Her breaths sat high on her chest. She needed to know something important—whether she could be with this man, this vampire, and not hurt him. The level of his powers gave her hope, but could he handle who she was?

She put her hand back on his arm and watched his lips part and his chest rise. He turned to meet her gaze. She overlaid his mind with a question. Would you do me a favor?

He didn’t hesitate, not for a second, as he sent, Anything, beautiful one.

What a perfect response.

Aloud, she asked, “Would you kiss me, Kerrick?”

A dream brought to life is more precious than gold,

But beware the price.

—Collected Proverbs, Beatrice of Fourth

Chapter 10

Thorne whipped his phone from the pocket of his kilt, ran his thumb over the strip, then wiped his forehead with his arm. The sweat ran. As it should. He’d been battling on and off for hours. His muscles twitched, a couple of them screaming for relief.

“Central.”

“Hey, Jeannie. We’ve got a mess for you to clean up at the Superstitions.” He stood with his back to a wall of cliffs. The land in front of him was lit by starlight and strewn with unfriendly cacti and the bodies and feathered debris of slain enemy … the usual.

Luken sat nearby, his hands planted in the dirt behind him, which enabled him to lean back. Horace tended a deep sword cut on his thigh. The warrior didn’t flinch as the healer held the wound closed and murmured soft prayer-like intonations. Jesus, that had to hurt.

“How many, duhuro?” Jeannie asked.

“Hey, what’s with you and the duhuro shit?” His hands shook and he felt like his entire chest cavity was on fire.

Jeannie chuckled. “Just showin’ the love, boss.”

“Yeah, but you haven’t used that expression in, what, the last how many years? What gives?”

“Thought it needed a comeback.”

“You know what Medichi says, don’t you?”

“About duhuro? Yeah. He says it means ‘slave’ but we know different.”

“Whatever.” But he laughed.

Jeannie’s throaty chuckle rippled through the line as well. What would they do without the women at Central?

“By the way, why are you still working?” He glanced down and kicked at a small rock.

“Carla had a date.”

“That Militia Warrior again?” His gaze scanned the horizon, ever-seeking. Dawn, unfortunately, was still a couple of hours away, and since death vamps preferred to hunt at night he’d be stuck out here for a while.

“Yeah. She’s really into him. He’s six-four, two sixty, all muscle, just like you warriors.”

“Well, you just make sure he treats her right. If he doesn’t, you know where to find me.”

He heard a very deep sigh. “Aye-aye, duhuro. So, what kind of numbers are we talkin’ about at the Superstitions right now?”

“Twenty-three.”

“Holy shit. At least you got ’em all.”

“Amen to that.” Sweat once more rolled down his face, dribbled off his nose. He folded a washcloth from his house in Sedona Two and scrubbed his face. “Luken got sliced across his left quad. I had to bring Horace in to do his healing magic.”

“Ouch. Tell him to feel better.”

Thorne just grunted. He heard a series of taps on the screen, then Jeannie came back on line. “Cover your peepers.”

Thorne called out to Luken and Horace, who both closed their eyes. A flash of light and this time a faint rumbling. Twenty-three was a big number.

When the light disappeared, Thorne looked around. All the carnage had vanished. Thank God for technology. It wasn’t so long ago he and Luken would have spent part of each night doing the large folding work themselves, which wasn’t too bad. But on-the-ground debris work was one helluva job: dropped weapons, body parts, feathers, you name it.

For some reason his knees went watery and he sat down on the ground. “Thanks, Jeannie.”

“You headed over to the Convent later?”

“What do you mean?” How does she know?

“You always do about dawn.”

“I do?” Jesus. Had he been so obvious? He needed to break up his routine, although the thought of anything preventing him from going where he needed to go tied his stomach into a double knot. A visit to the Convent had become part of his survival strategy.

“Hey. Everyone knows you’re worried about your sister. How’s she doin’?”

Oh, yeah. His sister. “She’s the same. Excessively devoted.”

“Convent,” Jeannie murmured. He could feel her shudder.

“I hear ya. Horace is just about finished. Holler if you need me.”

“Always do.”

Thorne thumbed his phone and remained sitting on the ground, his forearms resting on bent knees, his leather kilt hanging low. He reached out with his senses, but didn’t detect any shift in the airwaves or cooling of temps. He sniffed the air. Only the sharp smell of the desert returned.

He glanced at the tall, thin healer, his head bent over Luken’s thigh, his hand on the wound, his brow furrowed. A faint glow emanated from the area he worked. Luken leaned back on his palms, his expression disinterested. After a few centuries, what was one deep cut? After all, the artery hadn’t been hit.

“How you doin’, Luken?”

“What? Oh, fine. I was just thinking how beautiful the desert is at night. Just listen to the quiet, and shit, those stars are something else. You don’t see them like that near the city. And I love the smell. Like sage, I guess.”

Leave it Luken to marvel at the work of the Creator after having been flayed like a fish.

A few seconds more and Horace drew upright. Luken rose to his feet as well, shook out both legs, then stomped around. “Horace, you are a fucking genius.” He faced the healer then clamped his hands on both shoulders. “As always, thank you, my man.”

Horace looked up at him and smiled. “My pleasure.” When Luken’s arms returned to his sides, Horace bowed, an absurd sign of respect, which the warriors couldn’t seem to train him out of. He bowed to Thorne as well, lifted an arm, then vanished.

Luken moved to stand in front of Thorne. “Jefe?”

“Yeah?” Thorne looked up. Luken’s legs and shin guards were spattered with blood. He rubbed his hand along the scar by his thumb, savoring the feel of the ridges, thankful he still had all five digits intact.

Luken shook his head. “Twenty-three of those bastards and I almost bought it.”

Thorne’s throat tightened. “I know.”

“Thanks for having my back.”

Thorne just shook his head. The interior of his chest still burned like a sonofabitch. He wanted his Ketel. Now.

* * *

Kerrick looked into blue eyes, which were little more than a soft glitter in the darkened car. The smell of lavender rushed at him, bathed him, worked his senses into a frenzy.

So she wanted him to kiss her. She wanted to open that door.

Goddamn breh-hedden.

His vows rushed at him and his heart pitched south. Memories ripped through him, of a lost village twelve hundred years ago, of Marta, his first wife, and her torn-up, drained body. Fast-forward several centuries—Helena and their two children vaporized in an explosion. And during all those twelve hundred years, he had battled with a sword every day and every day he took life again and again. Christ. Before the sun had even set this evening he’d battled four death vamps and sent them to perdition.

“I kill, Alison. That’s what I do.”

He heard her heart rate increase. She couldn’t disguise such a reaction, and still she said, “You are a warrior.”

He nodded. “I am a warrior. I’ve also taken vows. I will not marry again.”

He heard a slight intake of breath then a slow release of air. “I never thought to marry in the course of my life.” Her voice was little more than a whisper.

He turned toward her, shifting in the too small seat. “Why not?”

“I hurt a man once. I…” She lifted her chin. “I almost killed him.”

He checked the growl forming in his throat. “Did he hurt you? Was that why?”

She shook her head then winced. “He got hurt because of who I am. When I asked you to kiss me, I wanted to know if—” She looked away.

“You’re worried you’ll hurt me.”

She nodded and her gaze fell to her lap. “I know what it is to take a vow. It’s just that it would be really nice … once … to know I could kiss a man, be with a man without hurting him.”

“You wouldn’t hurt me,” he stated.

“So you say.”

He really shouldn’t open this door. His vows spun around in his head, slamming against the inside of his skull, but she was next to him and she had said words he said to himself. They get hurt because of who I am.

Jesus. He knew exactly how she felt.

He struggled to remember all the reasons to refuse her. He knew the right reasons were there, he just couldn’t find his rational thoughts, not one of them. Besides, he wanted to do this for her. He wanted her to know that although many things had been impossible for her here on Mortal Earth, it was only because she needed to ascend, to be with a man on Second Earth, someone like him, a powerful vampire who could take all she had to give.

The thought of all her power did him in, what it would be like to have her under him, to be connected to her, his cock buried deep, his fangs in her neck, his mind drifting through hers. He wanted it all.

He sent the question softly into her mind, You sure about this?

Uh-huh, she responded, her telepathic abilities just about perfect. “We could start with one kiss,” she suggested, “and if it doesn’t work out…”

Like hell it won’t work out.

She sighed. That’s what I’m hoping.

He turned toward her. His rib cage hit the steering wheel. He could hardly move his knees, the car was so damn small.