“Did I or did I not tell you what would happen if Ami came to harm?” Seth posed in a soft, deadly voice.

Was that what this was about? Ami?

Since he was choking, Marcus could only think a response and hope Seth heard him. I can’t talk to you about this if you crush my trachea.

Seth hesitated, as though tempted to do just that, then released him.

Marcus’s boots hit the ground hard. Careening to one side, he caught himself before he could fall to his knees and stood hunched over as he endeavored to breathe.

The virus raced to repair the damage to his lungs. His ribs would take longer and require a substantial amount of blood. His hands, he was surprised to see, shook quite badly. For a moment there, he had thought Seth really intended to destroy him.

His gaze slid to the irate leader of the Immortal Guardians, who turned and paced away with long, livid strides.

The trees stilled, as did the ground beneath them. The rumbling ceased, leaving in its wake a silence that was almost painful, as dislodged leaves fluttered timidly to the ground.

No insects hummed.

No frogs sang.

Nothing made a sound except the soles of Seth’s boots as they struck the concrete with resounding thuds.

Biting back a groan, Marcus straightened … as much as his battered body would allow. “What—?” His throat spasmed, and a fit of coughing seized him.

Emitting a sound of impatience, Seth ceased his pacing and barreled toward him.

Marcus took a wary step backward.

“Stand still!” Seth snapped. His large hand again closed around Marcus’s neck, gentler this time. Heat radiated from his palm, increasing as the swelling in Marcus’s throat eased and the pain receded.

As he withdrew his healing touch, Seth glared a warning. “If you say ‘thank you,’ I will kick your ass.”

A shamelessly easy task, it would appear.

Seth once more paced away and stopped with his back to Marcus. Brushing the sides of his long coat back, he propped his hands on his hips and lowered his head. Marcus could almost hear him counting to ten in a bid for patience.

Had Ami accused Marcus of hurting her in some way?

“What exactly did she tell you?” he asked cautiously.

Seth shook his head. “That you have been nothing but civil toward her.”

Really? That was a bit of a stretch, but Marcus thought it wise not to admit as much. “And that made you fly into a murderous rage because … ?”

Seth swung around. “Because I expected more from you!” The glow in his eyes faded, returning them to their customary brown-black.

Marcus stiffened, biting back a moan at the agony it spawned in his ribs. (Seth had only healed his throat.) This was the first time he had ever landed on the receiving end of Seth’s wrath, and he felt a bit like a teenager being upbraided by a parent for staying out past curfew.

A parent who, if the rumors were true, could kill him with only a thought.

“You knew I didn’t want a Second,” he reminded Seth, his own anger rising. “What did you think I would do? Ask her if I could braid her hair after we gave each other facials and painted our toenails?”

“Get your head out of your ass, Marcus!” Seth roared.

“Did it ever occur to you that I may have had a reason for assigning Ami to be your Second? That, perhaps, my sole motivation for doing so was not simply to piss you off or enforce a rule I have allowed you to break—without complaint—for the past three decades?”

“No,” he answered frankly. “What other reason could there be?”

Again came the feeling that Seth counted to ten, except this time he also muttered something in a language Marcus couldn’t identify.

When next he spoke, Seth softened his words. “It has been eight years, my friend.”

Marcus gritted his teeth against a rising tide of resentment, because he could guess where this was going.

“I know that, for centuries, Bethany was a sort of beacon for you, a candle that held back the darkness, giving you a reason to keep going and to soldier on despite the loneliness so many of us feel. But she is gone. And, this time, she will not be coming back.” Seth really knew how to twist the blade in deeper. “I have given you eight years, have waited for some sign that you are recovering, that you have found some new purpose and are ready to move on. Instead … you are faltering.”

“I’m fine,” Marcus bit out.

“No, you’re not. You’re faltering. So much so that even Roland is concerned about you.”

That actually gave Marcus pause. Roland was worried about him?

A century older, Roland Warbrook had been the immortal chosen to train and guide Marcus during those first few years after he had been transformed. He was like a brother to Marcus. A grumpy, antisocial, paranoid older brother few liked. One who, until he had met and married Sarah Bingham a year and a half ago, had insisted on living the past nine centuries in complete solitude.

Marcus had never known Roland to take an interest in another immortal’s affairs, including his own. “What makes you think he’s worried about me?” he asked doubtfully.

Seth rolled his eyes. “Gee, I don’t know. Because he told me? We’re all worried about you, Marcus! Roland, Sarah, David, Darnell, Lisette, Étienne, Richart, Reordon … We’ve all noticed the changes in you, the risks you take now that you didn’t before.”

“What risks?”

Seth motioned to the totaled Hayabusa.

Marcus snorted. “David goes way faster than I do.”

“And David can reattach his own arm if it is severed.”

Shock tripped through him. “Really? I thought he needed you to do that.” David was more powerful than Marcus had thought.

“Don’t change the subject. You know the unique situation we’re facing here. Ever since word leaked that Sebastien was raising a vampire army to bring down the Immortal Guardians, North Carolina has been inundated with them. Instead of facing one or two vamps per night, you’re encountering three or four or more—sometimes in groups—and, instead of phoning for backup, you take them all on yourself.”

“So I like a challenge.”

Seth shook his head. “One should never only feel alive when one is faced with the possibility of death.”

Damn. How did Seth read him so well? “I’m fine,” he insisted once more, not knowing why he still pushed the lie. He hadn’t felt fine in a long time.

“You are not fine. But you will be. Even if I have to kick your ass every night to get you there.”

“How is kicking my ass going to help?” Marcus grouched.

Seth shrugged. “Makes me feel better.”

Marcus responded with an obscene gesture. “So, you thought assigning me a Second would miraculously make everything okay?”

Seth raised one eyebrow. “How often have you thought of Bethany during the past five days?”

Marcus opened his mouth to spout often, then hesitated. With a great deal of astonishment, he realized that until Ami had mentioned her earlier he hadn’t thought of Bethany at all. He had been too consumed with figuring out ways to thwart Ami’s determination to serve as his Second.

Seth smiled smugly and gave him a mocking bow, arms out to the side. “You’re welcome. I assume my check is in the mail.”

Marcus stared at him, pissed because Seth’s plan had worked and torn between guilt and relief that Bethany’s memory for once had faded into the background.

“You needed a distraction, Marcus. Something to shake you up and throw a little chaos into your routine.” Seth’s face darkened. “But I didn’t just do this for you. I did it for Ami, too.” He looked in the direction of Marcus’s home.

For Ami, who had told Seth Marcus had been civil to her when she could just as easily have tattled and told him Marcus had avoided her at every turn and spoken sharply to her when he hadn’t succeeded.

“Look, at the risk of ending up a pile of ashes on the pavement, I have to admit I still don’t understand why you’re so upset. Even Ami told you I haven’t harmed her in any way.”

Seth’s eyes flashed to golden flames. “She isn’t sleeping!” he bellowed.

Marcus’s jaw dropped. “You’re pissed at me because she isn’t getting enough beauty sleep?” Unbelievable. “That’s her choice, not mine. Yes, I changed my sleep schedule in an attempt to avoid her. Call it childish if you like. I really don’t care. But I have no control over the fact that she altered hers to match mine so she could keep hounding me. If she isn’t getting the requisite eight hours—”

“Listen. Very. Closely,” Seth annunciated carefully as he strolled forward. “I didn’t say she isn’t getting enough sleep. I said. She. Isn’t. Sleeping. Period. She hasn’t so much as nodded off since the night before I brought her to you.”

“She told you that?”

“Yes, reluctantly, when I specifically asked her about it.”

“She’s lying.”

Seth stopped no more than two feet away. “Again, if you would get your head out of your ass, you would notice that Ami can’t lie worth a damn and very rarely even tries.”

Marcus stared up at him. “But that would mean she hasn’t slept in—”

“Six days.”

“That’s impossible. My attempts to evade her all failed, and I haven’t noticed any mood swings or hallucinations or problems with concentration or short-term memory.”

“Nor will you. When Ami is sleep deprived, the only physical manifestation you will see is shadowing beneath her eyes.”

Well, she did have that. “This has happened before?” Marcus asked, puzzled.

“Yes.”

“Then why do you think I’m responsible?” Her insomnia could have been triggered by an illness, though Marcus had neither sensed nor scented the presence of anything.

Seth stared at him for a long moment, the glow in his eyes diminishing, then turned and strolled away. “Ami has had a difficult life, Marcus.” A mirthless laugh emerged as he shook his head. “Difficult,” he repeated, making a mockery of the word. “In truth, she has suffered more in the past two years alone than you have in the entirety of your existence.”