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I mumbled something resembling agreement. Although, for the first time in history, the thought of Ensley’s warm and intoxicating energy filling my insides invigorated me. The memory of his taste stirred my loins and made my teeth ache. I had to be careful I didn’t leave him too weak, or our mission might suffer.

Two days of observing shift changes on the island confirmed that we were dealing with nine hunters in total. Six were stationed above ground, and three below. Nine was manageable and offered a sense of relief. We might make a smooth rescue yet.

The crates of soil arrived as anticipated on Thursday. Despite the daylight hours, we met the delivery truck and discussed placement options. The mansion was too risky. I presented Cristofer with a few alternatives, but it was a no-brainer.

After dark, we transported the crates to Greenwood Cemetery and opened an overgrown mausoleum belonging to a family that had been buried over ninety years ago. Chances were, no living relatives accessed the grave any longer, and it would be the perfect spot for us to temporarily rest.

Saturday arrived too soon, and my anxiety peaked. Ensley, for all his talk, seemed nervous. He tried to hide it, forgetting that my enhanced senses picked up everything, including his elevated heartbeat and the fear pheromones released in his sweat.

Cristofer was at the crypt, resting before evening, while I paced, and Ensley dressed for our excursion. I’d fed on him the previous night, fearing he would be too weak for our mission if I left it any longer.

In the bathroom, dressed in similar gear as the hunters—combat boots, black cargo pants, a fitted tee, and a heavy canvas jacket—Ensley dabbed foundation on his neck to ensure the marks I’d left were no longer visible. If anyone was going to notice them, it would be hunters. Although it would be dark, we didn’t want to take chances.

He exited the bathroom and tipped his head to the side. “Can you see them?”

“No. Are you still woozy?” I’d made him a hearty breakfast and lunch, forcing him to eat everything.

“Not at all. When’s Cristofer coming over?”

“After dark.”

Although the heavy lifting was Ensley’s responsibility, Cristofer and I would provide as much support as possible. His story would only hold so long as we opened the hunters’ minds to suggestion. The margin for error was wide, and thinking of all the ways it could go wrong only made me want to abort.

“You’re fretting.” Ensley took my hand and drew me into his arms.

“I didn’t want you involved.”

“I know.”

“The risks are too great.”

“You need me. It’ll work. I’ll be careful.”

I rested my head against him and closed my eyes, trying to picture a time after it was all said and done. Iulian would return home and cast Valerius from the usurped throne. How the corrupt vampire would be punished was not up to me. With Iulian’s place restored, I would fade into the background again—with Ensley, content to enjoy the short time we had left together.

When you lived for centuries, a handful of decades passed in the blink of an eye. I would treasure every moment and try not to regret my choices. Loving him had never been part of the plan. Our eventual separation would devastate me, but I’d made peace with it. I would absorb every moment until there were no more.

“Mordecai?”

“I’m scared for you.” My voice hitched. Involving him risked shortening our time together. It risked our happiness.

Ensley cradled my face and peered deep into my eyes. If tears were still something I could produce, I might have cried.

“No matter what happens,” he said. “Remember I love you.”

“Don’t talk like that. It sounds like goodbye, and I refuse to explore that possibility. Not yet. Not now.”

“It’s you I’m worried about. Once the hunters realize they’re under attack, they’ll retaliate. They could kill you. They have the means and knowledge.”

“They won’t.”

Perhaps my assuredness was arrogant. Considering the threat to our species, my survival was paramount, at least until I’d successfully freed my uncle. Cristofer would do everything in his power to protect Ensley and me, but once Iulian was awake, that priority shifted. Cristofer would sacrifice himself to save our king.

Death did not scare me. Besides, Cristofer and I could heal from most fatal injuries. Ensley could not, and we were putting him in a dangerous situation.

I kissed him, drawing strength from his unwavering confidence and bravery.

Before leaving Europe, I was prepared to sacrifice my life for Iulian—wanted to sacrifice my life. I could admit it was part of my personal plan. I’d longed for the final death for centuries. My existence was a stain on my conscience.