when he raised his head and their gazes met, her entire world tilted crazily. Marika gasped, unable to help herself. Him! She knew this man, knew him intimately, and she’d taken care to avoid him.
Grief stabbed her, awful and swift. “You,” she said. Only that, but enough. “Beck.” Anton Beck, who went by his last name.
Slowly, painfully, he nodded and then gave her that lopsided smile she still remembered. “Marika, where have you been hiding? I’ve been looking for you for three years.”
She dipped her chin, acknowledging the truth of his statement. “I know. I didn’t want to be found.”
One of the others made a sound, reminding her of their presence. That they should witness this, such a powerful personal moment, brought the fury back in full force. For this, too, they’d pay.
Reading her intentions in her face, Beck shook his head. “Wait,” he mouthed, cautioning her as if he had the right.
The braided fool backhanded him. “Shut up. You talk when we tell you to talk.”
Marika snarled, an almost wolflike growl that made Beck raise his head and go absolutely still.
She remembered how things had been between them. Hell, from the look on his face, he did, too. Explosive. Amazing. Hot and fast, furious and gentle. She’d never expected to find that with him, and fear had been part of the reason she’d run.
Dani had been the other reason.
For a moment, the harsh sound of breathing was the only noise echoing in the basement. Two of the three men, the humans, shifted their weight uneasily, sensing perhaps their impending doom. Only their leader, the shifter who’d slapped Beck, seemed impervious, arrogantly confident.
Or, she reflected grimly, stupid as hell. She’d bet on the latter.
“Here’s the deal,” Ponytail said. “I’m glad you know each other. Wolf-man, we’re gonna let you drag vampire chick into the sun first thing in the morning. No.” He held up his hand as Beck made a noise of protest. “This isn’t nice, especially since we know you’ve been trying to find her for a long time. But she’s hiding someone we want more. You know this. The two of you can put your heads together and come up with a solution. Tell us where the kid is and we’ll let you go.”
Marika watched Beck. Though he hadn’t known about their daughter, his closed-off expression showed no hint of his thoughts.
“I’ll die before I let you have her,” she declared, waiting as Beck had asked, but eager to flex her returning strength and take them all down now.
“We’ll let you have that wish,” the shorter captor chortled. His laughter died instantly when Marika cut him a look promising retribution.
“Ten minutes.” Ponytail motioned the others to follow him. “This entire room is concrete, like a bunker. There are no windows and the only door is cement also, controlled remotely by me. So don’t even think of escaping. You won’t be able to.”
The three exited. As they did, the heavy door ground into place, closing with a thud. The meager lightbulb cast long shadows on the walls.
“Like the pyramids,” she said, more to fill the silence than anything else. “Except they had only torches that went out once the oxygen left.”
Swinging her legs over the side of the stone sarcophagus, she stood, swaying slightly. “You have no idea how good it feels to be out of that thing.”
He came closer, studying her face with an intent look that made her shiver. “Did we—you really have a child?”
For a split second she thought of lying, but she could no longer hide. “Yes. A daughter. I named her Danielle, Dani for short.”
“How is that possible?” Frowning at her, he looked unconvinced. “Vampires can’t conceive.”
Lifting one shoulder, she winced at the twinge of pain. “So they say. But I did. I went to speak with our seer and she told me this happens rarely. When it did, the child was meant to achieve great things. So, nine months later, my baby was born.”
“Our baby,” he corrected, looking shell-shocked. As he stared at her, anger gradually replaced the surprise. “You kept this from me. My daughter. Why?”
The moment she’d been dreading. Swallowing hard, she kept her gaze on him, not allowing herself the luxury of looking away. “Please. I had my reasons. I’ll explain later, I promise.”
From the grim set of his jaw, she could tell he didn’t believe her. But finally, eyes blazing dark fury, he jerked his head in a nod.
“Is Dani a Halfling?”
Relief flooded her, which she instantly hid. She didn’t pretend to misunderstand his meaning. “She can shape-shift, if that’s what you mean. She’s alive.”
“Not a vampire.” He spat the word as if he hated all of her species because of what she’d done. She didn’t suppose she could actually blame him.
“No.” Her short laugh sounded bitter, she knew. “I couldn’t nurse her. But I bought formula and she thrived. She’s two and a half years old now.”
“Why do they want her?”
“That I don’t know. The seer warned me while I still carried her in my womb. To protect her, I hid among my own kind, until I learned Dani wasn’t safe there. Then I had no choice but to go into a human city and try to blend in. That’s how they found me.”
“Where is she?” His voice was a harsh whisper. “My daughter, where is she now?”
“Safe.” If she’d had a heart, it would have ached. So much pain in his face, grief in his voice. He’d never forgive her for what she’d done. She told herself it didn’t matter. Only Dani mattered.
“For now.”
“For always.” She glanced at the door, trying to judge the time. “When they come back, I’m going to kill them.”
“Can you? Are you strong enough?”
“Yes.”
“How long has it been since you fed?”
Again, she shrugged, forgetting her stiff shoulder. “Weeks, I think. Not long enough to hurt me. I’m fine. I’m still stronger than they.”
“You need blood. Drink mine.” He came closer, turning his head so his neck was exposed to her. “Use my blood to give yourself strength.”
Shocked, she stared at him, while her body reacted. “You don’t know what you’re saying,” she rasped, her mouth dry and her fangs suddenly aching. “When a vampire goes this long without nourishment, sometimes it’s difficult to stop.”
“But you will.” His gaze met hers, his full of a confidence she didn’t share. “My sister loved you and said you were strong.”
“Not that strong.”
Again he moved closer,
