Luc snorted. “Trust me. I would not have bet on those cards.” He inclined his head at Sin. “Thanks.” The word was barely more than a grunt, and a stranger on the outside might have doubted his sincerity. But his hands trembled with the emotion that wasn’t in his voice, and his throat worked on audible swallows that spoke volumes as he twined his fingers with Kar’s.

Just a few days ago, Sin would have been rolling her eyes at the intimate, tender gesture. Now, she just remembered how she’d awakened after being hit by the exomangler, and Con had been at her side, holding her hand the same way.

“Just lie still,” Eidolon was saying to Kar. “I’m going to take some blood from you. And then we need to get you to the hospital for more tests. The fact that you were producing antibodies to this virus is major.”

“Won’t it take some time to make a vaccine?” Sin asked.

“If it can be done, yes, but I’ve got demon magic and bone devil eggs at my disposal. I should be able to test the first batch of vaccine within a day or two if all goes well.”

“Bone devil eggs?” Kar asked, and Eidolon nodded.

“They’re what we use instead of chicken eggs to develop vaccines. They cut incubation time by two-thirds.” “You said if,” Sin said. “Why?”

“Because I can’t guarantee it. I think it’s likely, but I’m not going to make any promises.”

Sin’s stomach turned over. And as the others went back to taking care of Luc and Kar, Sin backed up until she bumped into the door. While no one was looking, she slipped out, needing space, but once she was out in the cold, where the coppery zest of spilled blood still hung in the air, there was too much space. Too much blood, too much death.

All of which she’d caused.

She stood there, taking it all in, watching as the UG staff tended to the injured and dragged the dead into the forest, where they could be hidden from human eyes. On her arm, her dermoire tingled, a precursor to the pain that would erupt.

Feel, Con had said.

And yeah, she owed these people that.

Grief welled up in her, a massive wave of agony that burst out as a sob. She ran, stumbling, into the forest, and by the time she was deep in the bush, she was bawling so hard she could barely breathe, and tears were trailing down her cheeks.

“Con, I hate you for this,” she whispered. She’d worked so hard to protect herself from pain, and now it seemed like that was all she could feel. She sucked in a shuddering breath, desperate to get herself under control, and then… the air went still. And colder. Her breath formed an icy fog, and right behind her, a horse screamed, a godawful, evil screech that Sin felt deep in her marrow. The distinct whistle of a missile made her heart skip a beat a split second before an arrow punched into the snow between her feet. Secured to the end of the arrow was a twisted piece of sinew from which something shiny dangled.

Knowing she was a dead woman, Sin turned. The horseman came out of the trees like a wraith, with brimstone smoke as an escort. He drew his mount to a halt, and the giant white beast reared up, flashing hooves larger than an old Chevy’s hubcaps. When the horse settled, the rider removed his great helm. Long white hair spilled out over the male’s broad shoulders, which were covered in armor, and just like in the mountains of Montana, it was dull, sooty, and an oily, bloodlike substance oozed from the joints and cracks. His eyes glowed with an unholy sanguine light, the same as the stallion’s. His face should have been handsome, but his smile was pure malice as he inclined his head, gave Sin a two-finger salute, and then wheeled his mount around and disappeared as if the forest had swallowed him whole.

Unbelievably, Sin was still alive.

“What. The. Hell.” Eidolon’s voice startled her, and she spun to find him and Con standing behind her. “Was that the horse guy who’s been stalking you?” “Yeah. And I’m getting tired of his games.” Covertly, Sin dashed away her leftover tears as she bent to tug the arrow out of the snow and snap the gold object off the twine. “It’s some sort of coin. Well, half a coin.” She rubbed her finger over the broken, zigzagged edge. “There’s writing on the back. She who… blood… carries… spread plague… battle breaks… seal’d.” Eidolon frowned, and Sin returned the look. “What? Why do you look like you licked a Mondevilin piss pod?”

“It sounds vaguely familiar.”

“We’ll have to figure it out later,” Con said. “We need to get Sin somewhere safe. We’ve been here long enough to make me nervous.”

Eidolon’s expression took on a sympathetic cast. “Yeah, I’m worried about the damned assassins, too. We’ll get Sin to UG—”

“That won’t be necessary,” Sin interrupted. “I’m not going to be in danger from my assassins anymore.” “Why not?” Eidolon asked.

“Because,” she said quietly, “I’m going back to the den.”

“Like hell you are,” Con and Eidolon said simultaneously.

Sin jammed her hands onto her h*ps and glared at them both in turn. Maybe if her eyes weren’t swollen and her face damp from tears, she might have looked a little fiercer. And Con wouldn’t feel like such a piece of shit, because he knew damned good and well that every single tear was on his shoulders.

“This is my choice,” she said. “Everyone will be safer if I go back to the den. I’ve made up my mind.”

Eidolon gave her a look that was pure big brother. “You don’t need to go back there, Sin. We’ll find a way to make it safe for you.” Con sure as hell agreed with that. “They can’t touch you at the hospital. Go with your brothers.” “I am going back there. It’s my job.”

“Bullshit.” Gold flecks kicked up in the black of Eidolon’s eyes, and Con braced himself. This could get ugly if the guy started ordering Sin around. “You will not—”

“E,” Con interrupted. “Could you give us a second?”

Though Eidolon’s expression was as frosty as the breeze that stirred up the snow around them, he nodded. “I’ll take Luc and Kar to UG. You two can meet us there.”

Once he was out of sight, Sin huffed. “Good cop, bad cop doesn’t work on me. You’re not going to change my mind.”

“First of all,” Con growled, “I’m not the good cop. Second, I know I’m not going to change your mind. But at least tell me the truth.” He wanted the truth because he did plan on changing her mind. “I just did.”

“Tell me the rest of it.”

She curled her hands into fists and got that stubborn set to her mouth, the one that made him want to kiss her just to make it go away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “Don’t do this,” he gritted out. “You’ve made a lot of progress. You know, with your brothers.” Pink splotched her cheeks, and she averted her gaze. Kicked at the snow. “You don’t understand.”

“Then make me understand. Because even if you go back to the den, we still don’t know what’s up with the horse guy or why someone besides your assassins wants you dead. So you should be at the hospital with people who care about you right now. Not in your assassin den, all alone and hiding from your brothers.”

The color in her cheeks deepened, and she lifted her angry gaze to him. “Hiding?” He stepped closer. “Hiding.”

“Maybe I just don’t want to be treated like a child by them—”

“Then stop acting like one!” he shouted. Her head snapped back as if he’d slapped her, and he pressed his advantage, stepping into her. “You don’t want to be owned, possessed, chained, but what the hell do you think you’re doing to yourself? You’re going back to your den to be free? How are you free if you can’t go anywhere without worrying about being killed by your own assassins? You’re still a slave, Sin. But this time, it’s of your own making.”

Her dark stare flared with fury. “I told you why I took the job—” “Yeah, yeah. You took it to spare Idess.” He knew he was being a dick, was once again doing a repeat of what he’d done at Rivesta’s, but dammit, she had a shot at having a family. And if she went back to the den and shut herself off, she’d close down again, maybe tighter than ever this time. “But you know what? I think you’d have taken it anyway. You couldn’t even deal with your feelings, so how would you have dealt with the real world if you were out in it instead of living in a cave where you had a great excuse to not hang out with your family?”

Her eyes went steely. “God, you’re such an as**ole sometimes.”

She’d called him that before. Had called him worse. But this time, it actually hurt. Because she was right. “Don’t do it, Sin. Just… don’t.” “I think,” she said, in a soft voice he hadn’t expected, “you’re forgetting that I couldn’t get out of my job if I wanted to.” She dragged her hands through her hair, which glinted with bluish highlights in the sunlight that squeezed between the treetops. “This is pointless. I either go to the hospital and be a prisoner there, with my brothers as jailers, or I go to my den, where at least I’m my own warden.”

“No.” He couldn’t let her go. He couldn’t— The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, and an animal growl rose up in his throat before he could stop it. He spun around, instinctively tucking Sin behind him. The sight of Bran standing in the shadows with two male dhampires came with a gut-wrenching blast of dread.

“It’s time, Conall.”

“Con?” Sin tugged on one of his belt loops. “Who are these douche bags?”

Was it wrong for him to want to smile at that? Nah. “The ugly one would be my clan leader,” he said quietly. “Stay here.” He moved to Bran with swift, sure steps. Show no weakness. “I’m not ready.”

“Your state of readiness is irrelevant,” Bran growled. “Our first female has gone into heat. The rest will be ready to breed by the end of the week. We need you.” The idea of ha**g s*x with anyone but Sin made him cold inside. Hell, the very thought of even feeding from anyone else made him ill. Which wasn’t a good sign, and somehow, Bran was aware of the reason for Con’s reluctance. His dark gaze zeroed in on Sin, then cut sharply to Con when he stepped in front of the dhampire leader to block the view.

“The Warg Council is on our backs as well.” One of the other males, Enric, if Con remembered right, gestured in the direction of the cabin. “The pricolici and varcolac both want our allegiance in their war. We need the Dhampire Council to assemble.”

Con shook his head. “So we refuse to take sides.” “We’ve already been drawn into it. We have dhampire females mated to pricolici,” Bran said, and Con thought about Sable, hoped she was okay. “Some are fleeing with their families to our lands, and others are dragging dhampires into the conflict.”

Con drew in a ragged breath. He might be able to put off yet another breeding heat, but there was no stalling when it came to a matter of politics and possible war. His people needed him. He’d felt disconnected from them for so long that he could barely consider them his people anymore, but ultimately, he was a dhampire, and it was time to take the long overdue reins.

The sound of Sin’s heartbeat, so loud and tempting even at this distance, reminded him that it was a very good time to get away from her and fulfill his destiny. But the words wouldn’t come. Yes, I’ll go with you. Yes, I’m ready. Yes, let me bend over and take it up the ass for the dhampire race.

Not a single word formed on his lips. Bran’s hard gaze zeroed in on Sin. “That is the demon female you’re working with?” His nostrils flared, and he cut quick looks between Sin and Con, and shit… Bran knew Con was teetering on the brink of addiction. Hell, he was probably already over the edge.

“Yes,” Con ground out.

“Is the virus out of your blood?”

Con opened his mouth to say yes, but suddenly, Sin was there. “No,” she said. “One more feeding should do it, though. So whatever you need him for, it can wait.”

“Sin—”

She covertly pinched his ass, shutting him up and nearly making him jump. Bran glared, and when he said nothing, Sin made a shooing motion with her hand. “Run along. Leave us to it.” Bran practically shook with rage, which, to Con, was a combination of funny and oh-fuck. Finally, Bran snarled, “You have until tomorrow to put your affairs in order, Conall. If we have to seek you out, you’ll be kept in the lunecrate for a year.”

Bran and the males left, and Con let out a soft curse. The lunecrate box was the fun punishment place for dhampires. Shoved inside the iron cage during the full moon, a dhampire was left for three days of madness, unable to hunt, howl, or even move. By the time the dhampire recovered from the trauma, the full moon had come again.

Sin’s hand came up to his shoulder, a tentative, surprisingly gentle touch. He turned into her. “Sin… fuck.” “Yes.”

Confused, he frowned at her. “What?”

She pressed her curvy body against him, and his body sparked to instant, fierce life. “Make love to me.”

“Right here?” He hoped she didn’t notice how strangled he sounded. “Well, not this close to the cabin.” She placed her hand over his heart, and the wolf in him howled. “Please. It sounds like you have some sort of crisis to handle, and I have to go, so it might be the last time for a while.”