The woman nodded. “I will, and we also want to thank you for what you did for master Lucian. He seems changed somehow, in a good way, since you’ve been with him.”

Claire didn’t want to think too hard right now about anything. And certain very specific thoughts, like returning to Santa Fe, she held as far away as she could.

“I’d like to get dressed. Any chance I have clothes here?”

The woman smiled. “Rumy was here. He brought all that you’ll need.” Rumy, always thinking of the details.

Claire stood up, feeling a little dizzy. She grabbed the edge of the tub and steadied herself then climbed out, one of her less elegant maneuvers.

The woman held a large purple terry towel wide, nothing but concern in her expression. Claire stepped into it and wrapped up. She gave her head a shake and grabbed for hair that no longer existed, at least not the full length.

She reached up. “What happened?” But then she remembered.

“We had to trim it off. I’m so sorry. Most of it was singed and smelled really bad.”

“Right. Of course.” But it felt so weird not to have her long hair. She gave her head a shake. “I don’t suppose you have a mirror.”

“Come into the other room. You can get ready in there. There’s a full bathroom with a shower if you want to rinse off. Eve sent some makeup along as well.”

Claire felt grateful beyond words. There was something so comforting about having familiar clothes at hand and the ability to put on some mascara and lip gloss. Although under the circumstances, the last thing she really should care about was her appearance, she still wanted Lucian to see her at her best.

She’d be leaving soon.

And now her hair was gone.

The maid left her at the door and said that Lucian was just outside when she was ready. He said to tell her that he’d had a meal and a few drinks, even a mojito, though the woman had said he’d smiled when he’d said that part.

She smiled now as well.

Once the door closed, Claire went into the bathroom and looked herself over first. Whoever had cut her hair while she’d been recovering had done a decent job, but it was short, most of it no longer than two inches. Her hair had always had some wave, and when she saw the mousse and a brush on the counter she burst into tears. She wanted things back the way they were.

After a few moments, she pulled herself together and got the water running. As she stepped under the spray, she thought of only one thing: that she’d be going home soon and didn’t want to, which was absurd.

In the end, as she dressed her hair with mousse, giving it a little fluff, as she put on some mascara and lip gloss, she couldn’t get rid of the sadness she felt. This was what she’d wanted all this time, to go back to Santa Fe, to resume her life, and now she felt as though she’d been given a prison sentence.

And then there was Zoey, lost to her now forever.

Claire, are you all right?

Lucian’s voice within her mind brought the same feelings forward, and tears once more welled. And she’d bragged about not being a weeper. Famous last words.

She dabbed beneath her eyes, catching what she could, with the sides of her fingers. I’ll be fine. I’m fine. I’m all healed up. I’ll be out in a minute.

Only then, as she drew her feelings in, did she begin to take in Lucian’s current state, as the chain vibrated against her neck. He was worried about her, probably because the last time he’d seen her she’d been blistered, bleeding, her hair burned.

She dressed in jeans and—damn that Rumy—a pair of flashy black stilettos, the only shoes he’d provided. She could just see him smile, thinking how funny this would be for her. The bra wasn’t much better, since it pushed her up and out. The blouse, a soft light-green T-shirt fabric, had a low scoop neck and showed off what she knew Lucian loved.

As she took in her reflection in the long mirror on the back of the door, her hair still freaked her out. But overall, most warm-blooded males would like what they saw, even warm-blooded vampires. Of course the irony wasn’t lost to her, yet another indication that she’d come to see Lucian’s world in a different light.

Still, she needed and wanted to go home.

Lucian, I’m coming out now, but I think I should warn you, my hair’s all cropped off. I’ll probably look a little strange.

I don’t give a damn about your hair. I just want to look at you, to know that you’re okay.

I’m fine. Her heart, on the other hand, told a completely different story.

Taking a deep breath, she pulled the door open.

She was grateful for two things: First, that Lucian was alone, and second, that his eyes lit up when he saw her, but quickly fell to half-mast as his gaze drifted slowly down her body then back up.

Oh, shit, she was going to miss the vampire bad.

Lucian did not recognize the feelings that poured through him in wave after wave as Claire moved in his direction. Yes, her hair was short, but that wasn’t what he reacted to. He saw only the woman who had piggybacked him safely over a path that probably would have killed him otherwise. He saw the woman who had thrown a disguise in Siberia, getting herself cut up in the process, but allowing him to get them both back safely to The Erotic Passage. He saw the woman who had rescued him from the Dark Cave system by taking on a proximity-enforcing blood-chain.

She’d thrown herself in the path of danger repeatedly on his behalf and he didn’t deserve it, not even a little bit.

Oh, Lucian, you’re such a fool.

She ran to him, and he caught her up in his arms and held her against his chest. His throat felt tight, an utter betrayal of every intention of holding it together so that he could let her go. She needed to get back to her life, her real life, not this nightmare world of his that had cost her so much.

Claire.

He felt her tug her hand free and knew she wiped her cheeks. How the hell was he supposed to get through this? In the span of three nights he’d come to feel as though he’d lived a century with her. Damn blood-chains.

I know. Damn chains.

She hugged him in response, occasionally swiping at her cheeks. So how stupid does my hair look?

He finally released her, but he couldn’t see her hair. All he saw was Claire, the woman who had come to mean more to him than he’d ever thought possible, though he had no way of explaining that to her.

But she truly looked worried. Women worried about stuff, a lot more than men did.

He lifted his hand and slid his fingers through her short hair. “You look beautiful, and I truly could not give a fuck what length your hair is. It got burned off saving my ass. I’ll treasure what I see right now for as long as I live.”

“That’s a long time, vampire.”

He nodded slowly. A long time to live without this human.

He swallowed hard. He needed to feed. Warning tremors had been sitting offshore ready to blow in and swamp him hard for the past couple of hours. But he was sick of feeling this awful need, remnants of the blood-madness that each battle situation kept igniting.

“You need my vein, don’t you?”

He nodded. “I can feed elsewhere, Claire. You don’t need to keep donating.”

“The hell you’re going to use some other woman, so long as I’m around.”

Her eyes crinkled with amusement but he couldn’t respond in kind because all he could see was SANTA FE blinking like a shoddy hotel sign, over and over in his mind. Right now he hated the city and never wanted to see it again, or think about it, or picture Claire living there without him.

She stepped back just a little, but took his hands in hers. “We have to say good-bye, don’t we?”

He nodded. “We both know it’s for the best.”

Her gaze shunted away. “And nothing material has changed except that we both have what we want, what we needed from each other: You have the weapon, and I know now that my friend is dead.”