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Dominique rubbed his chin, feeling the barest trace of a beard there.Will you all serve me then, as he does now? As my personal guard?

On my honor, my lord. Eternally.

Then, if he will have you, you are welcome to him.

Isao inclined his head in acknowledgment. Not much chance of Garrett rejecting such a powerful and sympathetic warrior soul mate for his sire. Amazing how he hadn’t seen their similarities earlier.

At a fuel stop, after the RV had lumbered its way out of the mountains, Dominique relieved Jackson at the wheel. He needed to separate himself from the hubbub brewing in the camper. Also, he needed time to think about what awaited him in the glittering city rising out of the flat Alberta prairie ahead. He would have another conversation there tonight, a conversation he hoped wouldn’t end the way he already knew it would. He knew his mother too well.

The closer they came to Calgary, the stronger his connection to Cassidy grew. His vague awareness of her blossomed into a warm hum that became distinct thoughts.Geneviève isn’t with you, is she?

He glanced at the canvas shopping bag on the floorboard by Leonidas’s feet. Wrapped inside was a large, beat-up tin Jackson had found in the village. Inside that was all that remained of Geneviève Guérin.

Oh, no.

There was nothing I knew to do at the time to save her, and that…is as it should be.He briefly marveled at how Serge’s infuriatingly frequent words to that effect had lost their power to irritate.She would have hated living in this world.

Francesca…

I will tell her, chérie. We are almost there.

After their harrowing escape of the night before, Cassidy and Francesca had changed hotels yet again, just in case a rogue element still operated in the city. Dominique pulled the RV into the most remote corner of the Comfort Inn lot and shut off the engine. While the blood-drinkers spread out, exploring the pleasures of hunting for love instead of terror, Jackson busied himself with cleaning and prepping the vehicle for return to its owner.

It was Garrett who accompanied Dominique and the canvas bag to the second floor room where Cassidy and Francesca waited.

Cassidy felt him coming and was out the door and in his arms before he could knock. Dominique crushed her against his body, his one free hand moving up her back and around her shoulders. He buried his face in her hair, closed his eyes, and inhaled her sweet, beloved warmth.

The moment of peace only lasted until Francesca spoke. “Geneviève?Où est-elle?”

No greeting to her son. No relief that he survived what she knew was a dangerous struggle. Only “Where is she?” Where is the daughter he promised to return to her?

“Let’s sit down,” Garrett suggested, ushering her deeper into the room.

The worry on Francesca’s face became wariness as Cassidy sat next to her on one of the two queen beds and took Francesca’s hand in hers.

Dominique placed the canvas bag on the desk before them and watched his mother’s face for a long moment. A mottled bruise bloomed on her left cheek, and a small bandage was partially hidden under the lock of silver sweeping from her widow’s peak. Slowly, understanding dawned. Then her expression hardened with defiance worthy of a warrior.So be it, he thought and said, “I miscalculated,Maman.I did not realize how powerful and determined my enemies truly were.”

Francesca swallowed. Her eyes glistened.

Pulling up a chair, Dominique sat and leaned forward, doing everything he could to look as “normal” as possible without using his supernatural gifts. He had even changed out of his leathers into a pair of Jackson’s jeans, a sweatshirt, and a pair of running shoes. His hair was loose and mostly free of dried blood. “They had claimed Geneviève as one of their own before I found her.” He looked at the bag. “She did not survive the battle. I brought back what remains.”

Francesca’s throat bobbed again, her attention locking onto the now-sinister bag. “You…you…murdered her?”

“Non.Of course not. I retrieved her and tried to keep her safe. But when her sire was killed, all his spawn died with him, including her.”

“You murdered my daughter,” she whispered.

“No, he didn’t,” Cassidy said and put an arm around Francesca. “Of course, he didn’t. He was tricked into believing someone else was her sire.”

“He tried to help her,” Garrett, standing beside Francesca, added, his tone consoling. “He was the only one who could have helped her.”

“Yet you allowed her to die.” The tears broke free. She looked down at her clasped hands, where the knuckles turned white. “You allowed her to die.”

“Maman, I—”

Her shoulders stiffened, which was all the warning he got. Then her eyes pinned him. They glittered with far more than grief, and her voice shook. “You are their so-called leader. You knew what would happen, and yet you allowed it to happen anyway. You allowed my last living child to be murdered.”

A dozen defenses rushed to his tongue. He uttered none of them. Nothing he could say would sound like anything other than a meaningless excuse.