Page 97 of Twilight Destiny

“Maybe it’s time to stop.”

Kincaid drove his fist into a block wall. The force of it split the wall in half and shattered his knuckles. “I almost killed her the other night.”

“But you didn’t.”

“But I could have. Don’t you understand? Dammit! I can’t be with her and not want her. All of her. And she deserves better.”

“I understand better than you think.”

Kincaid stared at his hand, which had already healed. “Tell her I’m sorry,” he said, his voice thick. “Now, leave me the hell alone.”

Saintcrow came to a halt. He stood there until Kincaid was out of sight, then willed himself back to Morgan Creek.

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Paul Rhinehart stared at his face in the mirror. He had been feeling strange in ways he couldn’t explain ever since leaving Luca’s house. His wife and kids had noticed it as soon as they returned home. He told them he was just overly tired, that he’d been working a lot of overtime. He could hardly tell Nancy the truth. How could he explain that he felt as if someone else was sharing his body with him? And his dreams … nightmares, really … ghastly images of death and destruction, of places he had never been, people he had never met. And yet they were all familiar, like old friends. He dreamed of a golden-haired woman, stood helpless as he watched her die at the hands of a vampire, as he bathed his hands in her blood and vowed vengeance … Katya. Pain stabbed his brain as he tried to remember the name of the vampire who had killed her. Gradually, the monster’s face appeared in his mind. He had changed his name over the years … what was he calling himself now? Kinsey? Kingman? Kincaid? Yes, that was it. Jake Kincaid.

He went cold all over as his eyes slowly changed color, his normal light brown fading until they were a blue so pale they were almost colorless. His hair, too, slowly faded, until it was no longer thick and brown but long and white and wispy.

Horror engulfed him. Luca!

The necromancer’s image smiled back at him.

And then he passed out.

Chapter Forty

When Rosa scuffed into the kitchen in the morning, she was surprised to find Saintcrow sitting at the table waiting for her. “You’re up early.”

“And you were up late.”

She didn’t ask how he knew that. She had come to realize that Rylan Saintcrow knew practically everything about everyone in Morgan Creek.

“Are you still determined to stay here and hope Kincaid comes to his senses before it’s too late?”

“Do you mean before I’m old and gray?”

Saintcrow snorted, and then he laughed.

“I thought about going home,” she said, turning on the coffee pot.

“But?”

“I can’t leave, not yet.” Leaning against the counter, she folded her arms. “Not until I’m sure there’s no hope for us.” She blew out a sigh. “Any chance you could find me a job?”

“You don’t need one. Just tell everyone to charge your purchases to me. I’ll let the staff know you’re here as my guest.”

“I can’t let you support me.”

“Why not?”

“It’s not right. And I can’t just sit around doing nothing all day, hoping he’ll come back.”

He shrugged. “I’m sure I can find you something to do if you want to work.”

“Thanks.” She poured a cup of coffee, added cream and sugar, and sat down across from him.

“You might be wasting your time staying here,” Saintcrow remarked. “Kincaid went home to Montana last night.”