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While Jackson recovered physically, his twenty-one-year-old self felt ripped in half and poured out. He tried to live the life he was supposed to live and, when asked, shared that his twin had died in a hunting accident. No one ever asked about the prey they hunted, the mystery of why it had been conscious at that time of day was never solved, and Jackson wanted nothing more to do with his family’s legacy.

He was done.

But he realized how not done he was when he found the girl trying to fight off the unwanted attentions of two drunken coeds. Never had he known the kind of rage that fueled his punches on them. That girl had been Cassidy, and in the months that followed, she had taught him to feel again. By the time he brought her home as his bride-to-be, he was ready to hunt again. He was ready to avenge his brother.

Then Dominique had entered his life and upended everything Jackson knew about vampires and tolerance.

“Goddamn you,” Jackson choked out and tried to break free. “Why am I remembering this? Get the fuck out of my head!”

Another pair of arms came around him. Cassidy’s warm female scent merged with Jackson’s bitter anger. Through their link, she had experienced every one of these memories, just as Dominique had. Her sigh was one of care and sorrow. “Oh, Jackson.”

He trembled between them, fighting he knew not what. His right hand, the one with the two truncated fingers, found one of Cassidy’s on his chest and pressed tight.

A strange harmony vibrated through Dominique, as though somewhere deep in his heart a secret string of kinship had been plucked. He understood the agony of loss, just as this man did. And he knew the power of one woman’s love to dull that torment. It felt natural to take the human’s face in his hands and kiss him in a gesture of affection and understanding. At first Jackson made only a slight effort to break the intimacy, but he struggled harder when Dominique pricked his own tongue on the tip of a razor-sharp canine and pressed it into Jackson’s mouth.

“Son of a—” Jackson’s head snapped back, eyes widening as the drop of vampire blood heightened his senses to near supernatural levels. He wiped at his mouth.

“Relax,” Dominique whispered.

It wasn’t a compulsion. Jackson could have stormed away and never looked back. But he didn’t. Instead, he closed his eyes, collapsed into Dominique’s arms, and muttered a grudging “Fuck you.”

4

Sweet Dreams

Theystayedlikethis,the three of them, in a quiet embrace of bodies and spirits. Breath by breath, Jackson’s anger loosened its iron grip on him. As it faded, new feelings of relief surfaced, along with gratitude. But it was the undercurrent of surrender that captivated Dominique the most. Cassidy sensed it draw him in like a moth to a flame. Raw emotion was right up there with freely offered blood on the list of things guaranteed to draw a vampire’s undivided attention.

Jackson’s hands fisted in the material of Dominique’s shirt. Never had he been this vulnerable, this trusting. Dominique’s eyes darkened as his interest sharpened, and he sounded distracted when he said, “I am sorry,mon ami.”

Slowly, Jackson disengaged and stepped back. He glanced between them, spots of awkward color blooming on his cheeks, and raised a hand to touch the twin St. Christopher medallions around his neck. She had always known that one of them had been his twin brother’s, but only now did Cassidy realize that Jackson had pulled it from the gore of his brother’s body. It had still been smeared with blood when he added it to his own. “It’s not your fault. I’m sorry for ever blaming you for Justin’s death.” When he saw that only the slimmest band of hazel surrounded the vampire’s pupils, he dropped his hand and retreated two more steps. “I—I should go.”

“No. Stay,” Dominique whispered.

Cassidy arched an inquisitive brow.

His expression softened with a pensive smile. “I need you at sunrise.”

Jackson stared at him. “What do you mean?”

“You brought the suppressant, did you not?”

He gave a wary nod.

“Then I will need you to administer it.”

“So, you will do it then? You trust me not to kill you at the last moment?”

“You trusted me with your life tonight,” Dominique said, his tone solemn. “Now I will trust you with mine.”

“I see.” He looked around, rubbed the back of his head, unsure. “Well, I guess I’ll—”

“Get some sleep,” Dominique finished. The compulsion was only a suggestive touch against Jackson’s mind, but it slid in between his tattered defenses and found its mark. He shook his head but lost his coordination just before his eyes closed. Dominique swooped in to catch him as he slumped.

“Sweet dreams,” Cassidy murmured to the limp body in the vampire’s arms. Then she met Dominique’s eyes. “Are you sure about this?” She knew the answer, of course, but they had found that saying things—important things—out loud, lent them gravity.

“I have never been more sure about anything,” he confirmed, and hoisted Jackson over one shoulder as though he didn’t weigh north of two hundred pounds.

“It’s not a cure. It’s just a tease for something you can’t have.”