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What if my ability didn’t work on vampires because they were already dead? They didn’t have auras. I’d be dead. Deader than dead.

Then Julian’s eyes met mine, and what I saw there somehow erased my fear and replaced it with cold determination. He was worried not for himself though he was moments, maybe only minutes from death. He was scared I’d be hurt. There was no hiding or faking what I saw there. Desperation to get to me. To save me.

I knew what I had to do.

Rising slowly so as not to spook anyone into rushing me, I held out my palms in a surrender motion. Keep them off balance, Pythia instructed.

“What’s your name?” I asked White.

He laughed, clearly confused. “James Mordock,” he said, “but you can call me Sire once I turn you. Or Master, if you prefer.”

So he didn’t just work for the House of Mordock—he was Mordock.

His buddies all laughed, including Lydia, and Julian struggled harder. One of the other vamps aimed a gun at him.

“No!” I shouted. “Freeze!”

Every one of them stopped, stock still as a statue. “Except Julian,” I amended, and he burst to life, freeing himself and taking Mordock’s arm with him.

I vomited. There was no holding it back, and my concentration broke. Any moment now, they would be back in motion. Julian scooped up the gun, threw me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, and zoomed off at super speed.

Dizzy, exhausted, and losing consciousness, I pulled all my energy and swiped my hand through the air. The shipping containers we passed collapsed toward each other, blocking the pursuit of James and the others.

Then everything faded to black.

Chapter Eight

A Conversation with a Vampire

When I woke, I found myself beneath the covers and hoped it had been a dream. The first clue I was wrong was the warm, spiced smell of Julian. And as my surroundings came into focus, I realized it wasn’t my bed I rested in, but a king-sized four-poster with ornate carvings in a sprawling bedroom that looked like Louis the XIV had transported to mid-century modern and thrown up all over French provincial. It was a mishmash of just about every popular style from the past—a sleek leather sofa in the corner by a rolltop desk and a bean bag nearby.

I sat up, head pounding, and cringed.

“You’re awake,” Julian said from the doorway. He was by my side in a flash, handing me a glass of water.

“Where…”

Julian gently took the empty cup from my hand.

“This is my home,” he said. “I couldn’t bring you to yours because of the wards. I am sorry.”

“Don’t apologize for my family’s paranoia,” I said. My own had started this mess and killed too many already.

“Are you up to speaking?” Julian asked, scooting closer on the bed, though spine rod straight as always. I noted he wore the least formal thing I’d ever seen him in, a violet button-down with sleeves rolled to the elbows. It was my favorite color, but he couldn’t have known that.

“I guess it’s unavoidable,” I said, lowering my gaze to where I worried the blankets.

A cool, slender finger gently tipped my chin up so I would face him. I swallowed, seeing only concern in his beautiful eyes. I hated to watch that change to hurt, anger, or betrayal, but I had to tell him the truth. I’d have thought he’d have guessed it already, but how could he look at me like that if he had?

“I’m here to help,” Julian said in his rumbly voice. “I understand you’re frightened, and reasonably so. But you are safe, and I will make sure you stay that way.” His finger slid along my cheek to capture an escaped tear I hadn’t realized I’d shed.

“Where do I start?” I said with a forced laugh. “Yes, I met White—I mean James Mordock before. He destroyed my lab and kidnapped my assistant, who you saw at the shipping yard—the Goth vampire. Her name is Lydia and she was my…” I choked on the word friend. I wasn’t a good enough friend to save her.

“The night you used your telekinesis,” Julian said, nodding. Something dark flashed in his eyes, but it wasn’t aimed at me. Instead, he took my hands in his, stroking them with his thumbs in a reassuring gesture. “Charlotte, did GoDKiller come from your work?”

“Yes.” The admission opened the flood gates, and all the guilt and sorrow and pain I’d been keeping at bay burst out, wracking my body with uncontrollable sobs. “I’m so sorry,” I blubbered into Julian’s chest as he held me, stroking my back and rocking me slowly. “I never meant to kill anyone.”

When everything I’d held inside for weeks had been spent, I scooted back and accepted some tissues to wipe my face.