And what about the others?

Did he care about the others?

He moved down the hall, seeing nothing but the carpet path before him. The art on the wall, the trim around each door, the scent of several of Dillon's previous houseguests-it all registered somewhere in his brain, but his need for heat trumped it all. Third door on the left, and he was through it, slamming the thick wood behind himself and locking it-locking her out. He saw the glass door and massive stone shower. In seconds, his hand was fisting around the faucet, cranking the thing to blistering. As the water surged out of the head and pummeled the stone floor, Gray's mind splintered with all it had heard and consumed from Samuel back in the cage at the Paleo.

His father was an Impure.

His father was the head of the Impure resistance.

His father was blood castrated.

Firecrackers hitting him in the ass, one after the other. It was shocking, unbelievable and yet . . . he knew it was the truth.

The heat of the shower beckoned him, but once under the burning spray he stood immobile, his mind conjuring images of Samuel stretched out on the stone table, the Order veana fang-deep in his vein, sucking the very maleness from his already weak body. Suddenly, the male's head turned to reveal not the face of Samuel, but Gray's father. And that face . . . that face stared straight at Gray with wide, terror-filled eyes.

"Fuck!" Gray said, reaching out with his left hand and pounding the side of the stone wall. They'd as good as murdered his father-every last member of the Order.

Steam rose up, circled his thighs, his groin, threatening, menacing as it snaked around his ravaged hands. Just as the fire had done-the fire that his sister, Sara, had accidentally set all those years ago.

And yet, with all that Samuel had revealed to him, had she started that fire? HAD SHE?

His throat went tight, painfully tight and he tried to swallow, to breathe. His entire past-was it a lie? Could that be? Or was it a mystery to be solved? Just as the fate of the Impures had been passed down to him through an old male's tale of the truth.

Gray tipped his head back and let the spray smack him in the face, the neck, where his pulse pounded.

He would go back there.

Had to go back there.

The shower door opened with such force the glass stuttered. Gray ratcheted up, his head shifting right to catch his intruder. Dillon stood there, nearly enveloped by the steam, her full lips curled with distaste and annoyance. "You've been in here too long."

If there was a place between hate, curiosity, and deep, pulse-pounding lust, then that's where Gray resided when it came to this veana. "Worried about me, D? Or did you come to tell me breakfast is ready-cause I'm starved."

"Yeah. It's all laid out, Impure. Bacon, pancakes and eggs over-asshole."

"I'll be right down. And by 'right down' I mean 'don't hold your breath.' "

She looked down her nose at him, all serious now, real dictatorial. "Let it go, okay, Gray? Get over it already."

Gray's mouth kicked up. "Are we talking about that comment about my dick in the cold? Sure it stung a little, baby, but I was over it the moment I left you downstairs."

"You know what I'm talking about." Her stare was resolute, unwavering in her seriousness. "And don't call me baby."

Standing directly under the spray, water dancing down his skin, Gray returned, "That how you deal with the tough stuff, D? Let it go? Pretend it isn't there?"

"Damn right I do." She shrugged. "Any and all."

"Well, you're a bigger man than me."

Her eyes flickered down, remained on his groin for several seconds, then lifted.

He couldn't deal with her, not here, not now. Couldn't deal with her eyes on him, her scent so fucking close it made him want to lap at the steam to just get a taste of her. He had to think, plan his next move. "I have a shower to finish," he uttered, dropping his head, letting the water pound the back of his neck.

Again, she ignored his call for solitude. "If you don't stop agonizing over something you can't change you'll make yourself crazy."

The water fell over him in gushes. Maybe he'd thought that same thing, maybe he hadn't thought at all. Not until he'd seen what he'd seen. Gotten personal with someone he'd never expected to meet-or shit, even knew existed.

"If you're planning on going back, it's not going to happen," she continued. "I'm the only one in this bathroom who knows where the Paleo is and I'm not telling."

Well, maybe he needed to look outside the bathroom.

But not yet.

He glanced sideways at her. "How long have you known the location of that shithole?"

She shrugged.

"Days? Weeks? Months?"

"A few years."

Gray's jaw was so damn tight he thought it might crack. "And you did nothing."

She inched forward, nearly hitting water. "I told you I don't give a flying fuck about any of them. Impures and their problems are not my concern."

"Except me."

"You're not just an Impure, now are you?" She cocked her head to the side. "And why are you getting on my ass about this anyway? Before you were dragged down there, before you saw the Order's playground and toys, you didn't give a shit either."

"Not true," he fired back, wincing internally at the possibility that she was right on the goddamn money with that assessment.

"You've done nothing to help them, nothing to further your Cause. All you've been doing is baseline shit-looking for your 'kind,' looking for a place to live." Her eyes narrowed. "Looking for another cunt to drown your aimless dick in."