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  “I don’t know where my cane is, so I can’t stake you.” She jumped to her feet, but Pallas blocked her path. She couldn’t see past his back. “Get out of my way.”

  Pallas glanced over his shoulder at her with an icy glare. Half-healed bruises and cuts marred his rugged face. He’d taken those injuries for her.

  She cleared her throat. “Please.” Daedalus wouldn’t hurt her, but she wasn’t so sure about Pallas. Funny how her fury was focused on the one person who loved her unconditionally. That was what hurt her the most. She had trusted Daedalus.

  The tight ball of rage inside of her kept exploding each time her gaze landed on him. With him in the room, she couldn’t think straight. “You need to leave.” She dropped her head in her hands. “I need to clear my head.”

  She listened to the creak of metal and leather as he moved toward the door.

  “Pallas, stay with her.”

  “No.” She refused to look at either of them. An odd shame tore her apart. “Out, both of you.” She understood Daedalus had turned her because he couldn’t let her go. She’d often feared he’d do this, especially after the stroke, but when she’d had the cardiac arrest in the ICU, Spice told her Daedalus hadn’t attempted to change her.

  She cringed. He hadn’t the means to change her at the time. He needed another vampire to do it for him. Was that truly the reason why she had remained human and why he’d been so adamant about Clementine moving in with them afterwards?

  The ache in her chest grew so strong she wanted to vomit. Could a vampire die of a broken heart? She’d soon find out.

  Daedalus’s heavy footfalls followed Pallas.

  She twisted in time to meet her lover’s gaze before he left the room. “You’ll need to feed soon,” he said, then closed the door.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Sugar stared at nothing. Feed? As in bite into a person and suck their blood? It had taken her some time to find the courage to allow Daedalus to drink from her. This would be another hurdle for her to overcome. How many would life toss at her before it would leave her alone? Living with shifters, vampire boyfriend, stroke and now this.

  What should she do? She couldn’t make Daedalus take it back. If she called Spice, her twin would jump in her car with the pup and come straight here. Part of Sugar yearned for her strong comfort. Her sister would take charge and make things better fast. The other part of Sugar knew her sister and the pup would be placed in danger by coming here. Daedalus may have killed the traitors he knew of, but if experience had taught Sugar anything, it was that more would be lurking in the shadows.

  She had to deal with being a vampire on her own. She shifted her gaze from the door to her body—her whole and completely functional body. With a hesitant step, she twirled in spot on her tiptoes. A small giggle escaped her lips. She hadn’t allowed herself to imagine walking, let alone dancing again. If she had survived a shifter attack and a stroke, she would survive this.

  But this wasn’t about survival. She caught her image in the mirror over the dresser and crossed to it. The woman in the mirror was her. The real her. The one before the attack and pain and horror. A little paler, but the droopy lip was gone. This was about getting her life back.

  She tore off her negligée.

  “Whoa.” The sharp edges of her ribs no longer showed. Even the hint of roundness of her lower abdomen had returned. She did a slow turn. Damn, she’d missed looking healthy. Daedalus never made her feel ugly, but she knew she had changed.

  She ran her hands over her breasts and cupped their heaviness. Welcome back, girls.

  A gasp cracked the silence in the bedroom. Daedalus stood in the doorway, a goblet in his hands. “I brought you something from my supply.” He kicked the door closed and set the cup on the closest table.

  “I said I needed some time alone.” She covered her bare breasts, and the heartbeat that seemed nonexistent a moment ago suddenly raced into action once more.

  “Can’t I at least watch?” He raised an eyebrow and strolled around her, his gaze wandering slowly over her flesh, not leaving an inch unchecked. “Damn.”

  “Why did I change back to the way I was? I thought vampires stayed stuck as what we were as human.”

  He shook his head. “The virus heals all damaged cells. They make you the best that your DNA can manage.” An appreciative noise rolled in his throat.

  Shivers of anticipation ran over her spine. It warred with her anger. “No.”

  “Yes.” He brushed his fingertips over her upper arm.

  Goose bumps formed on her traitorous skin. A rush of desire flooded her body like nothing she’d experienced since she’d first laid eyes on him. The cold wood of the dresser pressed against her ass. She’d backed into it in her unnoticed retreat.

  Setting his hands on her hips, he lifted her to sit on the cool surface.

  “What are you doing?”

  “You should ask what I don’t have planned.” He knelt and put her legs over his shoulders, letting her feet dangle against his back. Gentle as butterfly wings, he kissed her inner thighs, tracing a line toward her pussy.

  A deep ache grew in her lower abdomen. She gripped the dresser and spread her legs wider. She should have pushed him away. Instead she surrendered.

  He ran the sharp edge of his fangs over the delicate tissue.

  She drew a sharp intake of breath at the sting.

  Daedalus slid his finger inside her pussy while his gaze traveled to meet hers. “You’re wet.” A smug grin spread across his face.

  “Fucker.” She snarled the insult.

  “Oh, I plan to be exactly that.” His smile grew wider. “You forget who I am.”

  “I don’t think I ever truly knew who you are.”

  He pumped his finger inside of her using a hard, fast stroke. “That’s not true and you know it.”

  She groaned and arched into the motion.

  The soft touch of his tongue contrasted the steady pounding. He circled her bud, slowly torturing her.

  Curling her toes against his back, she lifted her hips, giving him better access.

  A low chuckle vibrated her oversensitive clit. He ran his tongue over it before sucking it into his mouth.

  She cried out at the sudden sensation of jagged pleasure and cracked her head against the mirror when she flung it back. The pain didn’t register. She wanted this so badly. Yes, Daedalus had made love to her the other night, but she desired something more. She craved sweat and grunts, to dig her nails into his hard muscles, for him to lose control and take from her what he wanted.

  With a possessive growl, he latched on to her clitoris, sending wave upon wave of ecstasy through that nerve bundle.

  “Daedalus.” His name fell from her lips involuntarily as the climax crashed over her.

  ***

  The sound of his name from Sugar was the sweetest song to Daedalus's ears. She might hate him, but he’d win her back. Her body remembered his. This was a small victory, but a victory nonetheless.

  His hard cock throbbed against the confines of his jeans. It wanted release from the rough material and to find soothing relief inside her wet pussy. He trembled. She’d be so tight.

  Rising to his feet, he guided her limp legs around his waist.

  She leaned against the mirror, a thin sheen of sweat covering her skin. With her fist, she knocked the metal plate on his chest. “Still afraid I’ll stake you?”

  He unclipped his armor, desperate for her touch. His safety be damned. It clattered at his feet, followed by his shirt.

  Sugar bit her bottom lip as her hungry stare traveled over his chest. A hum of satisfaction purred in her throat.

  Unbelievably, his cock grew harder, aching for liberation. He ran his hands over her torso until he cupped her glorious tits. Kneading them, he enjoyed the heavy softness in his palms.

  He bent and kissed the closest one while grinding against her.

  "Stop.”

  “No.” He pinched her nipples until she moaned, arching int
o his touch.

  With a smooth motion, she twisted and elbowed him in the chin. “I’m still angry.”

  He licked the trickle of blood on his lip. “I’d be disappointed if you weren’t.” As soon as the words left him, he realized he spoke the truth. He wanted her fury. For her to be filled with passion and full of life.

  After unzipping his jeans, he pulled out his cock. “Show me how angry.” He gripped her hips and thrust inside her. The secret muscles of her pussy squeezed tight, and his knees almost buckled at the onslaught of his passion.

  Her fists beat on his chest, yet her ankles dragged him closer. “I hate you.”

  He shoved deeper and moaned. “I know.”

  She grasped his shoulders and climbed into his arms, sliding down him even further until she rested against the root of his shaft.

  “Oh, baby.” He pressed her against the wall and hammered into her, unable to control his zeal anymore. His jeans fell to his ankles, and he kicked them off, never breaking his desperate rhythm.

  She dug her nails into his back and clung, her breathing hard and hot by his ear.

  After so many months of celibacy, how could he be expected to resist her? When he’d walked in and found her naked, he could have cried his praise to whatever god had granted him his most coveted wish.

  A sting in his neck caught his breath. His balls clenched at the pull of her mouth on his skin.

  “Oh fuck yes,” he cried out as she bit deeper with her delicate little fangs.

  He thrust in and in and in, losing control.

  It didn’t seem like it would ever end. His vision blurred, and he had to brace his legs against the wall as he pounded harder. All he could articulate were animalistic grunts as her climax clutched her muscles like a vise around his shaft.

  He arched his body against hers, spilling his seed into her hot pussy, unable to utter a sound since the pleasure stole all his words.

  She melted into his arms, resting her head on his shoulder.

  He hugged her tight and slid to the floor, landing on his knees. His heart soared at what they'd just shared. Sugar might be filled with anger, but not hate. He knew her too well. She'd never have let him touch her if that were true. “I’ll make this up to you somehow.”

  “This was a good start.” She crawled out of his arms, breaking their contact. “But I don’t see how we can ever rebuild what we had.”

  He didn’t either, but there had to be a way. Right?

  “I’m taking a shower.” She clung to the dresser to catch her balance. Male satisfaction warmed his chest as she wobbled in the direction of the bathroom, until his gaze rested on the full goblet he’d brought for her. Her weakness was from lack of blood, not incredible sex, dumbass.

  “Wait.” He offered her her first meal of human blood. It came from his storage that he'd brought with him from Chicago. The flavor wasn’t the same as fresh, but she wouldn’t know the difference yet. “I didn’t think you’d want to shop for donors tonight.”

  She faced him. Her stare focused on the cup, and she licked her lips. “I—I don’t want to drink it.”

  He frowned. “You know better. What happens if a vampire gets too hungry?” They’d been together long enough for her to know about everything vampire. She’d been his main source of nutrition for years and understood the cardinal rules of feeding.

  Turning her shoulder, she blocked the view of the cup.

  “You have the biggest stubborn streak I’ve ever encountered, but refusing to drink is dangerous. When the hunger hits, and it will, what will happen? I have no humans in the mansion for you to use. Will you feed from a neighbor? Accidently kill someone’s wife or child?” It was a rough speech, but an important one. The first rule a vampire learned was how to control the bloodlust.

  With a good teacher, a fledgling vampire never had to take a life. He hoped to be such a mentor for her.

  She glanced back at him and her meal.

  Before she could deny him, he slid the cup under her nose, knowing instinct would grip her.

  Clasping it, she took a tentative sip and closed her eyes. Her hands shook, and she almost spilled it as she tilted the cup higher, taking large gulps.

  He steadied her hold. “Easy. It’s all for you. There’s more if you need it.”

  She tipped the goblet up until it emptied of the last drops then handed the vessel to him and clutched her stomach.

  “You might get cramps for a few weeks until your system adjusts. Taking small doses will help keep it manageable.” He reached for her, but she retreated from his touch and wouldn’t look at him.

  “If I’m at risk for losing control, you should send the Vasi away.” She hugged herself.

  He resisted the urge to cradle her in his arms. She always strove for independence, and it seemed he kept taking it away. “I already have.”

  She nodded, a sad look in her eyes.

  “It’s not like we’ll never go back to Chicago. You just need time to adjust.” He moved so she’d have to see him. “Clementine stayed to help.”

  Her gaze darted to meet his, then away again. “Really?”

  He dipped his chin in agreement.

  “So I’m not alone?”

  Sharp and burning, her question stabbed into his heart with more power than a wooden stake. How could she feel like this when he stood a few inches from her? She'd never suffer loneliness as long as blood coursed through his veins. Their definitions of company obviously weren't the same.

  Tugging on his jeans, he struggled to keep his gaze off her. “I’ll send her in.” His words came out clipped. He deserved her scorn. Didn’t mean it hurt any less. He grabbed his armor and T-shirt.

  “What are you doing tonight?” she called out.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Daedalus halted at their bedroom door. “I need to contact my nest and those still loyal to me. I need to confirm that I have returned to my place as Prime before rumors start spreading.” He wore a mask of cold indifference, resembling Pallas and making it difficult for Sugar to discern what he was thinking.

  She had hurt his feelings. It didn’t take a genius to see this. She wrapped her arms around her chest, hoping to ease the sudden ache inside. Why did she care? He deserved whatever pain she could inflict, but she couldn’t erase years of love in one night. Not for what he’d done or why he’d done it. Her hand traveled to her throat of its own accord, and she yanked it away. “Who was the vampire who attacked me?”

  “One of the traitors.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Did he have a name?”

  He frowned. “Why?”

  “I think I have a right to know who—who did this to me.” She pointed at her fangs. Maybe it would help to know her murderer.

  “Tom.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Just Tom?” Why was he so resistant to tell her?

  “Thomas Carignan. He’d been in my service for two hundred years and was someone I considered a friend. If I’d known he was capable of hurting someone I loved, I would have torn him in half and fed him to some stray dogs.” He spun about and slammed the door shut.

  A void sucked the warmth from the room. The click of the knob echoed in the bedroom, which had just been filled with the noise of their passion.

  She blinked. “Oh.” Her murderer had been his friend. Someone he once cared for. When he called them traitors, she’d thought he meant they betrayed the company, not him personally, but Pal Robi Inc. was Daedalus Pal Robi. Wasn’t it? It was funny how they needed to yell and hurt each other to communicate. A truce seemed distant, if not impossible. She nodded to herself.

  Shivers ran over her flesh. This was a second chance that most couples never got. Things like how excited she’d been when her fangs pierced his skin or how great the blood had tasted rolling over her parched tongue shouldn’t bother her. She glared at her reflection. Right?

  She snatched her shoe by the bed and aimed it at the mirror. How many did she have to break before being able to meet her own stare? She d
ropped the projectile and raced to the showers. Turning on the hot water, she filled the room with steam so she couldn’t see anymore. The shivers melted under the assault of the stinging water, and she leaned against the tile, absorbing the heat.

  The Sugar she used to be was no longer part of her, but she had started to fade away long before Daedalus changed her fate. No, not Daedalus, Thomas was the one who killed her. Daedalus had tried to save her the only way he knew how.

  The conversation she'd shared with Pallas while watching television haunted her. The way she treated him, without a good measure of healthy fear, was an excellent example of how much she’d grown accustom to vampires and shifters. Of how much she’d changed.

  Did she even have any human friends left? Ever since being in the hospital, she hadn’t been able to return to work in the public libraries. None of her coworkers visited anymore. Even the Vasi considered her pack, though not an ounce of shifter blood ran in her veins.

  She stared at her fisted hands. Being a vampire didn’t mean she needed to go out and kill a village. When she’d smelled the blood in the cup, the urge to hunt hadn’t taken control. Hunger had, but she’d been hungry like that as human and had pounced on a hot fudge sundae with more viciousness than the blood in the cup.

  The stroke had changed her perception of who she was. Maybe being a vampire would help claim back who she once had been.

  She dried off and dressed.

  Someone knocked on the door. It was too light for a Nosferatu’s big fist.

  “Come in, Clementine.”

  The tall vampire peeked inside, her gaze growing guarded at the sight of Sugar's attire. “You look like you’re going to a funeral.” Crossing the room, Clementine took her hands within her grasp. “How are you feeling?”

  Sugar had dressed in all black for a reason. The clothes clung to her body since she’d put on some healthy weight with the change. “Pissed off, disoriented, and—and motivated.” She could walk and dance, maybe even run. The grim reaper wasn't her shadow anymore.

  “Understandable.” Clementine hesitated and gave her a shy smile. “You’re beautiful.” Then she cleared her throat. “I mean, I never knew you before the accident. Your transformation is amazing. Daedalus must have seen you by now.”