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"It's all right," he says in a calm, soothing voice, like a gentle breeze on a warm night. "You're safe."

My panic attack settles into something more manageable as I use the tools I learned—ironically from Jerry himself. I find something to look at. The wood pattern of the dining room table, with its variation and imperfections that make it all the more perfect. Something to listen to. The clicking of the grandfather clock in the next room. Something to feel. I grip Elijah's hand more tightly, noticing how soft his skin is, and how long and elegant his fingers are. Something to smell. I inhale and am rewarded with the scent of fresh coffee brewing in the kitchen. And something to think about—my happy place. My sanctuary.

With Elijah's hand still in mine, I dive into my mind, controlling my breathing as the winding staircase comes into focus. I follow it down, down, down, so far down, until the red door appears. I open it and smile, relaxing into the beautiful environment I now find myself in. Nature. Running water. Birds chirping. The sun shining. Flowers swaying in the gentle breeze. And her. My Muse.

She reaches for me with a long-branched arm, leaves for fingers, and brushes them against my face gently. The wind rustles in her branches and I hear a message for me in them, but I cannot make out the specific words. It's just a feeling. I settle into that feeling, and then open my eyes.

Elijah is waiting patiently, his hand still holding mine, his eyes seeking out my own. "You are very skilled at that," he says.

"I went through a bad spell," I say. "This helped. Still does."

"And that man who called?" He frowns, worry lines forming on his smooth face.

"My ex. And former therapist."

"Does he need to be dealt with?" Elijah asks.

"Who needs to be dealt with?" Sebastian asks, returning to the dining room, his eyes seeking mine the moment he enters.

"Eve's ex is bothering her," Elijah says with clear malice.

Sebastian's face hardens and his eyes lock onto mine. "In what way is he bothering you?" His words are slow and controlled, but there's a power behind them and I almost want to laugh at the pickle Jerry would find himself in if I unleashed the Night brothers on him.

"He just called. It's not a big deal."

Elijah flashes me a look and frowns. "It sent you into a state of panic. Did he hurt you?"

Of the four brothers, Elijah is in many ways the easiest to talk to. He has a calmness and gentleness to him that is missing in the others, but it doesn't take away from the raw force of his charisma or power. He's just as mesmerizing, and just as dangerous, I'm sure. I certainly see that danger in his eyes now, and even though it's not directed at me, it still makes me shudder.

Sebastian puts a hand on my shoulder, and his stability and solidness center me. I lean into him, relishing the touch, closing my eyes as I think back to memories I'd rather not revisit.

"I met him while my brother was sick. I was having panic attacks and they were interfering with my work and life enough to worry Adam. He convinced me to go see a therapist, thinking it would help. At first it did. Jerry was good at his job. We talked about medication, but I was able to manage it with some self-hypnosis tricks I learned online and tools he taught me to center myself back into my body and into the present moment. I should have stopped seeing him then, once my panic was under control," I say.

Elijah's hand tightens around mine and Sebastian squeezes my shoulder in support.

"But things were so hard. I was constantly cutting my hours to the point that I had to take a leave of absence as Adam got worse. My bank account was drained, but the bills weren't slowing. I thought having someone to talk to would be helpful. He took advantage of that. I see that now. He preyed on my vulnerability and need for someone—anyone—to step in and help bear some of the load I was carrying. It started innocently enough. A run-in at the coffee shop which lead to lunch at the cafe next door, which led to another plan for dinner the following week. Slowly it built, until I was convinced everything I was feeling was real and that I'd found my prince charming. Then it turned dark."

I suck in a breath, take a sip of orange juice, and continue. "He would lash out at the smallest things, then apologize and make it up to me with lavish gifts he couldn't afford. Then the money stress would create another cycle of abuse. He'd choke me, belittle me, twist my fingers until they almost broke. He never full on hit me though. So I didn't think it was abuse. At least, at first."

There's a low growl emanating from Sebastian, and Derek and Liam return, but I continue.

"But Adam walked in once when…when we were fighting, and he lost his shit over what was happening. Nearly beat Jerry to death. He ended up in the hospital with stitches—Jerry, not my brother—and I cut him out of my life from that point on. When Adam died, I almost caved and called him back. I was so lonely and Adam had been my only real friend. But I resisted, knowing Adam would have been so pissed if I'd done that. But now Jerry won't leave me alone. Though the solution is easy enough at this point."

I surprise them all by standing and tossing my phone to the floor, then stomping it with my feet. I expect a dramatic spraying of glass and metal as the phone explodes, but I'm disappointed. Nothing happens. Not even a crack.

"Seriously?" I ask, picking it up and examining it. "I dropped my last phone on my bed and it sustained more damage than this."

Liam holds out his hand. "May I?" he asks.

I pass it to him, and to my utter shock and astonishment, his hand lights on fire, flames peeling out from his palm and engulfing the phone in dancing golden flames. The phone melts, and he drops it onto the table and takes a napkin to wipe his fingers.

I'm staring bug-eyed at Liam, but no one else seems phased. "This is something you can do? Shoot fire out of your hand?"

Liam glances up at me, but it's not him who answers. In fact, it's not any of the Night brothers. It's Dracula himself, but today he's dressed in jeans and a band t-shirt and I do a double take because it's so incongruous with his appearance yesterday that I can scarcely picture him as the same man.

Dracula steals the room with just his entrance. His voice commands attention. “Have they not told you? They always were too modest with their gifts.”

He walks closer to me, delicately sniffing the air as he does. I nervously wonder if I remembered deodorant. And then I wonder why I care what this prick thinks. And then I go back to being nervous. This is exhausting.