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She was about to turn around when she spotted Darien—fast asleep on the couch in the living room. He was lying on his stomach, his head turned to the side, one arm curled around a throw pillow.

Gods, was he beautiful. She loved him so much, it hurt. Seeing someone as dangerous as him in rare, vulnerable moments like this, when the lethal edges of his face were softened with sleep…it never got old. Ever.

As she stood there, admiring him, fighting the urge to go over to him and kiss him awake, something caught her attention.

Bloody tissues and zip-lock bags of Stygian salts were scattered across the coffee table, most of the salt used.

The breath left her lungs in a quiet, disappointed sigh.

How long had he been tracking? Judging from the alarming number of blood-soaked tissues, the answer wastoo long.

She tiptoed across the rug to get a closer look at him?—

Oh gods.

She crept even closer, her stomach tightening into knots.

Oh gods,was he not breathing?

Her heart started to race. She flattened a hand against his back?—

And felt it rise with a slow inhale.

She let out her own breath.

Breathing. He was breathing.

The stick of bare feet on the floor pulled her focus to the hallway.

A yawning Ivy was coming this way with bedhead. Soot, her blue-eyed dog Familiar, mirrored the yawn with one of her own. Following a short distance behind them was Lace and her purring cat Familiar.

When Ivy spotted Loren standing there, with her hand flattened upon Darien’s rising and falling back, she froze, her eyes flaring with alarm. “Is he okay?” she mouthed.

Loren nodded and straightened, her hand slipping off Darien’s warm, muscular back. He was sleeping so deeply, he didn’t even stir.

Lace came over to stand beside Ivy, the two female slayers taking note of the salt and the tissues. They shared a look and a frown. And then Lace walked to where Tanner was asleep at the table and woke him up by gently squeezing his shoulders.

He mumbled sleepily. “What’s going on?” he slurred. He lifted his head, his cheek indented with the shape of the watch on his wrist?—

Ivy pressed a finger against her lips. “Shh,” she whispered. She pointed that finger at where Darien lay on the couch.

Tanner got up, craning his neck to see Darien. When he spotted him, he frowned, too.

“Can I talk to you?” Loren whispered. “All of you.” She beckoned for them to follow.

They did. Loren led the way, looking for a good place to talk. She settled with the sitting room at the front of the house. They were far enough away that Darien shouldn’t be able to hear them, but Loren still opted to whisper.

“How long was he tracking?” she asked. Her question was for Tanner, who was rubbing his right eye, still half-asleep.

He checked his watch. “Two or three hours, maybe? He was still at it when I passed out, and that was around four.”

“He can’t keep doing this,” Loren hissed. “He’s going to hurt himself.”

“Agreed,” Lace said.

“I think we all agree, but how can we convince him to stop?” Tanner asked.

Lace said, “We can offer to take turns. Today, I’ll do the tracking, and Ivy—you can take over for the evening. That’ll give him a full day of rest.”