“The colors in her luceria have nearly solidified.”

“But not totally. They were still swirling tonight. I saw it myself.”

“You were too tired to sense what I did. It’s been so long since I’ve seen another bonded pair that I almost forgot what it felt like to be near them. There’s a kind of harmony in the air around them.”

Gilda pulled in a deep breath as she remembered that harmony from her youth and again from tonight. “You’re right. It was there. How can that be? There wasn’t time for them to bond permanently yet.”

Angus shrugged his wide shoulders. “I’m not sure if it’s because he’s waited so long for her or if it’s because she’s already used so much of his power. In any case, they’re nearly tied together. If you try to kill her, after that’s happened, Drake won’t survive. One way or another.”

Gilda closed her eyes against a wave of panic. She couldn’t save Drake unless she got Helen to cooperate. She had to do something to make that happen. All of her boys—her adopted family—were dying one by one. She’d already lost all of her biological children. Even centuries didn’t ease the gnawing pain of watching a child die. She remembered her little boy’s face. His smiles.

None of her babies could smile anymore.

She’d lost Thomas and Kevin and Andrew and countless others. She was not going to lose Drake, too.

Drake expected to find Helen asleep when he returned to his suite. She was exhausted, which was why he’d left her alone to begin with. He knew that if he stayed there and helped her into bed the way his protective instincts were clamoring at him to do, he’d end up crawling right in with her. He’d strip them both naked, cover her curvy body with his, and thrust inside her until he was buried too deep to think about anything besides the slick heat of her gripping him. Until there was no room left for fear or worry or grief—just the two of them striving for that perfect pleasure where nothing bad could touch them.

But when he let himself back into his suite and checked in on her to see whether she was sleeping soundly, he found an empty bed instead. The blankets hadn’t even been rumpled.

Drake cursed and focused on their link in an effort to find her. He knew she was safe here—at least from Synestryn—but he didn’t like the idea of her wandering around alone. There were too many things that could happen to her, even at the hands of those he considered allies. There were too many men here who could hurt her without trying. Too many men who needed her for things she didn’t yet understand. Logan’s blood oath had proven that.

Just the thought that Logan had the right to demand she give him blood whenever he wanted it made Drake want to kill him. And that violent thought made his head pound. Fucking peace bond.

It took several deep breaths before Drake was able to clear his head enough to determine where Helen had gone. He followed the subtle tug on his ring, which led him to the sliding glass doors onto the patio at the back of his suite.

He’d never done much with the slab of concrete the way some of Dabyr’s residents had. He hadn’t planted any pots of flowers or bought patio furniture or installed a hot tub. He rarely had time to enjoy his home, and his patio was a bleak square of cement that glowed pale in the darkness.

Helen sat at the outside edge of the patio facing the grounds. From here, she had a view of the lake where they’d worked earlier. Beside her was an empty pitcher, which, based on her soggy clothes and hair, she’d upended over herself. The thin cotton of her T-shirt clung to her skin and Drake’s stomach tightened against a rush of desire.

She looked good in the moonlight. Softer, which he didn’t think was possible. He knew just how soft she was all over, and the memory alone was nearly enough to bring him to his knees. He wanted to touch her so bad it made his hands shake and he had to take several deep breaths before he trusted himself to get closer to her.

Drake slid the glass door open and stepped outside. Helen didn’t turn around. She didn’t so much as twitch or acknowledge his presence in any way. She sat completely still, her legs crossed and her forearms resting on her knees, her palms facing up.

That’s when he felt it—a tiny trickle of power flowing out of him so minute he hadn’t sensed it before. She was trying to call fire.

Drake sat down behind her, scooting his body as close to hers as he could get without touching. It was a lovely form of torture to be so close but not nearly close enough. He could smell her skin, warm from effort and the sultry night air, and the scent of whatever laundry soap the Gerai had used to clean her clothes. Water dripped from her earlobes and hair. Her skin was beaded with moisture so that it glistened in the faint light.

She still hadn’t looked at him. Her concentration was too intense. He could feel the tension of her mental effort vibrating in her delicate bones and muscles. Her body was rigid and Drake wanted to pull her into his arms and ease away the strain. He didn’t like her pushing herself like this. It was too much. She needed rest, and as her Theronai, it was part of his job to see that she got whatever she needed.

Of course, part of what she needed right now was confidence that she could do the job she was designed to do. Gilda had shaken Helen’s faith in herself too much tonight and this was her way of trying to reestablish some of that confidence. Drake knew that. He didn’t like it, but he understood why she felt the need to push so hard.

He had only two choices. He could help her regain her confidence or stop her from hurting herself. Both her physical and emotional health were important and it was hard to justify placing one over another.

Drake wondered whether Angus ever had to deal with this kind of dilemma. It wasn’t something that was covered during all those long lessons about what his duties to his lady would be. And he hadn’t had any lessons for so long that he wasn’t sure how much of it he remembered, anyway. Once the Synestryn had killed most of their women, the Theronai lost hope that they would ever be so lucky to find a woman like Helen.

Drake still couldn’t believe his good fortune and he knew that he had to get this right. He had to protect her and convince her to stay with him.

Helen shuddered and gasped. Her body slumped forward and Drake was left with no more choices. He had to touch her. He had to hold her and convince her to rest. She wasn’t going to make any progress as tired as she was.

Drake pulled her back against his chest and she jumped at the contact before relaxing into him. “Drake,” she panted. “I didn’t know you were there.”

Water soaked thorough his shirt, but he didn’t care. It conducted the heat of his body, letting it flow into her. Her skin was chilled and he ran his hands up and down her arms in an effort to warm her.

“You were busy,” he said quietly.

She leaned her head back and looked up at him. The whites of her eyes were nearly red—more bloodshot than he’d ever seen. He’d heard that this could happen if a woman tried to channel too much power, but he’d seen Gilda handle a lot of magic at one time and her eyes had never been more than a little bloodshot. Nothing like this. If he needed any proof that he was doing the right thing, this was it. Helen had pushed herself too hard.

His arms tightened around her against his will and he fought back the primal urge to shove his way into her mind, render her unconscious, and be done with it. The only thing that held him back was the sure knowledge that if he did that, he wouldn’t like the results come morning.

He wanted Helen’s trust, not her anger.

Her lungs were still laboring and every few seconds, she’d shiver as if fevered. Drake pressed a hand to her head. It was cool and damp.

Helen closed her eyes and let out a sigh at his touch. “You’re warm.”

Her soft, quiet voice sank into him, heating him further. He loved her voice. Especially when she was crying out his name in release.

His body responded to the memory with a blast of need that had him hardening so fast it hurt. He shifted Helen’s body to shield her from his rampant lack of control, but he wasn’t going to be able to keep his distance for long. He needed to get her dry and warm and in bed. Alone.

“I’d like you to rest,” he told her in his most diplomatic tone. Of course, with his blood pounding hotly through his veins and his cock hard enough to mine for diamonds, it came out sounding more like a growling command.

“I think I almost have it,” she said. “I want to try again.”

“Not tonight.”

“Yes, tonight. We may not have another day for me to practice.”

“Then we don’t. You can’t push yourself any more tonight. You’re going to hurt yourself.”

“I’m being careful.”

“You don’t know how to be careful. How could you? You’ve never been taught.”

She shook her head a little and droplets of water sprinkled down. “I can feel it—like some sort of internal warning system.”

Drake had never heard of such a thing, but he was glad she had it. “You’re exhausted and so am I.” That last part was a lie, but he didn’t feel even a twinge of guilt.

Her mouth turned down in a sympathetic frown. “I’m sorry, Drake. I didn’t even think about how hard it had to be on you for me to pull all this power from you. Why didn’t you say something?”

Okay, maybe he felt a little guilty. “It’s not a big deal. Let’s just get dried off and get some rest. We’ll try again tomorrow, okay?”

Helen nodded wearily and Drake helped her to her feet. She swayed for a moment before steadying herself. The painful-looking redness in her eyes bothered him more by the second, but he stayed calm so that he wouldn’t frighten her.

Maybe he needed to call one of the Sanguinar to tend to her. He didn’t like the idea of another man touching her, but he liked the idea of her suffering a lot less. “Your eyes are pretty bad. How do they feel?”

“Like they’re on fire, but I’ll live.”

“Do you want me to call someone to heal them?” he asked.

She gave him a sickly grimace. “One of those vampires? No, thank you. I’d rather suffer.”

Drake grinned. Vampires. Logan was going to hate it when she called him that, which was exactly why he didn’t correct her. “Then at least let me help you with the pain.”

“You can do that?”

Rather than answer her, Drake settled his hand around her throat until the two parts of the luceria connected. He felt a sudden burst of pleasure at the touch—complete and utter rightness and contentment—and had to consciously keep his grip relaxed and not curl his fingers around her neck in a heated caress. It took him a moment to focus enough to find the pain in her mind and pull it into his own.

His eyes burned as if someone had taken a blowtorch to them. He had to blink several times before he could clear the tears that had welled up to fight the sting. After a few moments, he became used to the burning sensation and ignored it. If there was one thing he knew how to do, it was ignore pain.

“Wow, that’s one heck of an aspirin,” she said, smiling. “Thanks.” She went up on tiptoe and pressed a chaste kiss to his mouth.