“Our fangs behave like needles,” Roland murmured. “They draw blood directly into our veins and can also do the opposite, infusing one of our brethren with blood if he’s been sorely wounded and is in need.”
One of our brethren. “Y-You have fangs, too?”
“Yes. As does Nick.”
“No, he doesn’t.” She would’ve seen them if he did. She would’ve felt them when they kissed.
“They’re retractable.”
Of course they were.
Her fractured thoughts tried to piece themselves back together but instead just kept rebounding off each other and bouncing around inside her skull.
Roland gently pried the knife from her hand and set it on the counter. “You knew Nick was different before this.”
She nodded numbly. She’d known he was fast and strong and healed quickly… unless someone shot him full of bullets. But the shape-shifting? And the fangs?
Roland backed away from her, placing some distance between them and keeping his body between her and the knives. “He’s still Nick, Kayla. He’s still the man you knew yesterday and the day before and the day before that. He’s just a little more different than you thought.”
She released a choked laugh that sounded disturbingly close to a sob. “Just a little, huh?”
He sighed. “I’m sure he didn’t want you to find out this way. I’m sure he sought a… gentler way to explain it.”
She glanced up at him. “And what way might that be?”
“I don’t know.” He shook his head as he watched Marcus and Nick. “But it isn’t an easy thing to confess when one’s differences are so great.” His expression and the sorrow in his voice reminded her of Nick just then. “My first wife drove a dagger into my heart after I told her.”
Her eyes widened.
“Hundreds of years later when I found another woman I thought I could spend my life with and shared my secret again, my betrothed betrayed me. Within hours, she and her family tried to kill me.”
Shit.
He shook his head. “I thought no woman would ever accept me for who and what I am until I met my Sarah.” He motioned to Nick and Marcus. “All this came as a shock to her, too. But she saw past it to who I am and… loved me anyway.” His lips turned up slightly at the corners. “Still does.”
Marcus released Nick’s wrist and sat back. “I don’t think it was your fangs or your gift that frightened the others away. I think your being an antisocial, curmudgeonly arse did it.”
Roland laughed. “Perhaps.” His expression sobered when he looked down at Kayla. “But such is rare in this world—people viewing us as men rather than monsters.”
As Kayla stared down at Nick, a snippet of the conversation they’d shared the day of her accident returned to her.
You don’t want to forget, he’d said, his voice deep and husky and flavored with a hint of disbelief she hadn’t fully acknowledged at the time.
I don’t want to forget, she had assured him. But someone in your past did. Someone rejected you because of who and what you are.
And he’d nodded.
Who? she’d asked.
Almost everyone I’ve ever loved.
Kayla swallowed hard past the lump in her throat.
She wouldn’t do that to him.
She couldn’t do that to him.
She loved him too much.
Crossing to Nick, she sank to her knees beside him once more and took his hand.
When Marcus rose, he reeled backward.
Roland swore and leapt to his side, steadying him. “You gave him too much blood.”
Marcus shook his head. “He needed it.”
Nick sighed and shifted, then stiffened. His eyes flew open. His fingers clamped down around hers. He met her gaze, looked down at his bare, bloody body, peered up at Roland and Marcus—who still bore fangs—then searched her face. His Adam’s apple bobbed in a hard swallow. “If I turn back into a cat, is there any chance you might forget whatever the hell you just saw?”
Kayla laughed, then bit her lip and burst into tears.
Alarm filled his handsome features as he hastily sat up.
Lunging forward, she wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his neck. Sobs wrenched themselves from her chest.
Nick closed his arms around her and stroked her hair. “Shhhh. It’s okay,” he murmured. “It’s okay.”
But it wasn’t. She had almost lost him.
“It’s okay, sweetheart.” He pressed a kiss to her hair. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
Roland cleared his throat. “I’m going to take Marcus next door and get him some blood. I assume you keep some on hand?”
Nick’s chin bumped the top of her head when he nodded. “In the usual place.”
“Do you know why those men attacked you?”
“No. They were waiting in my house when I got home. You’ll find five there, all down. I followed the sixth into Kayla’s yard. He’s over on the other side of her house.”
“No worries. We’ll take him to your place, then call the network and see if they can help us sort it out.”
“Thank you. Both of you.”
Footsteps retreated. Her back door opened and closed.
Quiet descended as Nick held Kayla.
Even the jackwad two blocks over had stopped blasting music.
A throat cleared, drawing his attention to Kayla’s abandoned cell phone.
Oliver shook his head. “I knew I shouldn’t have taken a vacation. You okay, man?”
Nick glanced down at Kayla, who wept against his bare chest, then slowly shook his head. Hell no, he wasn’t okay. “Yeah. I’m fine.”
Oliver nodded, understanding. “Listen, I’m going to cut my vacation short and—”
“No, you’re not.” Nick knew the rules. He knew Seconds were supposed to protect their immortals at any cost. And he knew they took that shit seriously and wouldn’t hesitate to sacrifice their lives to save those of their immortals.
More than one of Nick’s Seconds had died while protecting him in the past. He didn’t want a repeat of that. And Oliver had already almost died backing him up at the damn base they’d blitzed.
“You’re going to stay right where you are and fucking relax,” Nick ordered. “I can handle this.”
“You don’t even know what the hell this is,” Oliver countered.
“But I survived it.”
“By passing out, buck naked and bleeding, on Kayla’s floor.”
Irritation rose. “You heard Marcus. They’re going to call the network in on this. Just stay put until we hear what they have to say about it.”
Oliver stared at him for a long moment. Glancing away, he began to fiddle with something Nick couldn’t see. “Fuck that. I’m on my way.” Then he held up a white sheet of paper with words scrawled across it.
YOU AREN’T THE ONLY ONE WHO NEEDS PROTECTING.
Nick’s chest tightened. Oliver was right. What would’ve happened if he hadn’t caught that last attacker? Nick had already been weakened from blood loss when he gave chase. What if he’d collapsed before he even reached the fence? What would have happened to Kayla if that bastard had kicked in her damn door and charged inside?