“How’d you guys find out where we’re staying?” I ask.

Rhine’s gaze latches on to my arm with the dragon inked into it. A slight smile touches his lips before he looks at me. “We’ve come tae help.”

I glance at Noah, who is leaning against the doorjamb, arms crossed over his chest. He looks at me and gives a slight shrug. I step closer to Rhine, give the others a brief once-over, then look back into the young guy’s gaze. “What do you mean, help us? What is it you think we need help with?”

“Och, gel,” Rhine answers with a grin. A glint of mischief lights his green eyes. “You’d be surprised at wha’ we could help ya wi’. Sort of how ya helped us all quit smokin’. How ya saved all those people at Hush 51.”

“Aye. An’ how ya can run like the devil,” Pete says. A grin slashes across white teeth. One eyebrow lifts.

I narrow my gaze.

“Do ya ken where ya are, lass?” Rhine says with a very appealing grin. “You’re in the bloody Highlands. ’Tis no surprise tae any o’ us that your mate here is a bloodsucker, although it took us a while tae figure it out. Not like us tae take so long.” Rhine cocks his head and studies me. “You’re . . . somethin’ altogether different, though.”

I’m staring at Rhine, and I gotta admit, he’s . . . impressive. Young, but pretty stable. Solid and cut, like he works out. No skully today, and his close-cut dark hair and flawless complexion make those green eyes and dark lashes definite eye- catchers. His smile widens, as if he can read my thoughts.

Impossible.

I focus. Just to be sure.

Nope. Total, one hundred percent mortal.

Noah chuckles.

“What happened back at the club? I watched. Saw the whole bloody exchange between you and that bloodsucker bitch,” Rhine said. “Froze me solid, she did, but I could still see.” He laughs, and it’s a deep, scratchy, sexy sound. “She ain’t the first one we’ve seen, either.”

“Aye, we know that’s who’s behind the murders here,” Gerry says. He’s the shyest of the bunch, I’d have to say. Wide brown eyes and dark close-clipped hair, his face baby-soft flawless, his voice soft. But when he speaks, it’s listen-worthy. “We’ve seen plenty.” He grins slightly.

“We’ve killed plenty, too,” Tate adds. Not the shy one, I notice, and a little husky. Maybe even the class clown. His wavy auburn hair flips over his ears and his eyes are the color of dark honey. And from the size of him I believe he can kick some serious ass.

“Aye, and it’s been quiet for a while. Until you showed up,” Rhine says. “Fancy that.”

There’s silence as Rhine and I hold a stare-down. His gaze is locked on to mine. “You think we’re killers?” I ask.

Rhine doesn’t hesitate. “You’d be dead as dust if we did.”

There’s a little tension in the room. More from me than anyone else, I imagine. I don’t like a threat. I don’t like a pack of young human hunters sniffing us out, either. I guess I’d been so consumed with Eli and the female, and the other killings, that I’d totally misjudged Rhine and his friends. Even more so than simply thinking they were thugs.

They’re goddamn hunters.

I’m staring at Rhine, still trying to wrap my brain around it all, when Noah speaks.

“We don’t have time to babysit,” he says.

Just that fast, Rhine whips out a silver blade and is holding it against Noah’s throat. The others all have similar blades in the hands.

What the hell?

I’ll give Noah Miles some cred. He doesn’t morph. He remains totally calm. But I can see inside his head. Ri, this little prick has a fucking silver blade at my neck. Wanna get him off?

Yeah, I’ll get him off, Miles. Gotta hand it to him, though. He’s pretty quick. Might use him and the guys after all. And he’s not so little.

Get him off now, Poe. I don’t want to have to kill him.

I focus on Rhine, then the guys. Drop your silver, boys.

The clap of blades hitting the hardwood floor resounds in the room. Noah moves to stand beside me. It all happens so fast the guys’ puzzled faces are almost comical.

Rhine gives me a nod. “Aye, like I said. You’re somethin’ altogether different, lass.” He shrugs at Noah. “No hard feelin’s? Was just provin’ my worth, ya ken?”

Noah returns the nod in silence beside me. I cock my head, studying the guys. “What I don’t ken is what makes you think we aren’t the bad guys.”

Rhine smiles. It’s a lazy, sexy expression that I’m sure brings many a young girl to her knees. “Because you”—he casts a glance at Noah—“and he don’t add up. No’ tae mention what happened at the club. You both saved a score of humans, whilst those other two bloodsuckers escaped. And I can sense it.” He inhales, exhales. “So do ya want our help? Or are we wastin’ our time here?”

I glance up at Noah, and he gives a slight nod. I move across the room and stand directly in front of Rhine. His eyes flash interest, and strangely enough, I detect no fear. Not one ounce. I don’t know if that’s good or bad. I’ve got to know more. We can’t have their young mortal lives balancing in our hands, especially when I don’t know what the hell is going on with my own psyche. I’m as unstable as Eli. With my gaze fastened on his, I grasp his hand and hold it between both of mine. His pupils dilate, just a fraction. Then I close my eyes.

I stand in a dank brick courtyard amid tall oaks and overgrown shrubs. A stone apartment complex rises before me. A window on the second floor is open, and a ripped curtain hangs in the gaping hole. No lights are on. I can’t tell what time of day it is; no sun, no shadows. Just murky gray. A light rain falls. Shouting falls from the open window, and a thick, heavy accent trails out.

“Ya fookin’ loser!” The sound of fist connecting to bone rings out, and a slight whimpered growl follows it. “I told ya tae give me all o’ it! Dunnae ya hide the quid from me, boy!” Another punch. Another growl. “What do ya have tae say for your pathetic self? Pathetic, aye, just like your fookin’ useless mother!” A slap this time, and another. Another. A scream this time. A woman’s scream. Laughter. “Och, boy, you dinnae like your whore mum tae be slapped, aye? Too fookin’ bad, then.” Slap.

I can move, and I race toward the doorway leading into the apartment. Inside, the stairwell is cold and smelly, and I creep up the steps to the next floor. I open the door and move into a hallway lit by a single bare bulb at the end of a corridor. Beneath my feet, ratty red-and-blue-plaid carpeting. Three doors to my left, I stop and listen. The door is cracked, and I step inside.

The moment I’m inside, I see Rhine. He’s kneeling beside a woman, lying on the floor. Rhine looks a little younger than he is now. Maybe fifteen. His hair is longer, and it curls at his ears, the nape of his neck. He has a huge red welt across his porcelain cheek, and one eye is swollen and blackened, and his nose is bleeding. His lip is split and bleeding. He looks a goddamn mess.

All from the hands of his father. I know it’s his father. Rhine looks exactly like him, only his father is older, bigger, meaner. And drunk as hell. Holy shit.

Rhine is comforting his mother, who’s whimpering, sobbing. He’s shielding her from the hands of his abusive dad. God, I hate abuse. In any form.

Rhine’s father grabs him by the back of his hair and hauls him off his mother. I stare at Rhine’s face, and it’s awash with so many emotions; I feel each one. Fear. Hatred. Love. Loathing. Pain. His father yanks his head back and turns him, slamming the young Rhine against the wall. The older man holds him there by his throat.

“You dinna fook wi’ me, lad,” he says. “I’ll kill you and that whore on the floor.”

Rage illuminates Rhine’s green eyes. Just as a burst of energy surges out of him, and he uses all of his young might to throw his father off him, a figure moving so fast I almost don’t notice it hovers over the woman on the floor. He stands there, looking down, and I can only see the back of him. Tall. Broad shoulders. Dark blond hair, long, tied back.

And pulseless.

I blink. A vampire?

“What the fook are ya doin’ in my house?” Rhine’s dad yells. He shoves Rhine down and faces the newcomer. Rhine scrambles to his mom, grabs her by the shoulders, and helps her up. Rhine’s father is a big guy—easily six feet five—and the vampire is eye to eye with him. Then the drunken man glances at Rhine and his mom, then back to the vampire. He throws back his head and laughs. “Och, you fookin’ that whore? You fancy that, aye?” He laughs again, and the vampire remains silent. “You best check your cock, make sure it hasna rotted off—”

The drunk man’s words die in his throat as the vampire lunges, morphs, and piranha-like fangs drop jagged from his gums. Without a single sound, he clamps down on the man’s jugular, shakes his head a time or two, and Rhine’s father’s head comes clean off. The vampire spits it out and it rolls across the floor and stops an inch from my feet. Widened eyes filled with frozen disbelief stare up at me. Blood oozes from the torn ligaments and flesh. I fight the urge to throw up. The rest of the body on the floor begins to quake, convulse.

Rhine’s mother screams; Rhine throws his arms around her and pulls her face to his chest, guarding and shielding her, and she sobs against her son. Those haunting green eyes of his stare at the vampire, who’s now completely changed back. I can feel the pounding of Rhine’s heart as he battles his fears, and as adrenaline charges through his veins, it also rushes through mine. The vampire crosses the room and stops a foot in front of Rhine. For the first time, he speaks. I can see his face now. Chiseled jaw. Straight nose. Long lashes. Gray eyes.

“I’m sorry I had to do that,” the vampire says. “I had no choice.”

His accent is . . . not Scottish. It’s something else. Not English. Not Irish. Something I can’t place.