Was Reordon Richart’s enemy? Sheldon seemed to think she needed protection from him, whoever he was.

“Have Étienne and Lisette regained consciousness?” He swore. “What about Roland and Marcus?”

Jenna combed her fingers through Richart’s hair. Étienne and Lisette were his brother and sister. He had spoken of them with great affection. She hated to hear that they, too, had been harmed.

“Listen, there’s something else,” Sheldon said, voice somber. “I think Ami may be dead. Apparently Richart tried to teleport her with him, but the drug was fucking with him too much and she didn’t make it here. . . . What? . . . He did? . . . Uh-huh. . . . No, I didn’t bring my cell with me. I didn’t want Reordon to be able to locate me. I’ll just call every hour to check in.”

John returned to Jenna’s bedroom, clothed in jeans and a heavy sweater with a book bag looped over his shoulder. “Are you sure you’re okay with this? I don’t feel right about leaving. I’d rather risk losing my scholarship than risk losing you. You’re more important.”

Jenna crossed to him and leaned up to kiss his cheek. “I’m fine. Sheldon will be here with me.”

“Mom, we don’t know Sheldon from Adam. For all we know, he’s—”

“I trust him,” she said. “If you’re worried, just call me in a while to see how things are going.”

He groaned. “Fine. But if you don’t answer, I’m hauling ass back here with reinforcements.”

“That’s fine, honey. Study hard.”

Rolling his eyes, he left the room. “If anything happens to her,” she heard him tell Sheldon as he passed him in the hallway, “I’ll hunt you motherfuckers down and laugh while I feed you your own entrails.”

Jenna leaned into the hallway and stared at her son’s back with wide eyes. She had never heard him sound so menacing.

“Dude,” Sheldon responded, “vampires threaten to feed me my own entrails all the time. You’re going to have to come up with something better than that.”

“Fine. I’ll cut off your balls, shove them down your throat, and watch you choke on them.”

“That’ll do.” Sheldon shuddered. “Okay, I see we’re going to have to have a little talk, John. Here’s the thing. Since Richart is planning to explore the Kama Sutra with your mom, if she forgives him . . .”

“Really?” John said. “You’re going to put that image in my head?”

“. . . you and I are going to be running into each other a lot, so you need to understand something,” he said earnestly. “You can’t threaten a man’s balls, dude. A man’s balls are off limits. Even vampires don’t fuck with a man’s balls. That’s just . . . mean.”

John glanced at Jenna.

She raised an eyebrow. “Still think I’m in danger?”

“Hell, no.”

“Good. Go study.”

Shaking his head, John left.

Sheldon met Jenna in the doorway. “I know you’re probably just as concerned as he is, but I won’t let any harm come to you, Jenna. And I promise I’m not here to harm you myself. If I let you get so much as a paper cut, Richart would hang my ass out to dry.”

“You seem very loyal to him.”

“I’d give my life to protect him. And, since he cares for you, that means I’d give my life to protect you, too.” His voice rang with sincerity.

Jenna nodded. “So what do we do now?”

He sighed. “Now . . . we wait.”

Richart bit back a groan. Some asshole was mowing his lawn or trimming his hedges or juggling fucking chainsaws in rhythmic intervals. On. Off. On. Off. On. Off. The noise assaulted his ears in perfect accompaniment to the pounding that made his head feel like someone was hitting him repeatedly in the forehead with a snow shovel.

What the hell?

He tried to open his eyes and found his lids too heavy to lift.

“Wake up, Richart,” Jenna whispered in his ear. Her delicate fingers delivered soothing strokes to one of his hands.

Had he fallen asleep at Jenna’s?

“Wake up, Richart,” she repeated in those same warm tones.

The buzz sawing grew louder. The pain in his head intensified.

“Wake up, Richart,” she said once more, amusement creeping in. “Because, if you don’t, I might have to smother Sheldon to get him to stop snoring.”

Had he the strength, he would have laughed.

Then her words sank in. Sheldon was here? What was Sheldon doing here?

Where was here? His mind was all foggy.

Had he and Jenna spent her night off at his place? All of the things he had planned to do to that lovely body of hers and he had fallen asleep? Sheldon must have laughed his ass off when he had gotten home.

“Wake up, Richart. I need to know you’re okay.”

That didn’t sound like he’d fallen asleep.

He tried again to force his eyelids open.

Her hand tightened on his as she combed her fingers through his hair.

“That’s it. Open your eyes for me.”

At last, he succeeded and tried to bring his surroundings into focus.

What was wrong with his eyes?

What was wrong with him? Why couldn’t he think straight or hold on to a thought for more than a fleeting second?

As his vision cleared, he realized he lay in Jenna’s bed, a blanket drawn up to his waist, leaving his chest bare. His Second was sprawled in a chair across the room, legs straight, feet splayed, arms dangling over the chair’s arms, head back, mouth gaping as he emitted periodic snores.

At least I’ve located the damned chainsaw.

Daylight framed the closed blinds on the only window the room boasted. A discarded IV stand sporting an empty bag of blood stood sentinel beside the bed.

“Richart?” Jenna sat beside him, her hip a gentle pressure against his. Faint signs of fatigue lined her pretty face.

He curled his fingers around hers, still trying to find his voice.

“How do you feel?” she asked.

It took a couple of attempts to coax sound to emerge. “Like I have the worst hangover ever. What happened?”

She shook her head. “Sheldon wouldn’t tell me what happened before you got here, just that you were out on assignment and something went terribly wrong. John and I were having dinner here last night when you suddenly . . .” She closed her eyes for a moment. “It feels so weird to say this.”

“What?”

“You . . . teleported into the living room.”

Alarm surged through him.

“Sporting fangs.”

He clamped his lips shut.

“Drenched in blood.”

Holy hell.

“With glowing eyes.”

Every curse word he knew in every language he had ever learned paraded through his mind.

She knew. At least part of it anyway. “You called Sheldon?” he asked, avoiding her gaze.

“No. Your cell phone was shattered in whatever fight left you so torn up. He came looking for you around noon.”

She knew.

John knew.

She’d never forgive him.

Fear-induced adrenaline surged through him, finally resurrecting a few memories.

The ambush. The vampire king. The darts.

Grabbing the pillow from behind his head, he threw it at his somnolent Second’s slack face.

Feet flying up, Sheldon snorted and jackknifed into a seated position. “I didn’t do it!” His eyes sought and found Richart. “Oh, shit. You’re awake. Man, you had me worried.” He crossed to the bed.

Richart squeezed Jenna’s hand and pulled himself up into a seated position. The room tilted. Dark clouds invaded his vision and swirled around before clearing as the dizziness ebbed. “Étienne and Lisette?”

Jenna moved to sit at his side and wrapped an arm around him for support.

A tiny spark of hope flared. She wouldn’t do that if she hated or feared him, would she?

“As of half an hour ago, they still haven’t regained consciousness,” Sheldon said, “but their wounds have healed like yours.”

“Roland and Marcus?”

“They’re awake, but not at full strength.”

“Ami?”

The younger man’s gaze darted to Jenna and back. He raised his eyebrows in question, silently asking if he should speak freely.

“Just say it. I’m going to tell her everything as soon as you leave anyway.”

“The vampire king or one of his followers captured her.”

Dread flooded Richart’s stomach like acid.

“Bastien tracked their scents to Carrboro and lost them,” Sheldon continued, “but Marcus went after her as soon as he woke up and found her.”

“She’s alive?”

Sheldon nodded.

“In what condition?”

“I don’t know. Last I heard Darnell was heading over to Marcus’s place to check on her. I’m sure Seth has been called in by now to heal her.”

Richart dropped his legs over the side of the bed and braced his bare feet on the carpet. Leaning forward, he propped his elbows on his knees and dropped his head into his hands.