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“He doesn’t understand what he is yet. What he’s capable of. What’s hunting him.” I pace the kitchen, agitation making it impossible to stay still. “The Ivanovs, if they’re behind this, they could be watching. Cohen’s men too.”

“He’s a grown man. And a detective.” Abe refills his cup from the silver teapot.

“Private investigator,” I say wearily.

“Regardless. He went to the station, I’m sure the safest place possible for him right now, providing there isn’t a warrant out for him from last night. Besides, he took precautions. Adonis drove him into the city, made sure he wasn’t followed.”

I stop pacing, processing this. “Adonis is with him?”

“No. Callahan insisted on going alone once they reached the city limits.” Abe studies me over the rim of his teacup. “He’s not the first vampire to struggle with his nature, Lena. He won’t be the last.”

“He’s different,” I insist. “He didn’t know what he was. He’s been thrown into this without preparation, without understanding.”

“Is that why you’re so drawn to him? Because he needs saving?”

The question catches me off guard. “I’m not trying to save him.”

“Aren’t you?” Abe sets down his cup. “You’ve always had a weakness for strays, for broken things that need fixing. First Elizabeth, now Callahan.”

“He’s not broken.”

“No, but he is incomplete. Caught between worlds.” Abe’s gaze is sympathetic but penetrating. “And to be frank with you, I’m not sure how we’ll be able to fix him other than giving him time.”

Before I can respond, Valtu enters the kitchen, bare-chested in black silk pajama bottoms, his dark hair tousled from sleep. He takes in my obvious distress with a knowing look.

“Lover’s quarrel?” he asks, reaching for a mug.

“Callahan left,” I tell him, not bothering to correct his assumption.

“Ah. The new vampire fled the nest.” Valtu fills his mug with coffee, then adds a splash from a flask he produces from hispocket, something that smells like alcohol and blood. “Can’t say I blame him. It’s a lot to take in.”

“He could be in danger,” I say.

“Or he could be dangerous,” Valtu counters. He gestures toward the beach with his mug. “Walk with me?”

I glance at Abe, who nods encouragingly. “Go. Clear your head. We’ll figure out our next move when you return.”

Outside, the morning sun has burned away some of the mist, though tendrils still cling to the shoreline. Valtu and I make our way down the wooden stairs to the beach below the house, our feet sinking into cool sand still damp from the tide. The fact that he’s still shirtless save for his black silk pajama pants gives him the appearance of being some dark sea king having emerged from the depths.

We walk in silence for several minutes, the rhythmic crash of waves providing a backdrop to my tumultuous thoughts. Finally, Valtu speaks.

“Remember how you said that you didn’t think either of us knew much about love?”

“Mmmm,” I say, not liking where this conversation is going.

“You still believe that?”

“More than ever.”

He gives me a sly smile. “But you are in love with him. I can tell.”

“I am not in love with him.”

He sighs. “Fine. But what’s set in motion cannot be stopped. You’re falling in love, at this moment, as we speak.”

I want to deny it again. I am not in love with Callahan. I don’t even know what love feels like, I’ve never felt it before. But I can’t pretend I don’t feel it coming, like standing on the edge of a cliff, waiting for the slightest to breeze to knock you down.

“Is it obvious?” I ask warily. I’ve always prided myself in wearing a mask, keeping my emotions hidden beneath my voice and red lipstick.