Starting at Leonard's place of employment was the exact right term. As it usually went, the people at the gas station hadn't seen Leonard in two days, but they could give her the name of someone they thought might be his girlfriend. The girlfriend, who was a very lovelorn and—thanks to her visit, now grieving—Witch, gave her the name of one of Leonard's poker buddies, who gave her the name and address of a friend of Leonard's...

And so the night went. Tracking down name after name, going from person to person, hitting some of the places where Leonard regularly used his bank card and checking a few of the local haunts.

It was good, old fashioned footwork that took most of the night and got them absolutely nowhere. As usual. But, that was how hunting worked. Otherwise, it would be called finding. And then just any old Joe off the street would be able to do her job.

Just before dawn, they pulled onto Shoreline Drive and Noah parked just down the street, putting Mace under the wheel so he could go into the building first. Once the all clear was given, Mace rolled on into the garage and everyone piled out.

The horrible scent of lye and dissolving flesh hit Bethalie straight in the face, forcing her to rush for the elevator while trying not to breathe. Everyone herded in after her and they chugged upwards to the loft in dead silence. Apparently, she wasn't the only one who was too exhausted to bother trying to speak.

Once they hit the apartment, she went straight to her sleeping loft, pulled off her weapons belt and placed it beside the bed within easy reach. She tossed her coat over a chair, stripped down to her underwear, and fell onto the mattress. She had never felt so...drained. She was actually surprised her heart had the energy to keep beating.

Bethalie was only vaguely aware of Noah coming into her loft and saying something to her, but she couldn't catch the words. In fact, she couldn't even hold her eyes open and once she closed them, it only took seconds before she was lost in the blackness.

*  *  *  *  *  *

Bethalie's mind awoke, but it took quite a while before she could muster the energy to open her eyes. And when she finally managed it, after what felt like hours of struggling, she was stunned to find bright daylight filling her sleeping loft. Glancing at the clock on the bedside table, she saw that it was nearly two o'clock in the afternoon. A bit shocked that she'd slept so long, she forced her body to move, sitting upright, and pausing to try and get her head to stop spinning, before sliding out of bed and stumbling across the room on legs that felt about as sturdy as cooked noodles.

Carefully, she got herself into the bathroom, flipped on the light, and stopped to lean against the sink to catch her breath, which seemed a little harder than it should have been considering she'd only walked a few feet. Glancing at her reflection in the mirror, she received a hard jolt. Holy crap! She looked like something that had died and returned!

She was so unnaturally pale, she couldn't even dredge up a word to describe the ghastly pallor of her face...which also bore dark circles beneath her eyes and hollows beneath her cheek bones. Her usually vivid eyes looked tired and lifeless, her lips were colorless and parched. She looked like she'd been fighting the flu for weeks, only she didn't feel like she had the flu. But, she did feel like she was about to drop from exhaustion. Even her bones felt too tired to hold her up.

Perfect. She was probably coming down with a new, unidentified strain of rodent influenza. She did spent a lot of time skulking about vermin infested alleyways.

Gathering what strength she had, she made it to the shower and stepped in, turning on the water and washing herself as quickly as she could. She didn't have the energy to waste dawdling. She cut the water and stepped out the shower door to find Noah leaning against the sink, watching her intently. Letting his gaze sweep over her, his eyes grew wide, but not in a way that she would consider flattering.

His reaction was a hit to her feminine ego, but oh well. Reaching for her towel, Bethalie wrapped it around herself and took a few steps forward only to realize that she couldn't seem to feel the floor beneath her feet. Noah sucked in a sharp breath and instantly had her in his arms, lifting her up and effortlessly carrying her from the bathroom.

"I can walk," she told him, wishing the words didn't sound so weak and breathy.

"I don't think you can," Noah said, depositing her onto the bed. "I'll get your clothes."

Bethalie shooed him away from her and stood, trying to maintain as much of her dignity as she could. "I can dress myself," she said haughtily, moving toward her wardrobe and wishing her knees weren't knocking together. She probably looked like a clumsy baby stork learning to take its first steps.

"Bethalie, you're ill. Let me help you," Noah said sternly, scooping her up and whisking her back to the bed.

She tried to be irritated, but it was difficult to find the strength to hold onto any form of emotion. "Everything's in the wardrobe," she said tiredly, hating herself for her weakness, but it was what it was.

Noah made for the wardrobe and began pulling out clothes, bringing them back and then standing by while she discarded her towel and tried to dress. However, her efforts failed and Noah had to step in and offer his assistance, which she had no choice but to accept. He had to help her hook her bra and button her jeans and zip up her boots because she couldn't manage to grip anything. Once her clothes were on, he put an arm around her waist and led her across the sleeping loft and down the stairs. She managed it, but by the bottom step she was damp with perspiration and her legs were no longer able to hold her weight, so Noah lifted her up into his arms and swept her toward the kitchen.

"Evyn!" he bellowed, although she and Mace were already in the kitchen. "Bethalie needs food! Quickly! She's ill!"

She was placed in a chair at the table and Evyn and Mace both turned to look at her. Evyn let out a little cry of despair and Mace visibly flinched, making her feel much better about herself.

"She needs to feed!" Noah barked, causing Evyn, who'd gone three shades paler, to jump to her feet.

The woman instantly began buzzing around the kitchen, but kept her large, terrified eyes on Bethalie. She wanted to tell her assistant that everything was okay and there was no need to worry, but her teeth were clicking together so hard she couldn't, which was strange considering that she was bathed in sweat.

Mace got to his feet and hurried to get her a glass of water, bringing it back and holding it out to her. "Bethalie, maybe we should get you to a hospital. Something is wrong—"

"She can't go to a hospital, Tuck!" Noah snapped, grabbing the water and plunking it down in front of her. "She has my blood in her veins and a hospital will expose that fact! They can't help her anyway! She just..." he turned his large eyes to Bethalie, looking...tormented, "she just needs to feed. She's too weak."

Mace sat down across the table, taking no offense to Noah's tone and behavior. Noah sat down next to Bethalie, putting his arm around her shoulders and picking up the water. "Drink, Bethalie," he said gently, raising the glass to her lips. "It might help."

She felt like a complete fool for not being in control of herself, but she truly could not help it at the moment, so she took a sip of water, hoping it would help whatever the hell was wrong with her.

"Drink," he urged softly. "You need sustenance."

She obeyed, but mostly because she had no choice. Noah patiently helped her sip her water while Evyn clattered around the kitchen, banging pans and whirring the blender and rattling around in the fridge. In only a few minutes time, she began carrying food to the table, putting down a bowl of salad, a plate of pita sandwiches, some apple slices, and a bottle of Stat for Noah, already opened for him. For Bethalie, she had a huge Caramel Mocha Frappé.

"I made you a big glass, double strength," Evyn said, her face pinched and worried. "I thought the caffeine might help."

Noah forewent the water and turned to the coffee, first pushing the bottle of Stat across the table. She was glad because she could smell the liquid inside and it was probably because she was weak, but in that instant she felt that she could have killed everyone at the table for just one swallow from that bottle. But, Noah lifted the glass of strong coffee to her, placing the straw between her lips, and she took a sip. And the bottle of food wasn't so important anymore. The coffee was strong and bitter, but tasted like sweet nectar on her tongue, and as it hit her belly she instantly began to feel better. Slightly better, albeit, but still...better.

Since she was able to drink the coffee, Noah let her finish some of it before picking up a sandwich and bringing it to her mouth. She wasn't really interested in it, but she didn't want to be down any longer than she had to be and if food would help, then she'd eat. Noah fed her some of everything, giving her coffee in between bites, a very tight and strange expression on his face.

Mace and Evyn both watched, Mace's expression dire and Evyn's pale and stricken. By the time she finished eating enough for Noah's liking and had drank enough caffeine to explode her heart, she was feeling well enough to shoo Noah away from her and drink the last of her coffee under own strength.

"Feeling better are you?" Noah asked amicably, though his eyes and expression did not seem so amicable.

Bethalie nodded. "I think I'll be okay now."

Noah studied her for a long minute before he stood from the table and picked up his own food, walking across the kitchen to drink it. He did not need to give voice to the fact that...it wasn't the food that helped. It was the two quarts of double strength coffee.

"We have deliveries and pick-ups tomorrow and bodies to dispose of, so I'm going down to get started," she said hoarsely, getting to her feet. She took a second to check the steadiness of her appendages, which seemed fairly back to normal.

"Bethalie, you should go right back to bed," Evyn stated, still looking stricken even though there was no reason for it. "You're not up to doing anything today."

"I'm fine. You don't need to worry about me," she assured easily.

Nothing had ever prevented her from working before and it wouldn't now. It would probably take her body a while to recover from that brief bout with dead, but it would. In the meantime, she'd muddle through.

"I'll help you," Mace said, standing and moving around the table.

Noah was beside her before Mace had taken more than three steps. "We will help you," he said stonily, putting his arm around her shoulders.

She really wanted to stake Noah Grey.

She wanted to stake him, paralyze him, dump him in some dark alleyway, and leave him there so the rodents could gnaw his eyeballs right out of his head.

Bethalie glanced up at the Vampire towering over her. He was looking down at her with worried eyes, his ruggedly handsome face hard with tension. God, she wanted to waltz across the room, grab a stake from her cupboard, and plunge it straight through him. She wanted to do it. She ached to do it! She actually pictured herself doing it! She could feel herself reveling in the sweet freedom it would bring her.

But, she didn't take a single step toward her cupboard. She simply...couldn't. Something inside her would no more allow her to drive a stake through Noah Grey's heart than it would allow her to drive a stake through her own.

Damned stupid friggin' blood bond! She honestly hadn't counted on it setting in so fast...or so thoroughly.

"Bethalie, what's wrong?" Noah asked, an edge of panic in his voice.

She felt her shoulders droop. She was whipped. Dear Mother Earth, she was a whipped woman. What good was she anymore?

"Bethalie? What is it? Can you speak?" Noah questioned. He was a heartbeat away from scooping her up and taking her back to the table.

"I-I-I....I mean...I just..." she let out a breath. She was pathetic. She had turned into a pathetic, whipped dog. Giving up any notion of ridding herself of Noah with physical force, at least for the foreseeable future, she stepped away from him and headed toward her sleeping loft. "I have to get my weapons belt," she muttered, hurrying across the space.

Thinking that her life was as good as over and trying to come to terms with that fact, Bethalie trudged up stairs and strapped her gear on, shrugged into her coat, and then trudged back down to the living area, heavy with the knowledge that she was no longer Bethalie Sanderson the Ward. She was Bethalie Sanderson the weak, whipped, worthless...woman. She was a mere shadow of her former self, a mere shell of the strong, independent warrior-woman she had been only a couple of days before.

Her life was suddenly in the toilet and she had no idea how she was supposed to recover and move on.

Noah and Mace were waiting for her by the front door and they both followed her out of the loft and into the elevator, where she shrank back into the corner, feeling irritated and wretchedly pathetic. She tried to ignore the way both Mace and Noah were eyeing her like they expected her to crumple to the floor at any second.

The elevator touched down and Noah opened the door, making sure the garage was clear before allowing her to step out. As soon as she did, the scent of lye and burned flesh struck her in the face, turning her stomach. She fought against it because she couldn't afford to lose the food she'd just eaten and forced her legs to carry her out into the vast space. Trying to breathe as little as possible, she hurried past the vehicles and over to the empty barrels and the only hand held trolley left, but Mace and Noah were right behind her, jumping in to load the barrels on. Leaving them to it, she made for the shovels hanging on the walls, waiting for the barrels to be wheeled over.

"Bethalie, go back upstairs and allow us to do this. You don't need to empty your stomach when you're so weak," Noah stated in a chiding tone.

"I can do it," she said past her clenched jaw, taking the shovel and scooping up some of the Mix while Mace opened a barrel.

If the scent had been as strong as the day before she might not have been able to manage, but the bodies were dissolved now and the remaining scent was...tolerable. She flatly refused to be weak and helpless, so she shoveled away alongside Mace and Noah until the remaining barrels were filled. It only took about an hour to clean up what remained of the two Vampires, dump the last three bodies, which had been stashed in the furnace room, into the trough, though it was like playing Jenga trying to fit them all in, cover them with Mix, and then wheel the sealed barrels out into the back alleyway to sit with the others. Mace returned back inside to put away the shovels and Bethalie took a minute to lean against the building and breathe in the clean, briny air, trying to replace the stench of burned flesh with the salt of the sea.

"Are you alright?" Noah asked, leaning against the wall beside her.

"I'm good," she said hoarsely, lifting her face to feel the light mist hanging in the air.

"I think you may be the single most stubborn person I have ever met," Noah told her.

"Thank you," she answered him.

Something very uncomfortable ran through her belly, irritating her and making her want to throw up a little. She tried to ignore it, but it nagged at her so she finally just gave in. She was already whipped, so what was one more humiliation thrown onto the pile?

"And also...th-th...thank you...for-for...everything. For...h-helping me w-with all this...and...everything. Thank you."

There! It was out! She felt her stomach roll around inside her.

Noah smiled crookedly, the smile changing his brooding face into something light and pleasant and...appealing. "Wow, that must have been painful for you."

It was. It really, really was. "Eh, not so much."

"You don't need to thank me.  Helping you...taking care of you...its the least I can do, considering that you wouldn't be in this situation had it not been for my family.  And neither would I," he shrugged.

This situation where she wanted to lap blood up off the floor and he was forever attached to someone who did not want to be attached...

"You were in pretty bad shape this morning, Bethalie," he said casually. "I thought...I thought you were going to leave us."

So did she.

"You're still very weak from losing so much blood. You need to keep yourself nourished. Otherwise, you might be forced to feed in a way that you don't want."

"Have you talked to your family today?" she asked, changing the subject.

"Indeed," he said.

"Will your father call off the dogs?" she wondered.

"My father won't speak to me. But, my mother is trying to talk some sense into him. It's a long process, though. He doesn't forgive and forget so easily. My mother wishes us good luck in the meantime, though."

"That's comforting," she said.

"Isn't it?"

She opened her mouth to speak, but a sound caught her attention. It was a faint sound, coming from far in the distance. She thought it was thunder rumbling from somewhere over the mountains, so faint she would have missed it had she not been paying attention. However, after a second of concentrating, she realized it wasn't thunder. That reverberation filling the air was the sound of heavy footsteps pounding the ground. And those footsteps were moving fast. Very fast.

Company was coming. And coming in droves, judging by the sound.

"Bethalie, get inside," Noah said, pushing away from the wall, his body tensed for battle.

A surge of adrenaline raced through Bethalie and her thoughts instantly went to Mace and Evyn. With her blood pumping, she rushed back into the garage, spotting Mace waiting by the elevator. "Mace get up to Evyn and stay there! Have her lock down the elevator!" she shouted at him, knowing it wouldn't be much of a deterrent, but it was the best they could do. That order given, Bethalie was back out in the alleyway, her thoughts focused on only one thing. Making sure those footsteps followed her away from the building and away from Evyn.

"Bethalie! No!" she heard Noah bellow.

But, she was already off, flying from the alleyway and out into the street. She didn't even pause as she surged away from her building, having no clear destination or plan in mind. She was just running, trying to put some distance between herself and her loft and praying that whoever was coming for her would rather chase her than bother with stopping there.

With desperation to keep Evyn safe driving her, she was running as fast as her legs could carry her, running so fast the world around her was melting away into nothing more than a blur of distorted colors and shapes, making it impossible to keep her bearings. She was moving with a speed that was mind boggling...feeling as if her feet were barely skimming the ground...the sound of the wind screaming past filling her ears, reminding her of being lost in the middle of a storm.

A part of her mind was considering the thought of heading out of the city, of running until she had no asphalt left to run on, but that would only be postponing the inevitable. It was probably wiser to stand and fight on familiar ground.

With a suddenness that caused her insides to jolt, she skidded to a halt, going still and giving her brain several seconds to catch up with the rest of her. When she was able to take a look around, she found herself standing at the mouth of an alleyway that she recognized. She had made it to the outskirts of the Waterfront District, about five miles away from her garage, in what seemed only a matter of moments. And if she listened, she could hear those heavy footsteps in the distance, getting closer, catching up to her.

Which was exactly what she wanted...but that didn't make the moment any less harrowing.

Looking around, she weighed her options, quickly realizing...she had none. She hurried down to the middle of the narrow alleyway that was filled with rotting garbage and pieces of discarded furniture that stank of mildew. The stench in the alley was enough to knock the wind from her lungs, but she didn't have time to deal with it because those reverberating footsteps were only blocks away now, sounding like thunder rolling in off the harbor. They were fast. Much faster than her. But, they'd been doing this longer than she had.

Figuring that her only advantage in the situation was that they could only come at her from two sides, she swiftly unsheathed her baton with her left hand and unholstered her .45 with her right, figuring there were just too many to take on hand to hand. She only hoped they weren't armed, too.

As that thought crossed her mind, the booming footsteps barreled down on the alley and then...they appeared. At least half a dozen of them, creating a hulking wall of bodies and fangs that blocked the entire mouth of the alleyway.

Oh shit.

A heartbeat later the world exploded into a haze of distorted motion that her mind didn't even try to analyze. All she could do was react to the bodies that were suddenly coming at her.

She fired off three shots within a split second, dropping two of the Vampires just as the others charged her. And then her baton was slicing through the air, connecting with bodies as she tried to take out knees and elbows while simultaneously firing her weapon...the muffled rapport of her Recon echoing inside her skull as she unloaded into the wave of Vampires falling in on her. But, her attackers were moving too fast for her to take accurate aim and her bullets failed to strike more than one of them. It only took seconds for the clip to be emptied so she tossed the gun, grabbed her second baton and extended it all in one swift motion.

The Vampires hadn't expected bullets and they clearly hadn't expected her to be almost as quick as they were, because they hadn't managed to lay a hand on her and she was able to bring three of them to the ground, where they lay writhing and spewing smoke. But, as the third body fell, one of the remaining Vamps managed to reach her, hitting her full force and slamming her into the side of a building hard enough to shift her bones beneath her skin. She felt hands seize her throat and jerk her away from the wall, whipping her around through the air, and her body responded, letting go of a baton and unsheathing her Bowie knife, swinging it at the Vamp with all her strength. The Vampire roared as she plunged the silver blade into the side of his neck, driving it in up to the hilt, and then pushing it forward with all her strength, hearing the sharp snap and feeling the resistance give way as it sliced through his spine and exited the back of his neck.

Almost instantly, she was taken to the ground, landing hard as the Vampire's full weight fell on top of her, pushing the air out of her lungs. She barely had time to realize what she'd done before the downed Vamp was lifted off her and flung aside. In the time it took for her to pull in a breath, one of his cohorts was on her, grabbing her wrists and trapping them above her head, rendering her baton and knife useless.

Bethalie braced herself as the Vampire opened his mouth and showed his teeth. He had her. Dead to rights. She was going to have her throat torn out in a rat infested, garbage strewn alleyway that stank of filth and rot...

It was kind of how she expected to go out, actually.

The sharp teeth came at her and despite her readiness to meet her maker, her reflexes kicked in, and she jerked her head upwards, smashing her forehead into the Vamp's mouth, the immediate spray of blood hitting her face and the anguished bellow filling her ears. The Vamp was thrown for an instant and Bethalie took that split second of opportunity to wrench her hand free. Her Bowie knife happened to be clutched in that hand and without hesitation she drove the blade straight into his face as hard as she could, landing it right between his eyes. A part of her was stunned that she'd managed to thrust it through his skull with such ease. It hadn't ever been that effortless before. As the blade cracked through bone and the scent of burning flesh assailed her nostrils, she drew the knife back and shoved the body over sideways, trying to ignore the resulting surge of blood spilling from the puncture wound.

Free of the weight, she jumped to her feet...and almost as soon as she was upright, something crashed into her from behind and she was sent sprawling forward onto the asphalt, hitting it with enough force to rattle her teeth. Even before the impact stopped rocketing through her body, she was flipped over onto her back, finding herself staring up at the death mask of one very pissed off Vampire. He swiftly drew his fist back to land the blow that would crush her skull, but in a lightning move that startled even her, she thrust her arm upward and drove the knife blade into his gut, following it with every ounce of her body's weight, propelling the Vampire backwards so that he was suddenly lying on the asphalt and she was on her knees, straddling him. As soon as his body touched the ground, she carried the momentum of the knife straight upwards, the blade forcing its way through clothing and skin and bone alike, and she didn't stop until she hit his chin. He fell open like a gutted fish, exposing meat and viscera, and a massive surge of blood bubbled forth, overflowing, drenching the Vamp's clothes and splashing onto the asphalt beneath him.

The scent rose up and struck her right in the face, so rich and velvety and...wholesome...that she sprung to her feet and stumbled backward to get away from it, only she couldn't because the knife, as well as her hands, were all covered in it. She was overwhelmed by the scent and the color and the warmth of that crimson liquid and by the sudden physical urge to taste that liquid.

In that moment, she wanted nothing more than to bring the dripping knife blade up to her mouth and run her tongue across it, she wanted nothing more than to lift her fingers to her mouth and lick that ruby nectar from them one by one.

Appalled by that thought, Bethalie tossed the knife away from her and reeled backward several more feet, needing to put some distance between herself and the lifeless, bleeding corpse at her feet. As the knife clattered to the ground, she felt her back hit the distinctive wall of someone's body and she whipped around, her fists swinging because she'd lost both her batons somewhere along the way. She struck her target full force and head on, the jolt of the impact radiating down her arms and into her shoulders.

"Damn! Bethalie, it's me!" a voice shouted at her. Bethalie recognized the tone, but she couldn't stop herself from smashing her fist into the person's jaw again and then lifting a boot to slam it dead center into the knee cap. A roar of agony exploded on the air and the body dropped to the ground. "Bethalie, stop! It's me!"

A strangled gasp flew out of Bethalie's throat and she had to stop herself from smashing her fists against that familiar, ruggedly handsome face. As she halted her onslaught, a sharp pang of fear shot through her and she whipped back around, facing the rest of the alleyway, prepared to keep fighting anything that was still standing.

However, it appeared that she was the only thing left standing.

There were six...no, seven...bodies littering the alleyway, some riddled with bullets, others filleted like slabs of meat, all of them dead, their bodies twitching and smoking and...bleeding...

But, had she killed that many? By herself? Surely...not...

Standing in the middle of all that carnage suddenly became too much. The sight of all that blood...the color, the scent, the way the taste of it fell on her tongue like soft, luxurious flakes of crimson snow...was just too much for her. She had to get away before she was driven to do something she could not live with! Turning, she shot for the end of the alleyway, nearly tripping over the body behind her in her haste to get away. She pitched forward and would have went sprawling if strong hands hadn't grabbed her shoulders and righted her.

"Damn it!" Noah swore as he spun her around to face him, the waft of smoke as he touched her coat causing him to let go of her just as quickly. "Bethalie, they're all dead! You don't have to keep running!"

It wasn't that. It was the scent of the freshly spilled blood! It was so thick she couldn't take a breath without tasting it! And she was covered in it! She needed to get away from the alley and get the blood washed off her! She needed to get as clean as she could before she gave in and...licked every drop of that glistening, rosy essence from her hands. Her mouth started watering at the very notion, which only increased the panic racing through her.

Noah was looking down at her as though he suddenly understood what she was thinking, even though she hadn't spoken. Had she? Wordlessly, he slid his hands beneath the front of her coat and helped her shrug out of it, letting it to the fall the ground before putting an arm around her shoulders and whisking her out of the alleyway. Once they were well away from the bodies and the...temptation...Noah very quickly and efficiently stripped off her shirt and used it clean her hands and face, which was spattered with blood, too, taking great care with the process before going back to toss the soiled fabric into the alley. He then unbuttoned his own shirt, slid it off, and helped her into it. She tried to work the buttons, but her hands were shaking so badly she had to give up and allow Noah to do it for her.

"We need Evyn and the van. We have to get rid of the bodies before someone sees them," she rasped, trying not to stare at Noah's exposed torso.

It was a very chiseled and muscular torso, with sculpted shoulders, a flat, washboard stomach, and large, shapely biceps. Under the circumstance, she felt perhaps a little more interested in that stunning form than she should have been.

Noah swiftly disappeared back into the alleyway and then reappeared with her phone in his hand. With no instruction from her, he hit the Walkie App. "Evyn?" he said into the phone.

"Noah? What's going on? Is Bethalie alright?" Evyn's voice quickly replied.

"Everything's fine. We need you to bring the van to..." he paused to glance up and down the deserted street, "Sevier Street. Get here as quickly as you can. Out." Noah slid the phone into his back pocket and turned his hazel eyes to Bethalie. "Why on earth did you run? I almost didn't get here in time," he said to her, his voice suddenly as hard as nails.

"I had to lead them away from Evyn," she responded in a quavering tone that she instantly hated herself for.

"They nearly killed you, Bethalie! If I had been a split second later, your head would have been taken off! You didn't even see him coming!" he growled, his tone harsh. "Why didn't you stay with me? Why didn't you let me protect you!"

"I couldn't stay near Evyn. And I got most of them," she said defensively.

"I know. But, it only takes one of them to end you! A half a second later and it would have been over! You shouldn't have risked yourself like this! You should have stayed with me!"

She felt like she was being scolded by her mother. If she hadn't felt so unsteady and unfocused, she would have shown him exactly how she felt about that.

"I couldn't stay close to Evyn," she repeated, trying to be patient and trying not to stare at his broad, bare chest, which had just enough hair sprinkled about to make some small piece of her mind wander down a path that was highly inappropriate, given the current situation.

Noah looked at her, a muscle in his jaw working hard. "Why are you so stubborn? Are you simply determined to die!"

She shrugged. She didn't mean to be stubborn. She just...was.

Noah huffed out a sigh, the nerve in his jaw still ticking. "It's clear that I'm going to have my hands full looking after you, Ward."

"Humph!" she shot at him, noticing the shirt she was draped in smelled clean and masculine and heady. "You don't have to look after me. You're doing it because you want to. If I had my druthers, you and your hands wouldn't be anywhere near me."

So there, Noah Grey! Take that!

"That sounded like a dare, Bethalie," he said darkly.

A surge of adrenaline shot through Bethalie, stiffening her spine. "What the hell do you—" her words were suddenly cut off by Noah reaching out and pulling her against his bare chest almost before she could blink.

He didn't give her an opportunity to react before he crushed his mouth to hers with just enough ferocity to cause her to gasp. There was a split second there when she thought she was going to kick his ass... Her body prepared for it, her muscles tightening in anticipation as her mind tossed up the most effectual places to land a few barehanded strikes. After all, Noah Grey was committing a depravity! He was a Vampire and she was a Ward! It went against...everything for him to be kissing her!

But, then again, it went against everything for him to save her life and bond them together.

After that first instant of shock, Bethalie felt herself start to unclench. Maybe she didn't have to kick his ass. Not just yet, anyway.

Noah's mouth moving over hers was nearly as hot as the flame of a candle, but it burned in a good way, in a way that had her muscles loosening and her thoughts straying off in a direction that stunned, yet intrigued, her. It only took a quick moment for her to find herself pressed up against the cold brick of a building and the next second his tongue was trying to urge its way past her lips.

That abrupt move had her thinking of protesting using an excessive amount of force, but she decided rather quickly that...maybe she didn't want to fight him. She might blame it on their blood bond later, she might even hate herself later, but at the moment...she saw no real reason to put a stop to what was happening.

And as that decision was made, she gave into what Noah was wanting her to do and she parted her lips, allowing him entrance. The feel of him invading her mouth was shocking...and yet heady. He tasted like heaven...sweet and wholesome and pure...with just a dash of hell sprinkled in...bitter and earthy and dark.

Noah's tongue began sliding over hers in long, sensual strokes, leaving behind a trail of heat as he moved and that sensation took Bethalie's breath away. Kissing Noah felt as if she was participating in something dangerous, something...forbidden. Maybe it was because of that searing heat. It almost felt like trying to taste fire.

And she was fairly certain that kissing Noah was probably just as foolish as trying to kiss a flickering flame...

Noah made a deep, animal like sound in the back of his throat that sent gooseflesh skittering up her spine and his large, overly warm hands were suddenly sliding down to cup her backside, lifting her up off her feet so that he could press his body into hers, allowing her to feel his...pieces...throbbing away like a steady heartbeat. And those pieces felt...sizable. The sensation of that hardened length pulsating against the zipper of her jeans was dizzying, and she found herself forgetting that she should not be engaging in this sort of activity with Noah Grey. In fact, she should have been fighting him off and then beating him into an unrecognizable pulp. Yet instead, she was focusing on the heat of his tongue as it slid over hers, the heat of his flesh seeping through her clothes, searing her skin, the way his bare chest felt beneath her fingers, so solid and unyielding.

Suddenly breaking their kiss, Noah lowered his mouth to the side of her neck, running his tongue along the vein there and that action caused something in the air about them to instantly change, to shift so that Bethalie found herself harboring images of naked bodies and entwined limbs and glistening fangs sinking into soft flesh. Those images caused a gush of moisture to collect between her thighs, startling her so that she flinched. She was slightly appalled that those thoughts could cause her to react in such a way.

Noah suddenly nipped her flesh with his teeth, bearing down enough to send pain radiating through her, which brought a sharp gasp up from her throat, but then he soothed the spot with the heat of his tongue and the pain swiftly disappeared. "Do not fear it, Bethalie," he whispered in her ear, pressing his body harder into hers. "It's meant to be this way between a man and his mate. I promise it isn't wrong."

Oh, but the images going through her mind seemed very, very wrong. And the way her lower half was beginning to grow heavy with need seemed more wrong still. Noah tightened his hands on her backside and crushed his throbbing arousal against her, letting out a low groan and holding himself there for a brief moment before abruptly setting her back onto her feet and stepping away, leaving her feeling confused and dizzy and...abandoned, which she would not have admitted to even under threat of dying a slow and painful death.

"We will continue this later," Noah said thickly, his hazel eyes dark and his breathing harsh.

From down the street the squeal of tires sounded out, drawing Bethalie's gaze in that direction, finding the utility van careening toward them. It screeched to a halt at the mouth of the alleyway and Mace and Evyn both jumped out and came running down the sidewalk, Evyn throwing herself at Bethalie, wrapping her in a bone bruising hug.

"Bethalie, you're alright! Thank god! I thought for sure..." Evyn's words halted as she stepped back to get a look at Bethalie. "Is this your blood! Are you hurt!" she demanded, obviously spying whatever blood Noah hadn't been able to clean away.

"It's not hers," Noah answered smoothly. "It belongs to the poor bastards in the alleyway."

Mace glanced back toward the alley and the two bodies slumped at the entrance. "Are those the only two?"

"There are seven," Noah answered. "And the five back at the garage."

"Bethalie!" Evyn exclaimed in horror. "Oh my god! No! No! That many of them came after you!"

"Likely, half were meant for her, the other half for me," Noah put in, clearly trying to be helpful.

"It doesn't matter how many of them came," Bethalie said, shooing the words away and trying to shake off the unsteadiness inside her. It was time to focus. "The only thing that matters is getting these bodies cleaned up before someone sees."

It needed to be done swiftly because she could not take on any more people. The van was already full.  If someone else came along and saw the mess, she'd have to snuff them. Period.

The four of them turned to move toward the alleyway and Evyn only then seemed to notice that Noah was half naked. "What happened? Why are you wearing his shirt?" she asked, sounding slightly accusatory.

"Mine was covered in blood," Bethalie answered, leaving it at that.

Bethalie stopped at the mouth of the alley, hanging back to keep away from the scent. Mace forged ahead, picking his way through the bodies and the gore, looking slightly overwhelmed and nauseous, while Noah got to the business of grabbing one of the Vamps by the legs and dragging him over to the van.

Evyn stood beside Bethalie, looking pale and drawn. "There are a lot of bodies, Bethalie. We aren't set up to get rid of so many all at once."

"I know," she agreed, trying hard not to focus on the carnage strewn out before her.

"More of them will be coming, you know," Evyn said.

"I know."

"You can't do this, Bethalie. You can't fight off these guys every other day and be expected to keep doing your work," stated Evyn matter-of-factly.

"I know," she sighed as Noah thunked a body into the back of the van. They wouldn't need the winch on this one.

Evyn was right. She couldn't work this way. Which meant that Noah was going to be fatherless just as soon as she could get out of Port Angeles. It was time to snip the head off the beast.

Evyn suddenly straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin with a measure of steely determination. "Alright, we need to see what we can do about this," she briskly declared, spinning around and hurrying to the van, grabbing her computer out and going at the keys with a fury.

"Bethalie...can you come here, please?" Mace called to her.

The tone of his voice drew Bethalie forward and into the alleyway, despite the blood splattered all over it. Something was wrong...and she couldn't let a little blood stop her from finding out what the problem was. Gritting her teeth and tensing every muscle in her body, she moved down the narrow throughway, keeping her eyes fixed steadfastly on Mace, who was standing near a rotting sofa at the opposite end. She made her way to him, refusing to even glance at the carcasses littering the asphalt, refusing to acknowledge the tantalizing taste that was landing on her tongue with every breath that she drew. Frankly, she found she was rather grateful for the stench of rotting garbage because it lessened the scent of the blood.

"What's wrong?" she asked thickly as she came to a stop next to him.

Mace pointed toward the end of the sofa and she took a few more steps, her eyes landing on the body lying face up on the pavement. The eyes were wide and staring and despite the death mask frozen on his face, she recognized him instantly. It was Leonard Keith.

He was shirtless and his arms were sprawled outward, allowing her to clearly see the deep gashes that had been carved into both his wrists. It was obvious that he hadn't been dead more than a day or two at most. And since she knew Leonard hadn't been home in two days, that meant he'd been taken out around the time his name had most likely been turned into the Narc-line.

And somehow, by some miracle, she had stopped in the same alleyway his body had been dumped in. What were the odds of that happening? Or maybe it wasn't a miracle at all. Maybe she'd gotten a scent of the decay while she'd been running from the Vampires and that's what had stopped her. Either way, miracle or not and odds laid aside, Leonard Keith was dead.

Anger flared inside her belly, white hot and deadly. This was a slap in her face. Three targets had been taken away from her! Three targets, dead and gone! But, they hadn't died because they had been properly put down as punishment for their offenses. No. They had died because someone out there was interfering with her job!

And at this juncture, she highly doubted it had anything to do with the circle jerk going on in Stoney's Pub!

Spinning on her heel, she hurried back toward the van, her anger momentarily blocking out the slain bodies and the taste of blood. "Evyn, we have a problem. Leonard Keith is dead!" she growled through her teeth. "Tell Them to call me! Now! Enough of this bullshit is enough!"

Evyn glanced up from her computer with an expression that implied she had just lost her mind. And she wasn't so sure she hadn't. A call from The Big Guys was...well, something akin to getting a phone call from God. They were elusive and anonymous and at times even she thought they were nothing more than a myth, despite the fact that they deposited her paychecks.

"Bethalie—" Evyn began, but Bethalie held up a hand to stop the protest.

"Tell Them to call me," she repeated, unwilling to hear an argument.

Evyn let out a breath and nodded, turning her attention back to her computer and viciously clicking away.

Noah appeared beside them then, his features uncertain. "Should I keep loading?"

"No. Stop and unload the one in the van. I want you to put him right back where I dropped him," she said, the tone in her voice surprising her.

Noah hesitated for a moment, but then obeyed without the argument she'd expected, disappearing around the back of the van.

"Bethalie, there's no way They'll call you," Evyn pointed out.

"If they don't then we're walking away and leaving this mess—" at that instant Evyn's phone rang, the shrill sound making both of them jump with a start.

Evyn fumbled as she pulled the phone from her back pocket, nearly dropping it twice before she finally managed to hold it out to Bethalie with a hand that was shaking like a leaf.

Bethalie felt a spasm of nerves unfurling in her belly. It was Them. No one else called Evyn's phone but her. Not ever. She hit the accept button and put the phone to her ear. "Hello?" she croaked out unevenly.

"Ward, you insisted on a phone call," a female voice stated. It was a voice that sounded as if it belonged on a sex hot-line. "You have one minute. Go."

Bethalie cleared her throat, trying to get her thoughts in order, which was difficult all of a sudden. "I've f-found Leonard Keith. He's...he's been killed just like the other two and dumped in an alleyway on Sevier Street. He needs to be picked up, along with the other seven bodies that are out here. I'm not equipped to deal with this many."

"How did you rack up so many kills? You had orders for just the one," the woman asked curiously.

"The seven extras were sent by Bartholomew Grey," she stated, pulling herself together and tightening her tone. "I understand you want to leave me on my own with Grey, but I'm asking you to step in and force him to cease and desist. I can't find the person responsible for killing my targets if I have to fight off a horde of hired thugs every other day."

"He sent seven Vampires to put you down? And I'm still talking to you?" the voice questioned.

"Twelve, actually," she quipped rather coolly. "The others are back at my garage. And even though it was a rush fighting off that many, I can't work this way. So, either you get Bartholomew Grey off my back and you deal with all the bodies or I'm out."

"Ward, you understand that your kills are your responsibility—"

"I want you to hear what I'm telling you," Bethalie cut off that husky voice, her words filled with a measure of venom. "You will deal with Bartholomew Grey and you will clean up the mess that he caused today or you can find another Ward for Port Angeles!"

"Ward, do you know who you're speaking—"

"Well, good luck with my replacement. I hope you can get her here and get her set up before a Daylighter walks past and sees all the fangs." With that, she hung up.

She was serious. Stone cold. She could not work this way. She didn't care how powerful Bartholomew Grey was, his asinine antics and desire for revenge were getting in the way of her job and she wouldn't stand for it. She wouldn't! Even if that meant walking away from her duties and allowing an entire people to be found out and thusly slaughtered!

"They won't help you, Bethalie," Noah said, returning to stand beside her after replacing the body right where it had fallen. "No one will touch him. No one can touch him."

"Then what can she do?" Mace asked as he appeared. "Who knows how many men might show up next time."

Evyn went pale. "Maybe They can talk some sense into him. I mean, he doesn't have to be put down. He just has to stop coming after Bethalie."

"He's going to have to be put down. He'll never stop trying to avenge my sister," Noah stated. "I wanted to do it myself, but I can't leave Bethalie. She needs me here. But, I can call a colleague. If anyone stands a chance, he does."

"Wait. It-it shouldn't have to be like this. He's your father. Isn't there a way to get him to see reason?" Evyn beseeched, her tone thick with feeling.

"My father has lived a long and easy life. So easy that he now thinks he's entitled to behave anyway he please,s without regard for another soul," Noah stated calmly. "It's time he was stopped." That declared, he pulled his phone from his back pocket and walked away down the sidewalk, his exposed muscles rippling as he went.

Bethalie's stomach suddenly lurched. Damn. Damn! This...this was not what she wanted! This was not how she handled things! She dealt with her own problems! She didn't need Noah to have to be the one to strike the blow that landed his own father dead!

"Bethalie, you can't let him do this!" Evyn plead, her eyes large and stricken.

Feeling helpless, she lifted a shoulder. This wasn't right nor fair to Noah... but dammit...goddammit...what else could be done at the moment? Bartholomew Grey was going to keep coming after her until he finally succeeded. And he would succeed. She could not fight off an army.

In reality, if Noah wasn't part of the equation, no one would feel bad about Bartholomew Grey getting his comeuppance. In fact, Evyn would be leading the charge.

The wind suddenly kicked up and an unexpected scent struck her in the face, tensing her muscles and knotting her stomach. It happened so fast she didn't have a second to try and stave off her reaction. With her mouth suddenly watering, she found herself whipping around and moving toward the alleyway. She had no thought of just what she was going to do when she reached the source of that heady, tantalizing scent, but her body propelled her forward all the same.

"Bethalie, can I speak with you for a minute?" Mace was suddenly there, blocking her path and bringing her to an abrupt halt. He quickly clamped an arm around her shoulders and began steering her away from the alley.

For one split second, for the space of one heartbeat, she thought about reaching up and pulling Mace's throat out simply because he'd gotten in the way of what she wanted. His blood would probably be just as appealing as what had been spilled in the alleyway, maybe even more so. That thought sent a jolt through her and as quickly as it flashed through her mind, she shoved it away and tried to pretend that it hadn't happened.

"I don't think you want Evyn to see you do that," Mace whispered, holding her tight against him in an effort to try and keep her from doing what her body was telling her to do. As if he could keep her from doing it. "You might not want her to see your eyes, either."

Another jolt shot through her and she blinked several times, not knowing if that would help. But, walking away from the alley wasn't helping a whole lot, either. The wind was whipping up that maddening scent and carrying it all along the street. Breathing in that velvety aroma, she found it difficult not to wonder what sort of scent she would find if she were to...open up a human body. Mace was human...

"Step away from her, Tuck!" Noah growled, appearing on the sidewalk in front of them, his expression hard and his eyes pale. "Go care for you own woman! You cannot help Bethalie!"

Mace didn't budge. "Don't you think you're pushing the whole territorial thing? Bethalie is my friend. I'm not trying to make a move on her!"

"Bethalie is not your friend right now, Tuck! She is actually considering what your life's blood might taste like. So, step away from her!"

Mace looked down at Bethalie, his brows shooting upwards in surprise.

"It...it's okay. I won't hurt you," she lied right to his face. "But, maybe you should go back to Evyn."

"Are you sure?" he asked, showing no concern for his own safety. And he should have been...so very concerned.

"I'm sure," she told him, trying not to notice the large, blue vein running along the side of his neck. It was just beneath the skin, so close to the surface that the slightest nick would open it up.

"Away with you, Tuck!" Noah ordered, reaching out and taking hold of Bethalie's arm, forcibly pulling her away from Mace and tucking her against his side. "Away! And leave us be for a space!"

Mace clenched his jaw and studied Bethalie for a long minute before finally turning and walking away from them. It wasn't until he was back at the van with Evyn that she realized she was shaking from head to toe and her forehead was covered in a sheen of perspiration.

"That is one stubborn Daylighter," Noah stated, turning her around and continuing her onward down the sidewalk. "His scent is enticing you because you haven't fed in a while. You'll feel better once your belly is filled."

She nodded, trying to convince herself that she wouldn't have done anything to Mace. Not really. She'd only been...entertaining...the notion of slicing him open and tasting what flowed through his veins.

"I called my contact," Noah said, thankfully changing the subject. "And I phoned my mother to tell her to say her goodbyes."

"What? Why!" she demanded, so shocked she shoved her momentary desire to sink her teeth into Mace aside.

"Don't worry. She won't alert him," he stated easily, tightening his arm around her so that her cheek was pressed to the heated flesh of his bare chest.

"No, it's not...why would you tell her? What will that do to her?" She couldn't imagine knowing ahead of time that she was going to lose a person she loved, that she only had a small amount of time left with them! It would be torture!

"Don't look so aghast, Ward," Noah said, looking down at her with a soft expression. "My mother has suffered volumes of at the hands of her mate. She has endured things you can't possibly imagine. She'll mourn him, but she deserves the freedom coming to her. I just wanted her to have a moment to brace for it."

That did not make it better. It seemed to make it worse somehow. "Noah, you don't have to do this. Call it off." She would deal with Bartholomew Grey's horde of assassins until she could go after him herself.

"I can't," he answered stoically. "You are my responsibility now. Besides, he wants me dead, too. I don't think either of us should be taken out because of a temper tantrum thrown by a 400 year old Vampire who insists on acting like a spoiled infant."

It pained her, but he did have a point.

There was a lengthy moment of silence between them before an unexpected thought occurred to Bethalie, making her stomach clench tight. "Noah, I left seven Vamps back there," she began, feeling suddenly overwhelmed, "and I didn't get the scent of their musk. Not even a hint of it." 

Seven deceased Vamps should have had her choking from the stench, yet she hadn't tasted anything but the blood she'd spilled. How would she track if she was in a situation that called for her to use that particular method?

"Scenting our musk was your Ward half," he said with a shrug. "I'm sure you'll be able to work without it. You can track the way we do. You just have to adjust."

She had no choice, now did she? It just...irked her that she seemed to be losing more and more of herself.

The sound of screeching tires broke into the conversation and Noah spun them around. Bethalie's gaze landed on two shiny black vans with darkly tinted windows racing down the street. Both vehicles squealed to a halt behind her own van and several men filed out of each, all wearing black Haz-Mat jump suits. They ignored Mace and Evyn and made for the alleyway, working with speedy efficiency as they began to clean up the scene.

Damn. Her little phone call had actually worked. And fast!

Noah hurried Bethalie back down the sidewalk and they both stood with Evyn and Mace, watching the suited men fling the bodies over their shoulders and carry them to the vans, heaving them inside like bags of garbage. With half a dozen men working, it didn't take very long for all the remains to be loaded, including those of Leonard Keith. Once all the dead had been removed, half the men jumped into one van and peeled out in a cloud of burning rubber, careening down the street and disappearing around the corner. Bethalie couldn't help but thinking that if these men were on call, she shouldn't have to bother with bringing her targets back to the garage. It would be so much easier to pull her out her phone, wait a few minutes, and have the problem dealt with for her. Maybe she'd have to put in a request, just to see how the idea would go over.

The three remaining men turned to approach Bethalie, their expressions blank. Looking up at the hulking, black suited forms, all three of whom were Vampires, she felt something cold wash over her, something that had her body dropping into fight mode.

"We'll take the Daylighter off your hands, Ward," one of them said flatly, his sharp blue eyes fairly boring into hers.

Evyn gasped and Mace pushed out a swear word, but Bethalie shot them a fierce glance, freezing them both solid.

"The Daylighter is staying with me. I will not be handing him over," she stated, trying to pull away from Noah, who still had her tucked against his side, but he refused to let go of her.

"We have orders, Ward," the Vamp said, unimpressed and unaffected.

"The Daylighter stays with me," she repeated, putting a bit of iron into her words.

"Are you disobeying a direct command from Them?" he asked, only then showing a slight amount of surprise.

"She said he stays!" Noah growled at the Vamp. "Do not make her tell you again!"

After only a few second's pause, the man turned and wordlessly walked to the remaining van, his two silent cohorts following behind. It clearly wasn't his job to see that orders were enforced. The three Vampires climbed into the back of the van, slammed the doors shut, and the vehicle sped away, following the same route their associates had taken.

Bethalie let out a hard breath and felt her muscles unclench. "Let's get home," she said, suddenly feeling exhausted.

The search for Leonard Keith was off, but the hunt for the killer was back on. Which meant she needed to plan her next move.

"We'll get your things for you," Mace told her, taking Evyn's hand and leading the girl toward the alley, where Bethalie's weapons and coat were still scattered about.

"We'll ride in the back of the van," Noah said to her, quickly ushering her around to the open double doors.

"Why are we riding back here?" she asked, trying to resist, but she was quickly overcome and Noah lifted her up and had her inside almost before she could blink.

"Because you're hungering and you shouldn't be confined with Evyn and Tuck," Noah told her plainly.

Bethalie felt annoyed. "I'm not going to...do anything like that...to Evyn or Mace!" she shot at him.

"You might not," he told her easily, climbing in after her. "But, if your appetite flares up, you might take on some of your death mask and your woman will see it. Do you want that?"

No. She didn't want Evyn to see her that way. She'd completely fall apart. She was only hanging on by a thread as it was.

"We're riding back here! Leave us be!" Noah called out loud enough for Mace and Evyn to hear him before slamming the doors shut.

"Are you always so rude?" Bethalie asked, trying to add a little malice to her tone and not quite succeeding.

"I'm not rude. I prefer to think of myself as...authoritative," Noah answered, taking a seat next to the winch and easily settling her so that she was tucked against his side with her head leaning on his bare shoulder. "Close your eyes and try to rest. You're weak."

As the engine started and the van jolted into motion, Bethalie realized there was no way she would be able to shut her eyes and rest, not with Noah's clean, masculine scent surrounding her and his heat enveloping her. And most especially not with the unimpeded view of his washboard stomach, which she now noticed had a dark line of crisp hair that started at his navel and arrowed downward into the waistband of his low riding jeans. Why should she close her eyes and try to rest when she could ponder what might lay at the end of that trail of chestnut curls? And so, feeling slightly wicked, ponder she did.