Dillon had observed Catherine for years but with the eyes of an opponent measuring an enemy's strengths and weaknesses. He had evaluated and kept track of all their allies in the same way.

Unlike the other humans in this alliance, I do not expect the uneasy union with the vampires against the threat posed by the East to last forever. Such an assumption would be naïve, he thought.

"Do you trust your own shadow?" A beloved voice from his past asked.

He shook his head—he would be the first to admit his baggage was impressive.

"Remember, young master, that trust is a commodity but also a necessity." Humboldt, his mentor, often had to remind him of that.

The edge of his mouth twisted into a sad smile.

"The man who stands alone in battle falls alone." Humboldt was fond of that one, and he missed the old codger.

The servant would have liked Catherine, he admitted to himself. Although he might have been wary of her, he'd have seen into her heart as he did with that hard-headed and hurt child I was once.

The early evening wind stirred the trees, rustling the leaves and reminding him not to lose track of his surroundings.

What would my old teacher think of what happened today? He wondered, but he could already hear Humboldt's voice in his head.

"Young master, a smart man knows what to say, but a wise man knows whether to say it."

He clearly pictured the wiry old man down to his perfectly pleated cravat.

With the upbringing he had, there was no scenario where Lord Dillon would not have spoken up for Catherine. Especially when it became clear no one else would.

I could not watch her die when every fiber of my being railed against it.

"Life consists of victories and lessons," Humboldt often reminded him. "When something isn't a victory, it is a lesson."

Today's lesson might cost me everything, but I'd die knowing I did the right thing, he thought, a frown tugging at his brow. Not the wise thing, but the right thing.

When all was said and done, Catherine wasn't just another vampire; she was a woman and not just any female.

She has fought our enemies just like any of her counterparts, and I respect her as I do not respect most of her kind.

He noted the strengthening gloom.

Soon, it will be dark, and it might be wise to stop for the night for the horse's sake, although it would leave me vulnerable to the attack of those who walk the night.

Still, he could not bring himself to stop, and the hair on the back of his neck stood upright. Even so, his thoughts roamed the past as he pushed on.

Humboldt had raised him to have compassion when needed, but the bigger truth was that he had hated the sound of Catherine's pain or the thought that such an exquisite beauty should be spoiled... destroyed and ended so cruelly.

"A master rules over those that serve him, but a man stands up for those who cannot stand up for themselves." It was Humboldt's favorite saying.

I would probably have done the same thing if she were plain or ugly, and I didn't fancy her, he admitted. Truth be told, it was her eyes, nay the soul behind those eyes, which compelled me to speak despite my better judgment.

Although some believed vampires had no souls, he disagreed.

"When all else fails, young master, trust your gut." It was one of the last sage pieces of advice Humboldt left him with as the old man lay on his sickbed.

Lord Dillon was no fool, and although Catherine might kill him for his trouble, she intrigued him in a way no other woman has.

Never have I met a woman like her, he mused, and she has no equal among her kind.

He reined in his horse, his gaze raking the darkness for a safe resting place. The afternoon had passed more quickly than he anticipated under the forest canopy.

This life to which Eduardo condemned his daughter would change her, chafing until it destroyed her inside, and it would be a great pity, he thought, still unable to keep his mind from wandering to her.

Although a head shorter than him, she was tall for a woman. The sun sparked her dark hair with a glint of auburn highlights, and even if he didn't know her from Adam, he would not mistake her for a human or a commoner.

Her father's blood is too undeniably powerful.

"A wise man listens to his heart but does not allow emotion to rule his decisions," Humboldt's sayings kept intruding into his mind.

That had been a painful lesson that cost me dearly. Memories of Ulna surfaced. Her deception was still a bitter reminder that no woman—human or vampire—would ever control him again.

Even so, Catherine intrigued him.

That face might even drive a man to commit poetry. Although far from buxom, he thought with a sigh, she has curves in all the right places.

Having seen all of her that there was to see, more than the understanding that she could snap him in half like a twig deterred him from viewing her as anything other than a threat.

I would be concerned if I didn't live alone in my castle with my family, who are long since gone, he admitted. She'd pose a danger to others who might not understand my predicament—assuming I survive long enough to reach home.

As is, he worried about what would happen once he let her loose in a castle filled with his servants and people.

I don't regret what I did, he decided. Her eyes would have haunted me until the day I died if I just stood there and watched her die.

He had read her emotions too well, the betrayal too, and he knew everything about that emotion. It initially drove him to set out on his mission to convince his people of the threat the East posed, but his earlier actions might end his plans before he even began.

His jaw squared, and his grip tightened on the reins.

Catherine's inhuman gaze had blazed like the sky on fire, burning with emotions her face never showed. Although her vampire gaze duplicated her father's, Eduardo's irises had grown dark with fury and self-righteous anger.

"Remember, young master, the eyes are the window to the soul, but even eyes can lie," Humboldt's voice again interrupted his musings.

Dillon sometimes had the distinct impression that someone broke Humboldt's heart, disillusioning him in some cruel fashion.

Until this day, he thought Eduardo was among the better examples of his kind and found himself surprised to be so wrong.

He had watched Catherine and Eduardo interact in the past and found their close bond reassuringly human. Seeing vampires capable of such profound emotions had eased his mind, but now he didn't know what to think.

If it weren't for Catherine herself, I would consider my judgment skewed, assuming my uncle was right—vampires are cold, arrogant, and incapable of empathy.

Catherine understood that Dillon allowed her the opportunity to leave and take her chances. Like him, she appreciated that he would not see another sunset if she did. If she did that, she would spend the rest of her life praying for death if Hellenic caught her or living with the guilt of Dillon's blood on her hands if she somehow escaped.

Her new master knew she dared not depart, and it stung. A part of her wanted to defy him and escape into the wilderness, taking her chances, but the weight of the blood bond, the vulnerability of her weakened body, and the looming threat of Hellenic made her pause. They needed each other if either were to survive this, and she was not used to needing anyone.

The vampire's all-consuming hunger roared through her insides, and the torturous sweet smell of Dillon's blood called to her like a siren song.

Catherine stalked the forest, and even from a distance, she could detect and hear him. She could tell he pushed the horses and kept to the path, waiting for her.

She picked up a scent trail and shifted her gaze. The road is a dangerous place for him, she decided, and realizing that she never truly had a choice, she bowed to fate. I must hurry.

The scent of something wild and vital caught her attention, and she sniffed the air, allowing the vampire to take her over. Although letting her nature rule her was never comfortable, if she wanted to hunt effectively, it was the only way. Reason would only slow things down and get in the way.

The trees passed by her in a blur as she instinctively avoided obstacles, and the red heat of smaller animals briefly caught her attention before settling on something large enough to provide all she needed.

With a quiet snarl, the predator settled into hunting mode. She moved silently through the woods, keeping her profile as low as possible. The male deer lifted its head, its left eye opened wide, its nostrils flared, and its muscles tensed, but it was already too late.

With a low hiss, she sprang forward and took it down as if it were not twice her size. It stilled in her arms for a moment before kicking out, but her fangs sank into its neck, and it froze as her venom paralyzed it. The animal's thundering heart slowed down, and its breathing settled as its muscles relaxed.

She hated the sensation of its hair in her mouth, but the life-giving blood did what it was supposed to do, healing her and restoring her. Nor did she appreciate its wild, musky taste. Under different circumstances, she could have let the buck go. It would not even remember what happened, but she was not the only one who needed sustenance.

When she pushed forward, the vampire briefly resisted her, snarling possessively, but she had no time to waste grappling with it and claimed her space much more forcefully than she ever had. It settled into the background like a sulking child as she snapped the deer's neck.

Darren had not reclaimed the skinning knife from her, and she made short work of removing the hind leg. It saddened her to waste so much meat, but the forest teamed with wildlife that would make short work of the feast.

Contrary to popular belief, vampires did eat, but sparingly. Food alone could not sustain her for more than a few days. And without balancing it with blood, it would eventually make her sick instead of helping to curb her appetite.

Catherine lifted her head, staring in the direction Lord Darren took as she wiped her mouth on a small square of his old shirt she had taken as a precaution when dressing herself. Taking the meat, she flitted into the forest, finding the trail with ease and following the telltale signs that horses had passed over the leafy forest floor.

If I can find it with such ease, so can our enemies, she realized but spotted no signs of anyone else passing that way. The scent of human became stronger, laced with the powerful aroma of his blood, but it now did not affect her.

Leaving the path, she went ahead and waited for him to come into view around the next bend, checking her clothes for signs of blood. Despite her hunger, the only stains on her clothes were from her wounds, which were now gone.

Catherine stepped from the protective shadow of a tree into the path to give him ample time to recognize her. The horses panicked and shied before he spotted her.

She waited for them to recognize her and calm down before approaching them while pretending not to see relief in Dillon's eyes.

Yet he does not seem surprised. The knowledge that he read her well stung.

"Forgive me, my lord, but I brought only what I thought we could use." Even that was far more than they could eat in a week. They also didn't have the luxury of time to cure the meat or even cook it as yet.

"That will do."

Dillon's eyes were restless and haunted as he peered into the darkening forest.

Catherine's indolence after feeding evaporated.

His fear is not only of me, and his feelings are justified, she realized. We are running out of time.

"Yes, master."

I momentarily forgot this is no longer a safe place for me. Her lips thinned, and her expression became stern. Dillon and I are the hunted because Eduardo dragged him into a matter that was not his concern.

I owe him my life, she admitted. It is the only honor I have left and the last thing genuinely mine to give, except that even that now belongs to him. All of me does.

The idea infuriated her, but it wasn't his fault.

Dillon noticed that Catherine's eyes were less intensely vampire blue, and the strain had disappeared.

She is almost indolent, like the well-fed predator she is. It sent a shiver down his spine and a warning to his brain.

Why does it feel like being within petting distance of a lioness who has already spotted me and pretends not to have done so for her own reasons? Her eyes flickered toward him, fixating on the vein in his throat, and his pulse quickened. It can't be hunger. Her gaze betrays that she fed well enough that she is almost back to her old self, but some of her wounds would take days to heal.

Perhaps she liked the taste of your blood, a sinister little voice whispered sibilantly in his mind. Against every instinct inside him, a little thrill sped like lightning through his body.

The moment passed, and her gaze returned to the darkening woods.

The vampire must hunt at least twice more in the days to come... A frown furrowed his brow, and his hands tightened on the reins. But the possibility exists that we will not make it through the night. With the sun setting, Hellenic will slip his leash or send someone in his stead. I saw the look in his eyes as Catherine ascended the horse before we left her father's castle. Never have I seen such darkness.

A soft rustling in the underbrush made his hand frame tighten, and his hand brushed the hilt of his dagger. It could have been a rabbit or something else. The night was closing in and it felt like unseen eyes watched them from every shadow.