed, and living among humans becomes impossible."

Sara sat forward in her chair. "Why?"

"A veana goes through meta at fifty years, far earlier than a paven goes through morpho, and though she can still remain in sunlight, the urge to find her true mate and grow large with swell is intense. It's wise for her to remove herself from human male company and return to the safety of her credenti. For a paven," she continued, "sunlight becomes the enemy of the body and like the veana, the need to find his true mate becomes impossible to deny. He can become rather like a hunter in his quest to find his veana."

Morpho was what Alexander had been through at her door, Sara mused. That's what she'd saved him from, the burns and the pain. So if one followed the other, that would mean he was on the hunt for his true mate, or soon would be. She looked at Bronwyn. "Are you, or members of the breed, tempted by human blood?"

Holding a plate of seeds and brown plantlike cakes out toward Sara, Bronwyn said, "We don't crave human blood, only the blood of other vampires."

Her eyes trained on Bronwyn, Dillon snorted again.

Sara declined the plate with thanks. "So you learn to suppress yourself and the need for blood until your true mate comes along."

Bronwyn nodded. "Exactly."

"What if you can't?" Sara asked.

"There are consequences to every choice, aren't there?" Bronwyn's gaze suddenly shifted over to Dillon, whose jaw looked so tightly clenched Sara worried that she'd crack a tooth, or a fang.

Dillon stood then, said caustically, "I think we're done talking about this."

"Why's that?" Sara asked innocently.

Dillon glared down at her. "Thought you were hungry, human."

Sara's brow lifted. "You gonna make me something, vampire?"

It was over in a split second, but Sara could've sworn she'd seen Dillon smile. "If you like your steak tartare, yeah," she said dryly. "If not, I'd better go out and get you something before the boss gets back."

Bronwyn interjected, "I forgot to ask before, but why are you here, Dillon? I'd heard you were helping guard a human politician or something."

"I took a short break to help out Alexander, protect his lady of the moment here."

She nodded toward Sara.

Bronwyn stopped eating her plant cake and looked over at Sara, this time like a bird inspecting a juicy little insect. As a slow dawn of understanding came across her face, a low, feral growl emanated from the back of her throat. She said nothing, but her eyes changed from their benign and beautiful pale green to a raging sea of emerald.

Truly afraid, Sara sat back in her chair. Coming to stand beside her, Dillon chuckled humorlessly. "Did I say something I shouldn't have?" she asked, her brow lifted as she looked at Bronwyn. "Remember, Miss Kettler, we're all responsible for our choices."

Before Bronwyn could say a word in response, the doors to the living room burst open and a chorus of loud male voices entered. All three females turned to see Alexander, Nicholas, and Lucian stalk in and head straight for the leather club chairs, Alexander leaning on Nicholas for support.

"Get blood on my pool table, Duro," Lucian snarled playfully at Alexander, "and I'll take a shot at that other shoulder of yours."

"Blood should be the least of your worries in regards to that table," Alexander returned dryly as a worried and anxious Evans fussed around him.

Nicholas chuckled, dropped Alexander onto one of the chairs. "True enough. If I had a pint for every time you scratched and pocketed the eight, I'd be a satiated paven."

"Yes, Luca--you need to learn to control your balls," Alexander declared, causing all three brothers to break into laughter.

"What happened?" Sara asked, running over to them, Dillon behind her.

Alexander sat in one of the club chairs, his shirt off, a thick towel pressed against one massive shoulder. For Sara, it was impossible not to stare at the impressive cords of muscle that stretched taut against his smooth skin. Never in her life had she seen such perfect masculine beauty. He captured her gaze then and his eyes were soft with pleasure and his full mouth curved into a smile. Sara's heart fluttered in her chest and she itched to run at him and jump in his lap.

"We went in ready to play and win an easy game," Nicholas was saying. "But the rules have changed."

"Who did this?" Dillon demanded. "Ethan Dare?"

Behind Sara, a gasp sounded. Bronwyn. Sara tore her gaze from Alexander and raised a brow at Dillon. "Who's Ethan Dare?"

The veana's eyes narrowed. "A piece-of-shit vampire with a cause."

"An enemy of the species," Bronwyn added, coming to stand beside Dillon, her tone thick with unmasked revulsion. "An Impure who wants to destroy the Eternal Breed, turn it from purity to poison."

"A little late for that," Lucian muttered under his breath, unloading his weapons and tossing them on the pool table.

Ignoring his brother, Nicholas turned to Sara and said, "Your skinny attacker was with him."

Shock and fear rippled through Sara. "You saw Tom? What was he doing there?"

"We weren't sure at first, but it looks like he's become a recruit for Dare."

"That doesn't make any sense," Sara argued. "How could that happen?"

Nicholas shrugged. "Not sure. But he is with Dare and"--he ventured a worried glance at Alexander, then returned to Sara--"he's no longer fully human."

Sara's eyes shifted to Alexander. "Talk to me."

"There is vampire blood in him," Alexander said softly. " And there is vengeance.

We scented it. Which means you are in far more danger than I thought. Either Dillon or myself will be with you 24-7."

Sara was too shocked to immediately protest, but she knew there would be a discussion later. She wasn't about to be controlled by Alexander or by the psychotic actions of her ex-patient.

"Oh, shit," Nicholas muttered, nodding at Alexander's shoulder. "It's bleeding out again."

Following his line of vision, Sara gasped. "Oh my God!" The towel that Evans now held to Alexander's wound looked like an overturned can of red paint, fingers of blood spreading in every direction.

Alexander glanced down, yanked off the towel. "More towels, Evans."

"Yes, sir. Right away." The old servant was off like a shot.

Sara stared at the bullet wound carved into Alexander's powerfully muscled shoulder, and the blood, a good deal of it leaking from the hole. She'd seen plenty of blood in her time, worked on the brains of cadavers in med school, and yet seeing Alexander with a hole in his body made her sway on her feet.

"Hey there," Alexander said to her gently, "don't go soft now."

"It looks bad."

"It's nothing. Human inflicted. The bullet's already been removed and the wound will fade in a few hours."

"No. It will fade now," said the resolute feminine voice behind Sara. There was a whisper of fabric and Bronwyn moved past her to Alexander's side.

"Stop!" Sara blurted out, following the veana, grabbing her by the wrist. "Don't touch him." She couldn't help herself, the strange urge to protect him guiding her actions.

"Easy, Doctor," Nicholas said, coming to stand between her and Bronwyn, forcing Sara to release the veana's wrist. "It's a Pureblood veana's pleasure and her gift to heal a paven or veana if she can."

Bullshit, Sara thought. Not if the paven was her paven. Sara looked at Alexander, waited for him to respond, to tell Bronwyn to back the hell off. But he didn't. He nodded.

Ready to spring, ready to punch the wall, Sara watched the beautiful vampire female inhale deeply through her nose, then part her perfect lips and blow on the ravaged and bloody skin of Alexander's shoulder. Shivering, Alexander closed his eyes and let his head drop back. Bronwyn repeated the act several times until Alexander released a sigh of satisfaction, and before Sara's eyes, the hole in his skin began to close.

The jealousy, the hatred that rushed through Sara in that moment, reminded her of the early days of junior high and a boy she'd loved who had only noticed her when she was with her incredibly hot best friend, Penny Mathews, or when he needed help on his biology homework. Watching Bronwyn heal Alexander, Sara felt odd, competitive, unsure if she could stop herself from ripping the veana's arm off if given the chance.

When the hole was completely closed, Bronwyn stepped back and Alexander opened his eyes and looked up at her, nodded. "Thank you."

She smiled, an irresistible smile. "Anytime."

Jaw clenched, Sara glanced over at Dillon. The vampire was watching her, a curious expression on her face. Sara wanted to shake her, yell at her, You're a veana too!

Why the hell couldn't you be the one to fix him?

But this wasn't about Dillon. This was about Sara and all that she lacked and being no match for something with fangs. So, trying not to appear as though her tail hovered between her legs, she lifted her chin and announced to the room, "It's sleep time for the human. Night, everybody." Calmly, coolly, and without looking at either Bronwyn or Alexander, she walked out of the room.