Lord Dillon approached another human. Judging from the man's deference and plain, rough-spun clothes, Catherine deduced that he was a servant.

The man's gaze kept straying to her and skittering away. If he were a horse, he would be rolling his eyes and pawing the ground as his skin shivered and he snorted through his nose.

"Thomas, it seems you got your wish. You may remain with your wife at her parents' house until after the baby has arrived." Dillon's tight control and sense of caution didn't surprise her.

She heard her father say more than once that "Lord Dillon is no fool," but this moment clarified the sentiment.

Thomas handed Dillon his horse's reins with an unsteady hand.

This man is an open book with no hidden pages, she thought, watching him. The musk of fear clings to him, but he frets over his master's safety.

Her gaze returned to the man before her.

He will send Thomas home rather than risk his servant's life by trusting me, Father, or Aldrich. It is a wise decision, and only a moron would believe otherwise.

A palpable rise in tension permeated the air with apprehension.

Catherine averted her gaze, concentrating on remaining upright while ignoring the enticing smell of warm, pulsing human blood. For a moment, her raging thirst almost overpowered everything else.

"This is not a road to travel alone, Master," Thomas whispered urgently. But with the strange way sound carried near the walls in the courtyard, he might just as well have shouted.

The man looked like he had more to say, but a single glance from Dillon silenced him.

I understand Thomas' reservations, she conceded. This is no road to travel alone with an unknown vampire—especially not when the motives of the vampires at this castle remain unclear.

"Your master will be safe," the Lord Chancellor's dulcet assurance clearly did not alter Thomas' convictions.

Although the councilor directed the comment at the human servant, it is a warning to those who harbor ideas of vengeance or rescue rather than an assurance, she concluded, wishing she could hurry things along. The council will not be crossed, and the consequences of disobedience would be death, torture, or both.

"I will not be alone," Dillon ignored the Lord Chancellor, answering Thomas but staring directly at her.

She sensed his gaze and, conceding, met his glance.

The unmistakable challenge in those gray depths made her nod. By doing that, she let go of the last shreds of her honor and dignity by aligning herself publicly with him and thus admitting defeat.

Catherine accepted the well-worn leather reins, her hands trembling with weakness.

Although she carefully avoided touching him, her thirst raged on the extreme edge of her control. After everything she went through during that endless, hellish week, the delicious aroma tormented her.

Sensing the speculation of the others, she ignored them, yet one pair of eyes still burned into her back with more intensity than any other. Its menacing intent made her hackles rise.

Catherine mounted the horse with less than her usual grace, and for a fraction of a heartbeat, as she lifted herself, her body almost failed her. Pain lanced through her, robbing her of strength, but the power of her will conquered her physical injuries.

The gelding, unused to a vampire rider, shied, but years of riding experience and desperation allowed her to control it. Every muscle in her body threatened to rip apart with the effort, and she gritted her teeth, fighting waves of dizziness and threatening darkness.

Lord Dillon must have noted her distress and nearly steered his horse in her direction but stopped himself short when he noticed her expression.

Catherine appreciated his understanding that his assistance would not be welcome or prudent—not while in full view of their audience. He earned her respect for restraining his human urge to help a female in distress, thus sparing her the humiliation of highlighting her frailty.

The memory of her screams and the pervasive tension made the horses skittish, but he kept his animal under control. Without saying another word or glancing at the gathered crowd, he guided his mount to the gate.

Catherine hesitated briefly before following his lead.

The slightest jolt ripped through her like lightning, but she stoically bore the discomfort that did not compare to riding from her home and knowing she would never again see it.

Thoughtlessly, she glanced back.

Hellenic stared after her with a smirk, tugging at his boyishly handsome lips, dark intent glowing in his greenish-brown eyes. The man winked at her, and a shudder skittered down her spine. Her vampire pounced, and for a moment that stretched into eternity, she almost lost control of it. It seemed to think that ending Hellenic would be worth the consequences, but she disagreed.

That gaze holds a promise and a warning that this thing between us is far from over. Catherine fought the urge to hasten her horse's pace. Despite Father's warning, he will find a way to come after me.

Although Dillon faced forward, not glancing back at the castle or her, wariness emanated from him.

He is uncomfortable with me at his back, and I would probably react the same way in his place.

She needed distance from her tormentors, yet Dillon chose a slow and steady pace. Deep down inside, she understood his decision.

The human has shown me mercy, although he would probably call it courtesy, and paid the price, she thought. This demonstration of defiance proves that this sequence of events went against his will as much as mine.

Although Catherine's body appreciated the reprieve, as her wounds were slow to heal and caused suffering, her tortured mind did not.

I need a moment to myself, she cried out, but sense told her that would not happen anytime soon.

One part of her wanted to ride back and uselessly beg her father for mercy, and the other could not get far enough away, fast enough.

For the first time, Catherine felt uncomfortable under the familiar heat of the sun. This day would haunt her nightmares as surely as its echo shaped her future—like a ripple in a pond.

She fidgeted with the gold ring, twisting it around her finger with her thumb. Never had she appreciated how terrifying life without it might be or understood the privilege of it.

Before Aldrich returned the ring to her earlier, Eduardo must have vindictively scratched the jade-inlaid Griffon beyond recognition. Now, seeing it so damaged saddened her, and it was physical proof of her shame that would remain long after her scars had disappeared.

Examining its sad exterior triggered the past. Although years had come and gone, she effortlessly recalled the day her father replaced her plain gold band with this one. She had just turned eighteen and earned her first commission by capturing a rogue band of vampires that raided towns along the coast. Her father had awarded her for her bravery with his childhood signet.

How had my life come to this? she wondered, stilling the motion of her thumb. The past crowded in on her, but she had more urgent concerns. Catherine glanced at Dillon from the corner of her eye to gauge if he noticed the telling gesture.

I can't imagine him bowing before the will of another as I did.

A sob caught in her throat, the truth burning through her like the sun, but she suppressed it.

They reached a bend, and, knowing every inch of this land intimately, she remembered that within ten paces of the side of the road ran a small stream.

I desperately need to wash the blood, dirt, and scent of burned flesh from both my body and mind, she thought. The stream would cool my burns and take the fever from my injuries. Not that I expect a mortal to understand such things. The workings of a vampire's body are not common knowledge. Humans believe we heal almost magically and painlessly, but it doesn't exactly work that way—not with damage this extensive.

Catherine's horse almost bumped into his as Dillon brought the animal to a standstill beside the stream.

His gaze restlessly took in their surroundings while she uneasily studied him.

I share his apprehension. She allowed her senses to roam. Hellenic is dangerous and does not fear Father. Nothing stirred in the nearby woods. Eduardo, she corrected herself. I must learn to think of him that way.

"Get off," Dillon ordered unexpectedly.

Catherine stared at him, not knowing what to think of the command.

Does he intend to leave me here and flee on his own? she wondered, missing the honor of "Your Highness," and the knowledge of her loss hurt, but her present concerns were more immediate.

Catherin tried to obey, despite the questions in bombarding her mind, but her body had stiffened.

Lord Dillon dismounted, and she envied his ease of movement.

Would he stand a better chance on his own? A frown tugged at her brow. Probably. Hellenic won't bother going after him if he is not in my presence.

Dillon ignored her, rummaging through his saddlebags.

Will he at least leave me a horse? She mused. In my current state, I would be vulnerable without one. But why would he feel obliged to do such a thing? He owes me nothing.

"Did I not ask you to dismount?" he reminded.

Humiliation screamed through her.

"I cannot," she admitted, wishing the ground would open beneath her and gobble her up into its depths.

He glanced at her, and his hand stalled in mid-motion. That enigmatic gaze darkened with pity but also glowed with suspicion.

Dillon approached her warily, taking the animal's reins.

What will he do? Pull me from my seat as a vampire would? She doubted it.

"Can you hold on?" he asked.

She nodded, not knowing what his intentions were and hoping fate didn't turn her words into a lie. The vampire stirred inside her, and reflex made her restrain it before she realized there was another dimension to its mixture of fear and wariness—curiosity. She cocked her head to one side as Dillon spoke quietly to the restless horse, considering what she just realized. The gelding flicked its ears at him. The whites of its eyes still showed, and it took deep, gushing breaths.

Why does Dillon feel so familiar to me? The thought preoccupied her briefly. Is it from years of seeing him at court? No. It is something else. She couldn't put her finger on it.

To her surprise, his calm, reassuring tones didn't just work on her borrowed steed. Until she realized her gaze was fixated on the junction between his shoulder and neck while her fangs slowly slid into place.

The animal bent its knees, almost jolting her from the saddle as it lowered itself to the ground, bringing her much closer to the human before she was ready.

Dillon, a tall man, met her gaze.

She stiffened, having no idea what his intentions were, as she braced herself for the vampire's expected attempt to take control. The scent of warm, human, male and the aroma of his blood teased her like a piece of meat would a hungry dog.

Yet the shadows in his eyes arrested her attention as he seemed to make up his mind about something.

He leaned toward her, and she shied away, hurting herself and almost toppling from the saddle.

Dillon froze, hesitated, then slowly continued his forward motion in the most unthreatening way possible.

He means me no harm, she realized, allowing him to lock his powerful arms around her to save her from her precarious position. He lifted her off the animal with more ease than expected.

When she hissed, he stopped but then must have realized her pain caused her reaction. Dillon carried her to a slab of rock and gently set her down.

She drowned in his scent, and this time, she had to restrain herself and the vampire from reaching out and taking what was so close at hand.

Catherine held her breath, but it didn't much help.

Although she had hoped to absorb her agony, she shook uncontrollably.

Please, don't let me hurt him, she repeated over and over in her mind like a prayer.

The moment he let go of her, she expelled the last bit of water and blood remaining in her stomach as he stepped aside.

"Are you all right?" he asked, probably because he didn't know what to say or do.

Catherine slowly gained control of herself, wishing he would be sensible and put a little distance between them. She opened her eyes, knowing they were glowing vampire blue.

He retreated a few steps away from her, unhurriedly and in a fashion that said he did not do it out of fear but because he understood her situation.

She took a deep, cleansing breath, but still, the scent of prey almost overwhelmed her. The vampire surged and, to her surprise, settled without her having to fight it.

What in damnation? Why is it reacting differently to this man than it would to any other human, she wondered.

"I ruined your clothes," she bit out, not knowing how to answer him and wanting to distract him from the truth.

Never had she been further from fine.

Dillon glanced down at himself. Puss, blood, and bits of seared flesh clung to his hands and clothes.

He shrugged.

"They can be washed," he assured her.

I expected disgust. Or horror. A frown knitted her brow. Why does he trust me not to hurt him? More curiously, why do I trust him?

The pounding in her head made it hard to think, and Dillon was still too close for comfort.

He smells like food and salvation, she thought, expecting it to take everything she had to give to control her vampire. Why does it seem reluctant to attack this man? She wondered but was grateful for the reprieve.

An end to my pain is so close and yet unreachable, she thought. Forbidden by both my sense of honor and my father.

But it was more than that.

Dillon stalked off, returning to the horses as she gathered the courage to get to the stream, even if she had to crawl over the rounded boulders and rocks.

The scent of fresh water cleansed her lungs as the serene cascade of fast-running water soothed her ragged nerves. A bird sang in a nearby tree, and some of the tension flowed from her body. There was no sound of pursuit she could detect as she listened and scanned her surroundings.

Incredibly, we are safe for now, but we dare not linger here longer than necessary. Soon enough, the enemy will come. She carefully shifted her legs over the side of her perch and hissed in pain.

It was all suddenly almost too much for her, and a sob caught in her throat, but she fought against it, knowing that if she gave in to her emotions, everything would catch up to her.

I would fall apart, which is the last thing I can afford under the circumstances.

The unexpected scent of human blood brought her vampire rearing past her defenses like an avalanche. She never even had a chance to react. Its primal power pushed her aside as its mindless hunger consumed them both.