"Jacob-"

"As always," he interrupted, his dark eyes glittering with hard inevitability, "my target seeks to cajole and argue his way out of the truth."

"Damn you, Jacob!" Noah exploded, his temper unleashing like a whip. "What of Leah? Corrine? They are abused by me, yet you do not claim justice for them. If you will not, then I will do so myself!"

"Not at the cost of another's safety and wellness, you won't!"

Noah started when Corrine's outraged cry penetrated the hall. She marched out of the shadows, making Noah realize how tired he must truly be if he had not sensed her there. The redhead came at him in a fury, even going so far as to poke an indignant finger into his chest once she reached him.

"How dare you use my name in an excuse that will cause a Druid to suffer the way I did! You think it's noble and self-sacrificing, what you're doing? To starve her? To neglect her? Selfish bastard," she growled. "You know nothing about me if you think this would make me feel like justice is being served." That said, Corrine took a long breath and reined in her outrage. She was still holding herself stiffly, but otherwise she softened, assuming the demeanor that would most make an impression on his beleaguered mind.

"Noah," she said gently, reaching to touch a gentle hand to his forearm, "you're paralyzed. You're unable to move, think, or sleep. You do nothing because you're afraid that if you act you will cause more pain. I understand your fear, Noah. You've hurt those you love, and that is very hard for a man of your honor to bear. But you need to let it go. Let yourself be imperfect, allow for mistakes. Put the past aside and look toward all the futures you hold in your hands. Not just Kestra's, but all of us. How long will our King survive without his mate? I refuse to believe that you're going to sacrifice your entire race over a single act of understandable desperation.

"Just go to her. Do what you do best. Be wise, patient, and loving, and be her guide into our world." Corrine suddenly gave him a cockeyed grin. "And if that don't work, bean her over the head and drag her back by her hair."

"Corrine!" Noah burst out laughing when she made a wicked face of lechery to go with the outrageous proposal.

Jacob sighed heavily, rolling his eyes. Some things, he thought, just run in the family. "And she was doing so well for a second there," he said dryly.

"C'mon, Noah. If I can forgive you, then you can do the same," Corrine urged him, patently ignoring Jacob. "At least I understand what happened and why. But Kestra doesn't. She needs you to explain why this is happening to her and to make it a safe and healthy transition."

Noah wasn't unused to being humbled. He had two sisters who had made an art form of keeping him grounded. However, Corrine snapped him into awareness like no one else could have. She corrected him without trying to humiliate him, clearing his exhausted mind for what seemed like the first time in days. Whether he forgave himself for past behaviors or not, she was right about Kestra. She was an entirely separate issue and he was being injudicious with her needs.

"You are right. You are both right," he said at last, releasing a wry laugh as he reached to slide a finger of affectionate appreciation down Corrine's smooth cheek. "I have no idea what I was thinking." The King shook his head with puzzlement at his own behavior. "I need to find her." He looked to the Earth Demon he knew was the best tracker in their world. "Jacob, would it cause a family war if I asked for your help?"

"Please," Jacob chuckled wryly. "Bella cannot possibly be any angrier with me than she already is."

"I'll take bets on that one," Bella's sister said with a chuckle.

Noah chucked his Matchmaker beneath the chin gently, a silent thank-you that made her smile with pleasure. Then he promptly morphed into smoke so he could follow the stream of dust that was already heading out of the window ahead of him.

"Cygnus?"

"Eh?"

The eldest of the small group of Vampires turned to face the youngest, who also happened to be his brother. When Cygnus moved, it was with the natural stealth of his kind. His face was young and harshly handsome, a heavy lock of dark chocolate hair sweeping in a charming curl over his brow. He had the sensual beauty and lean figure of his people and the elegance of centuries of living. He also had the lackadaisical aura of boredom that plagued so many of his brethren. He looked everything that was young and fit and attractive.

Except for the icy black cruelty of his eyes and the slash of meanness cutting at his lips. His dark brow furrowed into an irritated scowl as he faced the other Vampire, the brother who looked nothing like him.

Half brother, actually. But that was a distinction rarely made among Vampires because it was unusual to have a true full-blooded sibling. Vampires had a fickle nature, their inconsistencies the only constant thing about them. In the case of the brothers, it was a dam they had in common. Otherwise it was different sires and vastly differing centuries to which they had each been born. The younger brother was clearly held in a measure of contempt by the elder, the feeling obvious in harsh dark eyes as he appraised his sibling.

Cygnus had little tolerance for Quinton, with his bony body, weak chin, and unruly mop of dirt-colored hair. Even his eyes were a rheumy, water-weak tan color, as if they couldn't be bothered to be brown and couldn't aspire to be gold.

"We want to hunt," Quinton stated with cold determination. Since Quinton wasn't known for his backbone, Cygnus could only assume that his nerve had been built up by the demands of the others who nodded in silent agreement at his back. Their silent agreement unnerved Cygnus's baby brother. He'd expected his supporters to be more vocal, rather than leaving him to be the sole voice to speak up against him.

This was the reason why Cygnus was the one honored with the role of leader, he thought with pained aggravation. The rest of them were just too damn stupid. Lacking in initiative, too, usually. But the group was wound up and hyped about moving on to their next targets.

"In Demon territory?" Cygnus retorted mockingly. "Until we pick a target, that would not be a clever idea." He noted that the urges of the others to defy logic were growing closer together in occurrence. It didn't even take a telepath of his skill to know they had serious moments where they wanted to plot against him. His brother most of all, with his delusions of grandeur that he'd never have the power or intelligence to live up to. "It would tip off the Demons that we are here. I want to watch and make a distinct plan of action before we start hitting the targets we have chosen. If you wish to hunt, go off to an area less populated by Demons and choose human targets."

"Bah! Humans have no power to be gained. Since we tasted that sweet little Mistral last week, I find I crave the flavor of power," Quinton argued, waving off Cygnus's suggestion impatiently.

"Mistrals are easy targets. Catch them young enough and they can barely manage a defense. That mind-numbing musicality of voice does not work so well on older Vampires. Our telepathy dodges that little parlor trick. However, Demons are something else entirely. They are innately offensive. Especially some of the ones we have chosen as potential victims."

"Then I say we skip those more risky choices and go for the young ones."

"A thought that proves to us all why you are not in charge," Cygnus snapped, suddenly losing his patience. He surged out of his chair, rising to his feet with a low, riveting growl of warning. "I am a good two centuries older than any of the rest of you, and my power dwarfs the most powerful of you. Feel free to challenge me if you think yourself more competent to lead than I am." There was silence as he glared at each member of the group in turn. His brother was the only one who appeared to itch for a contest, but Cygnus was used to that. "Very well, then. Go off and hunt in proper feeding grounds, come back and sleep until dusk, and I promise you, tomorrow night we will begin to select from the gems that surround us."

Cygnus turned to stare down his sibling.

Quinton cursed him under his breath, and then with a burst of dark light, changed form to a blackbird, the power he had gained from the Mistral they had fed on. The elder Vampire watched as the others took off through doors and windows, thinking very carefully about how he needed to proceed, and how to keep the others in the positions they deserved.

Kestra shuddered as she looked down into the pool. She couldn't understand her sudden aversion to one of her favorite sports, but the idea of jumping into the chill water made her skin crawl. The water was heated, she tried to remind herself as she took a swig from the water bottle that had come to be ever present in her hand of late. However, even though the pool was enclosed in glass, the late October cold penetrated all around. She sighed, pushing a hand back through her bangs and hair. Apparently, she'd gotten into her suit for no reason.

She turned to look back at the house, biting her lip thoughtfully. There was a Jacuzzi next to the pool, but for some reason it was the sauna that really beckoned her. Was there a rule about how many saunas one could take in a single day? Or rather, night. She'd hardly seen daylight since she'd come to England. She seemed to be sleeping her days away. And nighttime seemed to be reserved for the sauna. If she went back into the superheated room, it would be the third time that day. It was no wonder she was drinking water like a fiend. She was probably dehydrating herself.

Maybe that was why she felt like she was dragging with every step she took lately. Maybe she'd caught a bug and her instinct was to sweat it out of herself. In which case, a third sauna was probably a very good idea.

That logic was apparently all the convincing she needed. She practically skipped on the way to the master suite and the adjoining bath and sauna. Kestra got out of her suit, wrapped a thick white towel around her hips, and stepped into the cedar-lined room, which already had serious steam in it because she'd subconsciously left it running. She dropped her water bottle on the bench behind her head as she stretched out with a happy sigh.

The heat had weight, pressing against her, filling her lungs and coaxing toxins out of her pores. She ran her hands over her face, making sure her hair was swept back, telling herself to simply relax and let the steam do its job. It took effort to breathe, but she didn't really mind so much. Her skin was coated in moisture, beads of it running down her bare breasts, the track ending over her throat where the little rivers tickled as they rolled off her body.

Her fingertips drifted down her throat, sweeping slickly over her collarbone. She resituated herself restlessly as unbidden images of Noah floated into her mind. She had managed not to dream of him for a small chain of days, and for that she was grateful, but she couldn't get the memories of their frantic, explosive lovemaking out of her uppermost thoughts. She had never felt anything like it, had deemed herself incapable of passion anywhere near what he'd coaxed from her body so easily.

She groaned softly, throwing her arm over her eyes as her skin seemed to come alive over every inch of her body just from the thought. Perhaps that was why she'd allowed herself to be so reckless. She'd been accused of being cold, controlling, and even frigid on the few occasions she'd allowed a man to touch her. Every time she hoped it would be different, but it never was. There were too many scars, too much baggage that weighed her down and leashed her tightly away from the ability to be uninhibited. She hadn't even had the vaguest idea about what an orgasm was truly supposed to feel like until she'd first dreamed it with such realistic intensity six months ago.

But even that had paled to the real thing. Things. Oh God, she had never once suspected...How was it possible? How could he manipulate her stubborn body with such ease? Was he so better skilled than others? What, she wondered, would it be like if he actually took his time instead of being caught up in the torrid needs of the moment? What would she be like?

Kestra brushed a hand down her body, sloughing off water and perspiration, her fingertips sliding over her breast and onto her stomach. She felt heat and weight, but it was inside her body and had nothing to do with the press of the steam around her.

She had a fierce memory for detail and had been able to memorize even the smallest of nuances with barely a blink of an eye. She remembered every single facet of his strange gem-and-smoke-colored eyes, every sharp angle of his rugged face, and every single touch of his vital body against and within her own.

Kestra sat up quickly, gripping the wooden bench fiercely as her head spun with the images and the heat. It was impossible! All of it. She needed to put this out of her mind before she drove herself crazy. She had a wild life and there was no time or space in it for a lover, no matter how much he set her on fire. Besides, she knew his type, knew what men of power were like and the demands they thought they could make. She would rather shoot a hole through her head than give up all she had worked so hard for her entire life.

She stood up and headed for the door.

Kestra stumbled, realizing too late that she had moved too fast to her feet. She was overwhelmed with a sense of vertigo, the world falling away. She fell to the floor, cursing herself for her stupidity. Still, she didn't truly realize she was in trouble until she tried to push herself upright and found she didn't have the strength.

The heat and steam seemed to suddenly attack her, the weight of it pressing her down and suffocating her as though she were trying to breathe in water.

She gasped once. Twice.

She fell straight into blackness.

Noah moved across the porch even as he sensed Jacob leaving the area. Jacob could track anything, and Kestra had been no exception. Now Noah could sense her and smell her. She was everywhere in this house, and his heart leapt with anticipation of seeing her again. He knew he wouldn't be welcome initially, knew she'd be as hostile as ever, but it didn't matter. He had to be here for her well-being. He had to see her. He desperately needed to touch her. He'd worry about the delicacies of her heart and how to win it after he could see she was well and safe. He still hadn't been able to get the vision of her being shot out of his mind's eye and he didn't think he would be able to do so for a very long time.

Noah scanned for her energy patterns, penetrating every wall and piece of furniture in the house. At first he thought she wasn't there, or that his exhaustion was fouling up his sensitivity, but suddenly he felt that innate warning ringing into his psyche. It was the very same warning that he'd ignored once before when he'd inexplicably stopped dreaming of her. An overwhelming sense of panic rushed over him. It had only been two days and three nights. At the most she would be just as tired as he was, wouldn't she?

Sweet Destiny, I have been a fool.

He went into the house, a dark cloud of building power as he drew on all of the electrical energy being fed into the cottage, replenishing himself as he moved. Lightbulbs began to explode from the power surge. Visible arcs of electricity darted at him like strikes of lightning as this fire made by man arced to touch him, clung as it whipped blinding white and blue, stretching to keep the contact with him as it was consumed by his body with a snap.

It followed his progress through the house, and then suddenly all the bulbs and electronic equipment burst like little bombs. Once the the transformer blew, everything went dark and quiet. All residual energy faded or was absorbed by his body. He practically glowed with the power crackling through him.

That was when he saw the one and only other power source left in the building. It was low to the ground, sprawled out over it, and Noah understood with perfect clarity that it was Kestra and that she was in trouble. He was in motion in an instant, a storming god limned in a bright blue aura as he rushed through the house, his heart pounding with fear and fury, his eyes blinded to everything except the low energy of her body. He burst into the bathroom, seeking, seeing, and understanding. He wrenched the sauna door right off its hinges and looked down to the floor even as he shoved it aside with a crash. Kestra was sprawled out, her head and face hidden by the damp sheen of her white hair.

How long has she been like this? he wondered in panic, his heart clawing for speed in his tightening chest. He crouched down over her head, took her shoulders gently into his hands, and turned her over against his arm. She was breathing, though it was with soft, rattling gasps because she was starved for steam-free oxygen. Noah stripped the hot, heavily soaked towel from around her hips, then scooped her up and hauled her out of the room as quickly as he could. Her arms hung splayed and limp, her horrifying gasps for breath shuddering through him.

"Okay, baby, okay," he murmured in a soft, breathless voice of reassurance even though he felt nothing but terror. He strode into the bedroom, back through the house, and out onto the porch.

Noah beelined for the pool, not even hesitating as he stepped hurriedly into the water and down the stairs of the shallow end. He sank her into the cold water quickly, right up to her chin, letting her float so he could reach to press her head back as well, wetting her hair. Her face was bright red, and even though he had plunged her out of pure heat and into pure cold, she didn't react even on a subconscious level.

Not until a full minute or two later.

Kestra came to with a staggering gasp of breath, jolting with shock, her vivid eyes flying open and looking straight up into his. Her hands came up and clutched at his arm, her fingers digging into his flexed muscles.

"It is okay now," he soothed softly, the silence of the water surrounding them eerie as it echoed his voice and her rapid but easier breathing. "You are safe now."

Kestra tried to join thoughts and images in her head, but it was pounding with pain and she could hardly see anything other than his face. She focused, understood his words, and took them at face value. Whatever had happened, she was safe now. She had no choice but to believe him, to allow him to be her protector if he chose to be. It wasn't such a difficult thing to do, she realized. There was a stark honesty in those dark features. She took comfort in knowing that she'd never once thought he was lying to her, whatever else she had thought of him.

"How did you find me?" She shivered as she asked the only question she could come up with, curling her rapidly chilling body closer to the heat of his.

"Now, that would be telling," he said with pointed humor, a smile touching his lips. However, she could see that it didn't reach his eyes. His eyes held something else within them. Something dark and primeval.

Fear.

She understood that instantly, though she didn't know how. He'd been afraid for her.

No.

He had been terrified. Terror was the only term to fit the raw pain and panic flickering in the smoke of his eyes. The comprehension stole her breath away, tightening her chest with inexplicable emotion. Why did it matter to him what became of her? She knew it wasn't just a matter of human kindness and the impulse to save the life of another that came to those of good conscience. Kestra saw more. She felt it in the pounding of the heart behind his ribs, the grip of his fingers as they grasped her and released her feverishly, and the deeply etched lines of concern in the otherwise smoothly drawn angles of his beautiful face.

No one ever really worried about her. Despite what Jim said, so long as there wasn't a body he needed to pick up at the morgue, he never really was worried about her. He certainly never feared for her.

Kestra couldn't understand why seeing the emotion in this virtual stranger on her behalf made her feel...

She didn't know what it made her feel, and she was far too weak and confused to figure it out. Kestra relaxed in his hold, allowing her body to float in the cool water. She closed her eyes, reaching out with her other senses. She heard the lapping of the water against her skin and the edges of the pool. If she let her ears lower beneath the water, she heard the fast rush of her own breathing, and the equally rapid cadence of his. She turned her head and looked at him. Really looked at him. He was fully concentrating on her, keeping her head abovewater and her relaxed body below it. He was fully clothed, she realized, feeling the fabric of his shirt wet beneath her fingers and against her bare skin. Clearly he wasn't concerned with it. His concentration was completely on her. He watched her steadily, as if watching a ticking bomb.

She was completely naked in his arms, the buoyancy of her breasts bringing them above the water, the shivering cold making her nipples contract almost painfully. As she floated, she felt there was a strange sensuality to her perceptions of contrast. Cold water, warm male body. Nude female, clothed male. He was so powerful and strong as he suspended her in her watery bed, and she was as weak and limp as noodles.

She swept her gaze up to his and saw a darkly troubled expression for a brief moment before he hid it beneath a calming upward sweep of his lips. She closed her eyes, or actually hooded them with her lashes, letting him think he was unobserved as emotions ticked across his features. She understood his suddenly dark expression as his eyes drifted over her exposed body, her breasts, her legs, and the curls at their apex. He closed his eyes and clenched his jaw until she thought he would break a tooth. No doubt he was giving himself a very intense lecture on inappropriate thoughts during lifesaving moments.

Kestra only smiled. Her slightly disembodied state as she floated in the water allowed her to release and confess. She thrived on his hunger, she acknowledged. It thrilled her, left her breathless, and she couldn't even force herself to be offended over trivial things like timing and circumstances. She was glad she had not been a mere itch to him. She wanted him to continue wanting her. It seemed to calm her even as it excited her. More feelings she didn't understand, probably due to her inexperience with the feelings born in interpersonal relationships.

She suddenly shivered, and hard as she tried, couldn't make herself stop. She felt the shivering bone deep, felt it rocking into him like a focused quake. She was flooded with nausea, the sensation making her gasp, and she instantly tried to gain her feet. Instead, he held her tight.

"Okay, baby, time to get you dry."

He swung her up high against himself as he turned and walked them both up the pool steps without so much as a stagger from the regaining of their weight.

"I'm going to be sick," she warned him.

He didn't respond. He walked straight into the house, into the kitchen, and dropped her feet just in time for her to clutch at the sink and throw up. While he supported her with one arm, he drew back her hair with his free hand, holding it away from her face as her entire being shuddered with her nausea. His mouth brushed the back of her head and he murmured softly to her. It sounded like an apology.

After a minute she was able to catch her breath and rinse her mouth. Once she began, she realized she was incredibly thirsty, and she tried to scoop up handfuls of the fresh water in order to quench her thirst.

"No," Noah denied her gently. Taking her hand away from the water, he drew her closer to his warm, wet body and shut off the taps. He leaned toward the refrigerator, looking at it for a moment as if he thought it might potentially bite him. Then he pulled open the door and searched the shelves. It only took him an instant to find the bottled sports drinks that athletes tended to keep in stock. She barely noticed that the power seemed to be out and there was no light. She was too busy trying to burrow into his heated skin.

He was right, though. The electrolyte-balancing beverage would be the better choice over water for now. He handed her the bottle and she cradled it against her body as he scooped her back up to his chest and walked the hallway toward the master suite. She heard a very loud squishing sound as they went, the noise grating on her headachy brain, and she looked down his side. She laughed when she saw water spurting up out of his boots as he walked.

"I did not have time to remove them," he explained, his grin genuine in the face of her laughter at his expense. She was instantly puzzled. She hadn't thought he would be the type to laugh at himself.

"You're getting water all over the house."

"It is only water," he said with a shrug.

He was right. She had much bigger things to worry about. Her head was pounding and she was still nauseated. Her skin itched and her hands and feet were cramping like crazy. He carried her to the bed and carefully laid her in the center of it. He tucked a single pillow behind her head before releasing her and reaching to strip off his dripping shirt. Once he was sure he had minimized getting the bed any wetter, he reached to pull up the heavy quilt over her legs, covering her hips.

"Stay," he commanded her sternly, as if she were a puppy. Since she felt no stronger than a puppy, she couldn't argue with him. She just held her drink and tried to figure out how to get the little plastic top off it as she watched him cross to the bathroom.

He seemed so big compared to everything, especially as he stormed around with such knowing efficiency. She had a direct line of sight into the bathroom and she watched as he pulled a stack of fresh towels down from a shelf. Then he sat on the dressing bench of the vanity and disposed of his boots. Kes had to snicker when water poured onto the tiled floor. He glanced her way, jade flashing from beneath long dark lashes, the chiding look meant to be a scolding of some kind. But Kestra saw the humor etched around his lips and those fine creases at the corners of his eyes. She had been right. It was natural for him to smile a lot.

Her answering smile faded when he stood up and stripped off his belt. Noah turned his back toward her, but she realized it wasn't because he put any thought into it. He stripped off his pants and stood naked and powerful and hellishly male. There were those powerful legs and thighs that he had used to bear their combined weight against the parlor wall. When God had handed out sinew and muscle, he had taken special care in sculpting Noah. To top it off, Noah had the finest-looking backside she'd ever seen. The angle of his stance changed and she caught the shiver in her own breathing that had nothing to do with feeling sick. There was a difference between feeling something and seeing something, she realized as she stared at his hefty penis. Cold water notwithstanding, he was mighty impressive. She absently licked her lips as Noah reached for a towel and wrapped it tight around his hips.

It wasn't until she exhaled that Kestra realized she had sucked in an excited breath and had held it. She couldn't reprimand herself for it, either. He was sinfully gorgeous, built like a god, and even tanned perfectly from head to toe. Tall, dark, and ultradangerous. Delightfully dangerous.

Jumping-out-of-a-plane dangerous.

Damn him.

She closed her eyes as he turned to approach her, his arms laden with towels. He dropped them on the bed with a plop and reached to tap her on the nose.

"Mmm?"

"Open your mouth."

While you are standing thigh level to the bed in nothing but a towel?

Her eyes flew open. She laughed a little shakily when she saw he held a thermometer in his hand. She obeyed his command and let him take her temperature. He was lucky she felt like crap physically, because otherwise she would never have stood for all this bossing around and whole lying-around-like-a-wilting-flower routine.

Her mind was still sharp as a damned tack, though, wasn't it? Her imagination was definitely in working order. Oh, and no need to worry about her newfound libido. It was doing quite fine.

Noah found himself smiling. He couldn't read her thoughts yet, but her eyes were more than expressive enough. Her wryness and consternation, accented by an impressive bottom-lipped pout around the little glass stick of a thermometer, made her feelings very clear. She didn't like being helpless in front of him. She would be more determined than ever to prove her ability to control her world after finding herself weak before him. But that would be then, and this was now.

He drew back the quilt and grabbed up a towel. Starting with her legs, he began to dry her briskly. He saw the painful arching in her feet and immediately understood what she wasn't telling him. He let it go for the moment and continued to dry her skin. It wasn't until he reached the area of her hips that she gasped around the thermometer and her hands reached haltingly for his wrists. They were just as cramped as her feet, so it was hardly a detriment.

"Kes, I am not here to hurt you," he said in a soft, reassuring tone that washed over her. He put all of the passion of his intention to keep her safe in his voice, and she could not help but feel it. "I would never hurt you. I would never treat you with disrespect. I want you to believe that."

She relaxed visibly once more, but she closed her eyes as he dried the moisture from her hips and bottom, from between her thighs, her snow-white curls and the dip of her navel, and up her belly and back. He was so incredibly gentle and meticulous, as if he was determined to snare every drop of water.