Page 95 of Twilight Destiny

“No. I just feel empty inside.”

“Give yourself time. It takes a while to recover from a trip through hell.”

“What would you know about it?”

“I’ve been there myself a time or two.”

“Good for you.”

“Kincaid … ”

“Just let me be alone for a while, all right?” He stared at the front windows, at the bright orange flames licking at the dusty curtains. Small explosions sounded from inside the house.

The master vampire nodded. “If that’s what you want.”

“It is.” Kincaid cocked his head at thewhoop-whoopof an approaching fire truck. “Time to go.”

“Come home with me for a few days.”

“No.” The thought of watching Saintcrow with Kadie was more than he could bear.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” Saintcrow warned and vanished into the darkness.

A moment later, Kincaid did likewise.

Rosa spent a restless night on the sofa in the living room. Sleep eluded her and all she could think of was Jake, the way he had looked, his face drawn, his eyes blood-red and haunted, the way he had avoided looking at her, talking to her, as if he had something to be ashamed of. She didn’t understand why he felt that way. He hadn’t done anything wrong. Luca had tortured him, practically destroyed him.

She tossed and turned most of the night, only to fall into a troubled sleep, where she was the one locked in a cage and the necromancer was drainingherblood. She could feel it slowly being leeched from her body, feel the chill it left behind. And she felt the hunger, the same kind of hunger Jake must have felt, the agony of it, the way it had burned through his veins like cold fire. And then Jake was bending over her, his eyes hellfire red, his fangs long and sharp as he savaged her throat over and over again. There was no pleasure in his bite, only excruciating pain. And when she was writhing with fear and anguish, he was leading her up the steps to the guillotine, forcing her to her knees …

She woke with a start, her body covered with sweat and shaking violently as she whispered his name.

Scrambling off the couch, she went through the house, checking every lock, turning on every light.

She spent the rest of the night curled up in a chair by the fireplace huddled beneath a quilt.

In the morning, Saintcrow surprised her with a visit.

“Is something wrong?” she asked anxiously. “Is Jake … ?”

“As far as I know, he’s all right. For now.” His gaze moved over her, missing nothing. “How are you holding up, kid? You look like hell.”

She shrugged. “I miss him.”

Saintcrow nodded. “I’m sure he misses you, too.”

“Then why isn’t he here?”

He looked at her, one brow raised. “You must know why.”

“He’s afraid of hurting me. I get it. But last night, he seemed ashamed to face me.”

“He is.”

“Why? He didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I suspect it’s his pride, his masculinity, that’s suffering.”

“His pride?” She stared at him. “What the devil does his pride have to do with anything?”