Cain smoothed his hand over the mark, wishing he could wipe it away.

If he’d been a little faster the night he’d met her, she never would have been stabbed by the demon. Her blood would be safe, and she would be awake and as feisty as ever. Instead, she was locked in an unnatural sleep, possibly with those nightmares Ronan had warned them about.

As much as Cain wished there had been something he could do, he wasn’t that powerful. All he could do was make sure Ronan got what he needed to help her.

No, that was wrong. There was something else he could do—something he knew he should do.

Cain dialed Joseph, but the leader of the Theronai did not answer his phone. Cain left a message, telling Joseph to find Gilda’s list of magical artifacts and search for one that could help Rory. With that chore done, he eased her out of her spiked leather coat and tugged off her shoes to make her more comfortable. He pulled the blankets up to her chin and went to figure out just how much blood it was going to take to fix his precious Rory.

In the living room, Paul was already rolling down his sleeve after feeding Ronan. A flush of color stained the Sanguinar’s cheeks, and a faint glow lit his eyes.

“Is that enough?” asked Cain.

Ronan shook his head. “It was all I dared take from Paul. He needs to be able to fight.”

“Take my blood,” offered Andra.

“No,” clipped Paul.

Cain should have been right there with his brother, defending Andra’s blood, but he couldn’t do it. If the choice was a small sacrifice from Andra to save Rory suffering, it was an easy one to make.

Paul took Andra’s hand in his. “You’re too tired. You haven’t been sleeping or eating. It’s not safe.”

Ronan stayed where he was, his body still. Excitement and hunger shone in his eyes, but he made no moves to take what he so clearly wanted. “If not Andra, then you will need to call someone else. Not a Gerai, either. I will need more power than that if I’m to fight this demon.”

Andra gave her husband a hard look. “I’m doing this. I can’t help Tori right now. At least this way, I’ll be helping someone.”

Paul shook his head. “I don’t think it’s a good—”

“I need this, Paul. Please don’t fight me.”

He let out a long sigh, but gave a grudging nod. He looked at Ronan, warning clear on his face. “Don’t push it.”

* * *

Ronan had lied, but for all the right reasons. He could hear the heartbeat of Andra’s child and needed to reassure himself it was safe. The strain of Andra’s grief was weighing her down, exhausting her. It was obvious in her listlessness and the heavy fatigue riding her features. That strain wasn’t good for the child she carried, which meant it was his duty to do what he could to rid her of it.

And the only way to do that was by having access to her. And her blood.

Paul was overprotective of his wife, and the only person who could have swayed his decision was Andra herself.

The setup had been too perfect for Ronan to resist, so he’d woven the lie, refusing to feel even a moment’s guilt. Every Theronai child was a gift, and Andra needed to be strong right now to ensure that child was healthy.

Ronan didn’t dare go for the woman’s throat. Instead, he held out his hand for hers, and bent over her wrist. Hot, potent power flowed into him, clouding his thoughts for a moment. The baby was a boy, and the strength of that little life was shocking. It seeped into Ronan, filling him with a giddy sense of hope. He knew he wouldn’t have long before Paul intervened, so Ronan gathered his wits and moved past sensation into pure intellect.

Weariness pounded through her with every beat of her heart. Grief. Guilt. Loneliness for her baby sister. All of it swirled together into a tight knot he wasn’t sure he could loosen. He was inundated with input, with emotions so raw and ragged they were nearly overwhelming.

Using a burst of power fueled by Andra’s rich blood, Ronan went straight for the source of her anguish—her baby sister—and laid a muting veil over it. The fix wouldn’t last long—only a few days—but it would give her time to rest and regain her strength before those deep, searing feelings of guilt and loss came back to haunt her.

Ronan sought out the new life, needing to reassure himself it was safe. As he did, he felt a curious stand of magic winding through her.

Someone had altered her, and based on the familiar feel of it, Ronan was sure that either Logan or Tynan was to blame. Or thank, depending.

Whatever had been done to her, she was fine. The baby was fine. And taking more blood would not be good for either of them. If her emotions interfered with the safety of the child, then he was sure that Paul would not stand in the way of Ronan doing what needed to be done.

With a thought, Ronan closed her wounds. He sat back on the couch, feeling a wide grin stretch his face.

“What?” asked Paul, his hand on his sword.

He didn’t know. There was no way he could know. Andra didn’t even know.

Ronan considered not telling them, but there seemed no point in waiting. Good news might be just the thing for them right now—something to help them through these trying times.

He looked at Andra, who sat calm and still. A soft, sleepy look tugged at her eyelids. “You’re pregnant.”

She blinked slowly, as if not understanding his words.

Paul’s body went still in shock. “What? Are you sure?”

“I am.”

Andra looked up at her husband. There was no accusation in her eyes, only faint curiosity. “How? I thought you couldn’t get me pregnant.”

“I was with you when you found out Nika was pregnant. I’ve been with you as you watched her over the past few months. I felt what you did.” He sat down beside Andra and took her hands in his. “You know I would do anything for you. Give you anything you wanted. And you wanted this. I bargained with Tynan for the serum.”

Andra’s words were slow and halting, tinged with guilt. “I didn’t want you to know how I felt. The timing was bad. The war . . .”

Paul gave her a lopsided grin. “To hell with the war and the timing. Our child will grow up with Nika’s. I’d say that’s all that matters.”

“Your son,” said Ronan.

A smile quivered on Andra’s lips. Tears flooded her eyes. “Our son.”

Ronan saw Cain leave the room in a rush he tried to hide. The Theronai disappeared into the kitchen. Ronan decided it was his time to leave the couple alone to absorb the news as well. He had a call to make. Tynan was going to be overjoyed.

* * *

Cain was happy for his friends, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to hide his jealousy over their news. Staying would have given his selfish feelings away, ruining what was an otherwise beautiful moment.

He wasn’t hungry, but he hadn’t eaten in hours. Neither had Rory. And Paul and Andra had both given blood. They all needed food, whether or not they wanted it, so Cain made himself busy in the kitchen, whipping up some pancakes and eggs.

The faint blue light of Andra’s shield was still shimmering over the window, reassuring Cain that Rory was safe to rest. But once that shield went down, they needed to be ready to move.

Cain needed a plan.

Ronan slipped silently into the kitchen just as Cain was flipping the last batch of pancakes. He glanced at the Sanguinar. “Hungry?”

“I am. Will you wake Rory?”

“You said she shouldn’t sleep. That the dreams would screw with her head.”

“I believe Andra’s shield will keep the Synestryn out. I can’t sense him right now.”

“Then maybe she should stay asleep while she can.”

“That’s your call.” Ronan started a pot of coffee.

“Any ideas on how we’re going to find that demon?”

“It’s a Synestryn lord—like Murak.”

“Who nearly killed us.”

“Indeed. In fact, I got the distinct impression that the two of them were related.”

Cain slid the pancakes onto the growing mound. “Great. Strength runs in the family.”

“This demon is angry. Filled with the need for vengeance.”

“Can you find it?”

“I think so. And if not, I’m certain it can find me.”

Cain sighed. “I don’t like it. We can’t risk Andra, and even if Rory wasn’t being mind-fucked, she’s not strong enough yet.”

“So we call in the others. Helen and Drake. Perhaps Liam and Dakota.”

“Dakota isn’t exactly a veteran yet, either.”

Ronan poured some coffee and offered it to Cain. “No, but she is powerful.”

Cain had heard rumors of the Defender who had a talent with electricity, but he had yet to see her in action. “I think our safest bet is to go back to Dabyr.”

“You think Rory will go quietly?”

“No. I’m not sure how much I care at this point. My job is to keep her safe.”

“Forever,” said Ronan.

“What?”

“Your job is to keep her safe forever. If she walks away from you because you were an overbearing ass, how will you ensure her safety then? You have to think long term. Tie her to you now with a bit of indulgence and you will be rewarded with a lifetime together.” Ronan’s gaze met Cain’s. “Perhaps also children of your own.”

Cain shoved away from the stove, anger driving the air from his chest. “You had no right to go snooping around in my head.”

“I do what I must to protect the survival of my race. Just as you will.”

“I can’t risk her getting hurt just to trick her into caring about me.”

“Who said anything about tricking her? You’re a good man. You want to give her what she wants. And she wants to stop her visions.”

“If that happens, then she’s free to go.”

“Only if your vow is fulfilled.”

“I don’t understand. You’re not making any sense.”

“You’re not looking at this objectively. Her vow will be fulfilled only if she finds the person who stops her visions, right?”

“Right.”

“So what if she never finds them?”

“I’ve already thought of that, much to my shame. I won’t tie her to me that way. I won’t leave her to suffer just so that I can get what I want.”

“There are other ways she could lose the visions. If she grows strong enough, she could block them herself. Had you considered that?”

Cain hadn’t, which proved that Ronan was right. Cain wasn’t being objective.

“See,” said Ronan, sounding smugly pleased with himself. “Everyone gets what they want. Rory’s visions go away and you get a family.”

Leave it to a Sanguinar to tie everything up and dangle it right where Cain had no choice but to long for it. “It doesn’t seem right. It seems . . . sneaky.”

“Perhaps a bit, but ask yourself what you’d be willing to do for a child of your own.”

“You’ve been in my head. You know the answer to that.”

“Tynan’s already given you the serum, has he not?”