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Chapter 8

“Do you feel it?” Laria asked.

Lawrence had just woken up, his sleep fitful.

“I do,” he admitted. The sense of foreboding had woken him, in fact—like an electric current running just under his skin, raising all the small hairs.

Vampires could sense each other for miles, and those who had been around for as long as he and Laria had been could discern between friend and foe.

“Rowan?”

Laria pulled her sandy brown hair into a ponytail piled high atop her head. He smiled, remembering how excited his sister had been when elastic hairbands had become mainstream. Her hair was thick and unruly, and until then, she’d had to wear it low at the nape of her neck.

“Is something funny?”

Definitely not if Rowan Morley were in town.

“No,” he said, chugging a bottle of water. Jeff allowed his bartenders to drink on the job, and last night, he’d taken advantage of the fact. It had nearly killed him to watch the guys at the bar hit on Toni and her friends all night—but it bothered him more that she’d barely looked at him after collecting her drink.

Was she playing games? Or had he misread her interest in him? He didn’t think so, especially after that wedding, and yet she continued to surprise him. Lawrence considered himself a fair judge of character, having practiced for longer than most, but she remained a bit of a mystery.

It made her more alluring.

Another pulse of foreboding drew his attention back to the present moment—and the trouble that was even now unfolding. “I’m heading over to Kenton’s—”

“I’m coming,” Laria insisted.

As they made their way toward the back entrance of the massive Victorian, the sensation only intensified. Not for the first time, he glanced at the doors nestled against the side of the hill behind the Henry Hutton Mansion. Three of them, each leading to a small room like man-sized hobbit holes. Empty, as far as he could tell, with no record of them anywhere in the historical records for the home.

Though it was still sunny, the wind told a different tale. It would rain soon, despite the forecast. Lawrence could sense it as surely as he could sense the strong presence of a vampire moving closer and closer to them.

He and Laria exchanged a look and started running, not stopping when they reached the front door. They’d been invited in before and could now come and go freely, although Lawrence was typically a bit more polite about announcing himself.

A breach of common courtesy was the least of his concerns. The chill that settled into his very soul forced Alessandra’s name from him. His lifelong instinct to protect the Cheld intensified where she was concerned. That she’d been learning to take care of herself, courtesy of Kenton’s guidance, and his, was of little consolation. She was in danger. They all were.

“In here!” she called out at once, summoning them to the front room on the second floor.

“Rowan?” he asked as he reached the threshold.

Kenton frowned. “I’m not sure.”

Everyone turned to look at Alessandra as she turned the wooden dagger in her hand over and over. He’d given it to her even while praying she’d never have to use it.

While vampires could track each other, the Cheld had a stronger ability to identify vampires from a distance. Some skilled Cheld could identify a vampire by scent from miles away.

“Could be,” she said. “But—”

“What is it?” Kenton blurted out.

Lawrence could have smiled under different circumstances. His former nemesis was known by every vampire alive to be as calm and collected as one could be. Even as a human, Kenton Morley had been famous for very rarely losing his temper. A competent and decisive leader, he had been an earl worthy of his men.

“It’s different than it was that night,” Alessandra said.

Kenton’s scowl deepened. They rarely discussed the night his brother Rowan had come to Stone Haven, let alone the fact that he’d nearly killed Alessandra. She’d just begun to learn to use her skills. Even so, she’d gained the upper hand at one point before Kenton stepped in.

“No,” she said suddenly, “I’m sure it’s not Rowan.”

He and Kenton exchanged a glance. Laria appeared concerned. They were all likely thinking the same thing. While there were others of their kind, it was unlikely any would venture into Stone Haven without a specific purpose. He’d heard from his own brother, Torr, days earlier. Neither was Torr a threat, and from Alessandra’s expression, this vampire was no friend.