Rhage popped his mouth toy out. “Don’t get me wrong—I think disarming bombs and booby traps is a bore, but I was ready to put the time in. I don’t get it. They leave here because Throe’s out and likely defecting? They must know that we’re going to come as soon as we got the addy from that asshat.”

V’s white eyes shifted over the empty house. “They missed an obvious chance.”

“Didn’t think Xcor was that stupid—or lazy.” Rhage shrugged. “Maybe they’re hurting for money.”

“Doubt that it’s a lack of resources,” Phury muttered. “They’re well armed, going by their kills downtown.”

There was some fast conversation and it was decided they’d go back and report to Wrath that Throe hadn’t lied. Just before they dematerialized, however, Rhage spoke up around his lollipop.

“Listen, you boys mind if I take a little detour?”

“No problem, we’ll start the debrief,” V said.

“Thanks, my brothers. I just need ten minutes or so.”

He clapped palms with his fellow fighters, and then one by one, they all disappeared . . .

. . . but instead of re-forming in the backyard of Darius’s old house, where Wrath held audiences with his subjects, Rhage materialized in front of a large, but far less opulent, home in the suburbs. A blue Volvo XC70 station wagon was parked in the driveway, and though the drapes were all pulled, lights were on in every single window all around the three-story house.

Rhage took out his phone, went into Favorites, and hit green-means-go. As the ringing started, he shifted his weight back and forth between his shitkickers.

“Hey,” he said as the call was answered. “You okay?”

“Hey.” His Mary, his perfectly beautiful and brilliant female, sounded all wrong. “How did you know.”

Instantly, his beast surged under his skin, ready to tear into anything or anybody that threatened their mate. “What’s going on?”

“We’re having trouble with one of our moms.”

Rhage’s eyes sought out the windows. “Can I help?”

“Where are you?”

“Out on your lawn.”

“I’m coming down.”

Rhage hung up the phone and did a quick pass with the tidy-up, smoothing his hair, making sure his jacket was hanging right, pulling up his leathers.

Safe Place had been started by Marissa to meet the needs of victims of domestic violence within the Race. Although humans had a lot of programs and resources for their women and children, female vampires and their young had had absolutely nothing to turn to until Marissa had opened up this facility. Staffed with social workers trained thanks to the human world—night school or online—and nurses managed by Doc Jane and Ehlena, the residents were allowed to stay, without charge, for as long as they needed in order to get back on their feet and be safe.

Males were not permitted inside.

As far as he knew, there were at least twelve in the house at the moment, although that number fluctuated—and thanks to the Wellesandra Annex, built because of Tohr’s gift in memory of his beloved first shellan, there was always plenty of room.

The front door opened and Mary slipped out, locking up behind her. Tucking her arms into her chest, she shivered as she ran over the lawn—and it took every ounce of his self-control not to be the one to cross the distance between them. But he had to respect the boundary of the property.

Opening his arms wide, he sank down into his knees so that when she got within range, he could hold her flush to him and lift her up off the ground. To him, she weighed nothing, but oh, God, she was vital, her body warm against his, her arms going around his neck and squeezing, her scent hitting him like a Xanax and a jolt of espresso at the same time.

“My Mary,” he sighed. Deep inside him, his beast chuffed in satisfaction. “My Mary girl.”

He’d started calling her that a while ago. No idea why. Probably because every time he did, she smiled.

Rhage eased her back down, but kept her against him. Brushing her cocoa-colored hair back, he didn’t like how pale she was. “What the hell’s happening?”

The sound she made was one of exasperation. Exhaustion. Sadness. “Do you remember that mother and child you rescued with Butch about two years ago? Maybe two and a half? Mom had been a victim for years, so had her child.”

“Yeah, they were the first people in your program.”

“Well, mom’s not doing well. She didn’t tell anyone that she was pregnant when she came here. She hid it so completely, none of us had any idea what was going on. Typical gestation is like eighteen months, but from what Havers told us, some babies can die in utero and just stay there—not possible with humans. However, Havers said he’d seen that before in rare cases.”

“Wait. What? Are you saying she . . .”

“Yes. It’s just terrible.”

Rhage tried to imagine a female holding a dead young within her womb. “Jesus.”

“She got sicker and weaker—until she lost consciousness and we called Doc Jane and Ehlena in. Jane took the baby out, but the mom . . .” Mary shook her head. “Mom isn’t recovering. She’s got a low-level infection that refuses to clear, and she just doesn’t look right. And to make matters worse, she’s refusing to have more treatment, and nothing is getting through to her.”

Which meant Mary had been on the front lines.

Rhage tucked her in against his chest and felt like an asshole for coming on to her in text while she was dealing with life-and-death stuff. “Is there anything I can do?”

She eased back and looked up. “Actually, this little break is giving me a second wind. You’re timing couldn’t be more perfect.”

He thought about what was going on back at the clinic with Selena. The situation was weighing on him for some reason, even though he wasn’t that close to Trez.

Good male, though. Real hard-ass with a good heart.

“Well, let me know.” He brushed his mate’s hair back again. “Anything you need, at any time.”

As she lifted up onto her tiptoes, he met her more than halfway, kissing her lips once, twice, and again. She was, even more than his beating heart or his Brothers, the single most important thing in his life. From the instant she had first spoken to him, and he had closed his eyes and swayed at the sound of her voice, he had been lost in her.

Without her being his magnetic north? He would be worse than cursed.

“I love you,” he whispered. “Now and forever.”

“I’ll try to come home at dawn, but I don’t know how this is going to go.”

“You do what you need to here. I’ll check in and you’ll update me when you can.”

“You are always so understanding.”

Like she knew that being separated from her during the day was a kind of hell for him.

“You do the same for me, Mary girl. And your work here is very important.”

She tilted her head, her wide eyes grave. “Thank you. You know, that’s . . . just really kind of you.”

“It’s the truth.” He kissed her again. “Go on, now. Get back to your patient.”

His Mary took his hand and squeezed. “I love you, too.”

He stayed where he was, watching her run back to the front door, take out her key, and let herself back into the house. Just before she disappeared, she gave him a wave.

As the door shut, he imagined her turning the dead bolts, making sure everyone was safe. Working to improve the lives of the females and young inside.

After a moment, he took out his cell phone and checked again. Nope. Trez had still not gotten back to him.

That had been the second text he’d sent.

With a curse, he scattered his molecules over to Darius’s old house—and as he traveled, the image of Trez bolting out the door of the exam room dogged him. Ate at him.

Shit, he hoped Selena was okay.

For some reason, that was of vital importance to him.

NINETEEN

Xcor’s heart beat irregularly as he sat upon the sofa opposite Layla. She had chosen the chair in the corner to place herself in, and consequently, the light from the fire reached only up to her legs. He could picture all of her, however; every detail of her face, her throat, her body was known to him as well as his own.