She glanced from Medichi to Luken to Santiago. She nodded. She released her sword back to Kerrick’s guest room. The memories from her time in his house flowed over her in sudden painful waves. Her throat tightened.

She waited, her heart hammering away. She smoothed back her still-damp hair. She had no idea what she looked like. What would she do if she saw him again? More importantly, if she had more courage, like Helena, could she have a life with him? Would her daughter then be able to really know her father?

Change comes,

But only when the heart has been shaped by suffering.

—Collected Proverbs, Beatrice of Fourth

Chapter 23

Kerrick hadn’t seen Alison in two long fucking weeks and he swore he felt like he’d had his heart ripped out of his chest. Instead of getting easier, staying away from her had become an exercise in masochism. He knew where she was—the training camps. He received reports from her CO daily. He’d insisted on at least that much. She was carrying his child. He needed to be sure she was safe despite the fact they could not be together.

So why did he feel like a bastard, like he’d let her down?

He sat in his library, a tumbler of Maker’s in his hand. He stared at nothing in particular. He had a couple of hours before the night’s fighting took up his time—and thank God for the fighting. He would have gone insane otherwise.

Two weeks had passed since he had last seen her and he just couldn’t seem to find his feet. He recalled the last time he’d sat in this chair, reading that pretentious book about the history of ascension in hopes of finding some way to withstand the onslaught of the breh-hedden.

His phone buzzed. He reached out with his senses—Medichi. The brothers were at the Cave, and he’d already refused to join them there. He’d be at the Blood and Bite for the usual, but right now he needed to be alone.

Since returning from the hospital, he’d moved out of the basement, using it only to do his daily workout. For reasons he didn’t understand, he’d been sleeping in the master bedroom. He still wasn’t sure why he’d made that leap. After all, nothing had changed materially in his world.

Except Alison.

But she wasn’t in his world anymore, was she?

And his baby grew inside her.

But what did that matter? They’d both decided they couldn’t be together, a joint decision.

Fine.

His phone buzzed again. Once more—Medichi.

Once more, he didn’t respond.

But when the phone buzzed a third time, he felt Thorne’s summons. He stood up and answered. The few brief sentences that struck his ear sent blood rushing to his head, his heart thumping. “Fold me there now.”

He felt the vibration then landed hard, two bare feet on the Cave floor. He ignored all six warriors, spinning around until he found the only person right now who mattered.

“Alison! What the hell happened?”

She stared at him and her lips parted but she couldn’t seem to speak. Then a wave of lavender hit him full in the chest and he took a step back. Oh, shit. He squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed a hand down his face, holding back his body’s quick response as much as he could. He barked, “Tell me what happened.”

She spoke slowly at first as she recounted the attack at the barracks then gathered speed and finished with, “I thought it might be sensible to lead them here, believing of course they would follow, and sure enough—”

“Goddammit.” He turned to Thorne and met his wrecked gaze. “Has Endelle been informed?”

“She’s coming.”

“Good. Because this can’t happen again.” His voice had split into three resonances and all the warriors shifted around, staring at him.

“I won’t let it happen again.” He gave a frustrated shout and punched at the air. “This is such fucking bullshit.”

A mumbled agreement rippled through the brothers.

He paced now and breathed hard. He couldn’t look at Alison but her smell was intoxicating; if he didn’t keep moving he’d throw a whole lot of wood and probably attack her. If her scent was any indication, she’d welcome it. Goddamn breh-hedden.

* * *

Alison could barely draw breath as she stared at her warrior. He walked around like a madman but looked so damn sexy in jeans, a snug dark blue tee, and, oh, God, his gorgeous bare feet again. It had to be the pregnancy hormones because the way she felt looking at him was like everything she’d ever felt for him, multiplied by ten. No. By a thousand.

Her body wept and she knew she had to be flooding him with her designed-just-for-him lavender pheromones, but she couldn’t help it.

Her lips felt swollen and her breasts, which were already bigger because of the pregnancy, were tight in her bra. At least the loose fatigues couldn’t reveal anything of that nature to the other warriors around her, thank God.

The air blurred near Kerrick and he stopped pacing. Endelle appeared, a hard look in her ancient, lined eyes. She wore a strange bodysuit in some kind of shiny gray material, not quite leather. “What the hell is going on?” She caught sight of Alison. “Ascender Wells, why the fuck aren’t you at the training camps as ordered?”

Thorne, however, cut in and told her about the death vamps, then added, “You know what this means—she can’t go back. They’ve obviously made the decision to remove her. This won’t be the last attack. Her ascension was just the beginning, not the end.”

Kerrick moved to stand beside Thorne, his gaze fixed anywhere but on Alison.

This time Endelle paced. She let fly a long string of expletives, then started over. She repeated the exercise several times. “He’s never gone this far before. Why this rule? Why now? Why Alison? Shit. He must know I’ll take the complaint to COPASS. Shit.”

Alison, however, barely paid her the smallest bit of attention. Instead she couldn’t keep from staring at Kerrick. She was struck all over again by how handsome he was, how tall, how muscular. His warrior hair was unbound and she wanted to weave thick bunches through her fingers. And she knew those muscles, every last inch of them, stem-to-stern, upside down, downside up. Oh. God.

“Ascender Wells,” Endelle snapped. “Look at me.”

The strength of Endelle’s voice forced Alison to tear her gaze away from Kerrick and focus on the Supreme High Administrator.

Endelle narrowed her eyes. “We’ll put a guard on you at the training camps. The next time death vamps show up, don’t go running to my elite group. We have a chain of command in the military. Use it.”

A general disapproval and protest erupted from every warrior present.

Alison cried, “But how many Militia Warriors will die trying to protect me? The situation is untenable and I won’t have it.”

A collective intake of breath joined another shuffling of feet. “You won’t have it?” Madame Endelle shouted.

Alison was about to state her case, this time in definitely more respectful terms, but she found herself facedown on the Cave floor, never a good place to be, and a foot, encased in a stiletto, on her neck. “Learn your place, ascender Wells. Learn it quick. I have a very short fuse.”

Alison felt the vibration and found herself in the CO’s office at the training base. She was still facedown but the pressure on her neck was gone.

She looked up. She was alone. Oh. God. Still on her knees, she leaned back. She reached out to Queen Creek and once more drew her sword into her hand. She listened and waited. She knew exactly what was going to happen next and not because of her clairvoyance.

By the time the CO and Madame Endelle appeared, maybe thirty seconds later, so did three more pretty-boys. They didn’t stay long, however. One look at Madame Endelle and all three vanished.

“Fuck,” Endelle said. She looked at Alison. “Looks like Thorne was right. Well, isn’t this a new kind of shitfest. I guess the fun with you is just beginning.”

* * *

As soon as Alison dematerialized from the Cave, Kerrick had Thorne fold him back to his home. He headed straight for his bedroom and with a thought removed his clothes. Making a beeline to the shower, he hopped in and flipped the levers, all eight of them, and took an incredibly cold shower. He felt as though lavender had been imprinted on his sinuses and brain and he couldn’t get rid of the scent. And he was hard as a rock.

Shit.

What the hell was he going to do?

The cold water beat at him, but his skin was on fire. He wondered why steam didn’t rise out of the shower despite the water’s arctic temp. If only he hadn’t been in the same room with Alison. Desire just kept spreading through his body and all he could smell was lavender, lavender, and more lavender.

When at long last, some of his painful desire had diminished, he turned off the shower, then ran his towel over the two million goose bumps afflicting his skin. Goddamn that water was cold. He let loose one full-body shiver then folded on flight gear for the night’s work, adjusting the weapons harness.

He looked around the bedroom. He stared at the bed. He planted his hands on his hips. He narrowed his eyes.

He shook his head back and forth over and over.

He had made a mistake, goddammit. He had thought he could go back to the way things were before Alison had come into his life. He had thought he could simply renew his vows and ignore the desire he felt for her as well as the primitive protective urges that twisted his thoughts in her direction one minute out of two.

But something had changed in him beginning from the time he’d first seen her at the medical complex. Yes, the breh-hedden had hit him hard, taken him to his knees, but that wasn’t what snagged him now. Something incomprehensible had hold of him. He knew he had erred in turning away from Alison but he couldn’t figure out why.

He thought of Helena again. She had given her life to be with him. I’ve chosen to be with you, she had said. It is my privilege, my pleasure, even my honor to be with you and bring peace to your life as you do to mine. You are my choice, for better or worse, come life or death.

Come life or death.

Endelle had said, Give Helena a little credit.