“Liquor.”

I was into my third bottle of Jack Daniel’s when Bones arrived. It was sunset, the dying rays turning his hair reddish as he walked through the door. Even a glimpse of his hard, rippled frame caused my hand to tighten on the whiskey. God, he looked good, but I needed to slam the lid on my dirty mind and seek other things to think about. Farm equipment. Agriculture. The state of the economy.

“Blimey, Kitten, is this what you’ve been doing all day? Drinking?”

The judgmental tone Bones used doused my momentary ardor. Nope, no need to ponder the national deficit next!

“Your color’s good, so who are you to talk,” I said. “Is that what took you so long? Did she taste extra yummy?”

I was jealous, as irrational as that might be. Bones picked women to feed from for two reasons—with his looks, they were pathetically easy to get alone, and he liked their flavor more. I hadn’t believed Bones could really taste the difference between male and female blood until he proved it to me. The man could flawlessly genderize a whole blood bank. Once he’d commented that he thought it might be an acquired liking of estrogen.

“She didn’t taste like a gallon of whiskey, that’s for certain,” he shot back, coming over and arching a brow at my near-empty bottle. “Is that all you’ve had today?”

“Certainly is, Crispin,” Ian sang out. “She’s been drinking with the pluck of an Irishman!”

I had nothing heavy nearby to throw at Ian aside from the whiskey, and I wasn’t letting go of that. “Bite me, Ian!”

Bones snatched at my bottle, but I’d been anticipating that. I held on, and it was tug-of-war.

“Put it down,” he barked, prying my hand from my prize. “You need solid food, Kitten, and about a keg of water. Crikey, where’s your mum? Can’t the woman be counted on to at least see that you eat?”

If he had been trying to piss me off, he couldn’t have picked a better way. “Oh sure. Have someone feed me, water me, and keep me on a leash. You know what you should have married, Bones? A dog, then you wouldn’t have all those pesky problems about it occasionally acting on its own.”

“This is just what I bloody need,” he growled, running a hand through his hair. “Coming home to a drunken harpy, waiting to knock my head off.”

This isn’t what he needed? I was the one who’d been punched out, drugged, reduced to hand-feedings—all because of a crazy vampire who’d kidnapped me when I was sixteen and didn’t want to take no for an answer now. “Being a ‘drunken harpy’ has been the highlight of my week, so excuse me if I’m not waiting by the door for you with a big red X on my neck to mark the spot where you can get your dessert.”

Part of me was horrified at what I’d just said. After all, I wasn’t mad at Bones, just the circumstances. But somehow, my mental filter between what I didn’t mean and what I’d said, was broken. I couldn’t even blame it on the liquor, either. Being half-vampire meant I couldn’t get drunk on normal booze.

“Right now I’d say it’s what you need,” Bones shot back. “Is that it? Shall I take you to bed and bite some of the waspishness out of you? Even though I’d rather flog some sense into you instead, as a vampire, I’m up for the task whether I’d want to or not.”

My mouth swung open, and my hand actually tingled with the urge to slap him.

And at the same time, I wanted to cry. This was all so wrong. I was falling to pieces and doing it alone, despite the numerous people around me.

Something of this either showed on my face, or he heard it in the whirling chaos of my mind. Bones’s features lost their icy callousness, and he sighed.

“Kitten…”

“Don’t.” My breath caught, choking back the sob. I couldn’t seem to control how I felt or what came out of my mouth, so it was better if I was alone. Fast, before I said something else I didn’t mean.

“I’m, uh, tired.”

I walked up the stairs, leaving the whiskey behind on the couch. It hadn’t helped. In fact, all I’d done since I woke up was to make matters worse. I knew this situation wasn’t Bones’s fault. He was only doing this to keep everyone safe, including me. But somehow, I ended up taking out my frustration on him. At least unconscious, I couldn’t fuck things up between us more.

I shut the door behind me. There weren’t any glasses in the bedroom, so I cupped my palm and used the sink water to swallow Don’s pills. Their quantity was dwindling. I’d have to have him ship more to me—except I didn’t know where we were.

That falling sensation began shortly after, like the mattress opened up, and I was being sucked down into it. For a split second, I felt panic, reaching out for anything to hold onto. Yet just as requested, I was alone.

Later, when I felt cool flesh against my mouth, I was relieved. Then I finished swallowing and knew this wasn’t Bones, even with my eyes closed and just coming into wakefulness. The blood tasted different.

Spade blinked into view. He removed his hand, but didn’t get up from his seated position on the bed. It was still dark out. Sadly, I hadn’t slept the whole miserable day away.

“Where’s Bones?” I asked.

“He’s outside, should be back in shortly.”

I didn’t say anything, but my anguish at how things had deteriorated to where Bones couldn’t even take the time to wake me must have shown on my face. Spade sighed.

“He’s not used to this, Cat, and he’s handling it quite poorly.”

“Not used to what?” Being married to a psychotic bitch? my mind supplied.

“Fear.” Spade lowered his voice. “Crispin’s always prided himself on his emotional control, yet he has none with you. He’s never before experienced the fear of losing the person he loves to someone else. Oh, your friend Tate might brass Crispin off, but he knows Tate is no real threat. Gregor’s different. He’s older than Crispin, more powerful, and no one knows how much you might have cared for him.”

I was afraid Spade had underestimated the situation. “I don’t think that’s the issue. Bones and I can’t even be around each other without fighting.”

“Both of you are in foul tempers with little to do but lash out at each other, but don’t lose sight of priorities. Isn’t he what you’re fighting for?”

I bit my lip. “What if it is me that’s giving away our location? What if everything I know gets repeated to Gregor in my sleep somehow? I’d be putting everyone in danger by just waking up! And I can’t seem to get a grip on myself.”

My voice cracked. The room blurred as my eyes filled up. See? Emotional train wreck, just like I’d described.

“I think I should go to Don,” I said finally, wiping my eyes. “He has facilities I don’t know about, and they’re built to withstand bunker-buster bombs. I could wait there until things calmed down. And then I wouldn’t be jeopardizing everyone around me—”

“You’re not going anywhere.”

Bones filled the doorframe behind Spade. I hadn’t even heard him come up the stairs; he’d moved almost as silently as Fabian. Green glinted in his eyes, and his expression was granite.

“In case you weren’t paying attention, Kitten, I’ll say it again. You’re not going anywhere. Not to Don, or to anyone else. You’re mine, so don’t mention leaving again.”

This wasn’t a tender declaration of “I need you here with me.” No, it was the dispassionate pronouncement of “You’re my ball and chain, and it’s my ankle you’re shackled to!” Bones turned and walked away after making the statement, not bothering to say anything else.

Spade squeezed my hand before sliding off the bed, looking at me almost pityingly before he left.

“It will be all right.”

I didn’t argue, but I didn’t believe him. Bones hadn’t even given me a chance to apologize for earlier before he’d stalked off. Everything that mattered to me—my relationship with Bones, my independence, being there for my friends, taking down murderers—all that was in tatters. Most of that was Gregor’s fault. Some of it, however, was mine. At least I could do something about that.