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“Vancouver, Canada.”

“Canada,” Dominique muttered. He scooted to the edge of the plush mattress, shoulders pulled up to his ears, and put his bare feet on the carpet. A shock of hair fell across his brooding scowl. “This is intolerable. What are you doing with me,madame?”

Cassidy leaned back on one hand and couldn’t help being charmed by his befuddlement. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

His sweeping brows gathered, then smoothed as he looked at her. “I remember you.” His voice dropped a notch, approaching husky. “We made love,non?”

“Oh,oui.We did. What else do you remember?”

The warmth blossoming in his eyes dimmed. “At the end…”

“Yes?”

He stared at the floor. “Nothing.”

He was lying. She knew he was, even to himself, but she let it go. Whatever he remembered of that moment when his vampire self re-emerged, his human self still wanted no part of it.

She fished his phone out of his discarded jacket. “Here. You should watch this.”

On the small screen, Dominique of an hour ago spoke for several minutes in concise, no-nonsense French. His eyes flashed confidence and resolve as he explained they were going to Vancouver on business, and they were expecting trouble. Under no circumstance was he to leave Cassidy’s side. She was the only one he could trust.

Vampire Dominique leaned in. “One more thing you must understand: Cassidy is my beating heart and living soul. I entrust you with her safety. If anything happens to her—anything at all—I will never allow you to wake again.”

Human Dominique cursed under his breath. “How is this possible? How are you doing this?”

“If you let yourself remember—”

He held up a hand to stop her. “Non, do not misunderstand me. You aretrès charmante, and I have enjoyed ourrencontres, but”—he leaned closer—“Je veux rentrer chez moi.”

She touched his cheek. “I know you want to go home, my love.”Give him whatever he wants, Dominique had said.Make him remember.“Would you…would you like to call your mother? Again?”

The look he gave her was one of pure incredulity. “You would allow this?”

She gestured at the phone attached to the wall beside the bed. “You’ll want to call her mobile. Seems you invited her to come stay with us,” she added deadpan.

He looked suspicious until Francesca answered her phone. “Maman?Is it you? Where are you? Oh, yes, of course. No, nothing is—I don’t know—I am…fine. I’m on a plane. Vancouver?” He glanced at Cassidy, who nodded. “On business. Yes. Yes. Right. Very important.” He dropped his forehead into one hand and slid long fingers through his hair. “Yes, we left in a great hurry. I will be back soon. Yes, you stay as long as you like. Enjoy the house. I know. I love you, too.”

Slowly, he replaced the handset on the hook and sat back down beside her. Cassidy let out the breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. “Tell me, Cassidy. Just what sort of…business does my mother think I do?”

“Security,” she said and leaned companionably against him. He met her wide, innocent eyes out of the corners of his narrow, suspicious ones. “And you’re a stupendous success.”

She could tell he wanted to know more. Or not. He looked away, shoulders rounding. Then he spotted the protective bags carefully clipped to a utility hook. Their long, thin shape betrayed their contents: swords. He stared at them, and Cassidy held her breath again.

Without a word, he got up, retrieved the longer of the bags and carefully extracted thekatanainside. The magnificent sixteenth century weapon was sheathed in a black scabbard festooned with writhing dragons. He studied the hilt, the small gold dragon embedded there glinting in the warm morning light pouring into the cabin. His thumb rubbed the brass hand guard, which featured another dragon. A tiny notch marred the edge, she knew, a remnant of a long-ago battle that would confirm the sword as his. Together with its mate, it had entered his life just before he was transformed and would still be fresh in his human memories. “Why are these here?”

Oh, of all the questions…She licked her lips, considering the minefield ahead. “Well, they’re yours,” she began. His brow furrowed with impatience. “And…you, well, you use them to—”

“These areantiquités. They do not getused.”

Cassidy exhaled, the “to decapitate hostile vampires” left blessedly unspoken. “For your work,” she finished instead.

“In…security.”

“Oui,” she confirmed brightly. The frown deepened, and she sobered. “You have…told me that the dragons guide you…sometimes.”

He looked at the scabbard in his hands again, brow smoothing. “These were a gift from my friend Jérôme when I earned my first degree black belt. The dragons were supposed to remind me that strength is nothing without the wisdom to use it.”

“A fitting gift,” she said, dangling verbal bait. “Considering how much greater your strength has become.” She waited. Would he bite?