The blood flowing from her wrists made them slippery, but she kept working. The ropes were beginning to loosen. It wasn’t just her imagination. But it got harder and harder to make her hands do what she wanted. Laurel Rose struggled to make her fingers work. Her brain grew foggy until she couldn’t remember what it was she was trying to do in the first place.

  Her hands fell back to rest against the hard, unyielding stone. She was so cold and so very tired. She’d just rest for a minute.

  Sound and sight and feeling all faded as she slid into darkness.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Fear unlike any he’d ever known gripped Stefan as he raced through the darkness. He could feel Laurel Rose’s fear and pain as keenly as if they were his own. But he buried all emotion deep within him as hundreds of years of training as a warrior kicked in. His hand opened and closed into a fist, longing for his sword, which was back in his home in New Orleans. The blade was a familiar extension of his arm—a weapon he’d used with deadly skill and accuracy on many occasions over the long, dark centuries. But with or without his sword, he would destroy his enemy. He was not only lethal with a blade. His mind was an even sharper weapon, relentlessly honed over the years.

  The church appeared as unassuming as ever, but Stefan knew it harbored an evil secret. Laurel Rose was not in the church, but below it. Following her energy signature, he found the secret entrance. He raced down the dark, dank staircase to the chamber below with his brothers right behind him. The force of Stefan’s anger blew the heavy wooden door inward, shattering it into tiny pieces. Laurel Rose was here. And her life force was waning with each passing second.

  He took in the entire scene in one swift glance—the candles flickering against the stone walls, the snakes in their aquarium homes, the long stone altar where Laurel Rose was bound and naked, and the man standing above her with a knife in his hand.

  Jeremiah Stoner was a dead man. He just didn’t know it yet.

  The air was awash with the smell of blood and fear. Her blood. Her fear. Stefan growled and advanced on Jeremiah.

  “Stop or I’ll kill her.” Jeremiah’s face was pale in the candlelight, but his grip was firm on the knife. He still believed he had the upper hand. Still believed that he could win. “You’re supposed to be dead.” Jeremiah seemed to be more perturbed than frightened.

  Stefan felt it then—the push at his mind. The other man’s puny attempt to control him using his psychic powers. Stefan smiled.

  Jeremiah’s eyes glazed over and his face turned red. “I will have her blood. There is power in the blood and when I drink it, I will be more powerful than you can imagine.” Jeremiah kept the knife pressed against Laurel Rose’s neck as he reached for the chalice with his other hand.

  This time when Stefan smiled, he allowed his fangs to show. His eyes glowed red as he advanced. “There is power in the blood, Jeremiah.” Stefan’s voice was soft, almost gentle. The other man stood frozen in place.

  Stefan felt Jeremiah’s panic as the other man realized he couldn’t move his own body. It was no longer under his control. “No one harms my woman and lives.” With fury and vengeance firing his blood, Stefan sent a mental command toward the other man, pushing past Jeremiah’s resistance as if it were nothing.

  Cristofor and Lucian stood behind him. Power unlike anything Stefan had ever wielded flowed through his veins, and he knew his brothers were feeding their energy into him. The full force of the Dalakis power was being brought to bear against this monster.

  Jeremiah jerked back against the wall, his body slamming against the cold stone, his eyes wide with fear. Sweat rolled down his face. The hand holding the long silver blade jerked up in front of him. Although he fought with all his might, his hand turned against his will, the sharp blade coming to rest over his heart. “No,” he whispered. “It’s not fair. The power is mine. It’s mine,” he moaned as he plunged the dagger into his own heart.

  Ever so slowly, Jeremiah slid down the wall. Disbelief shone in his eyes as the life faded from them. He slumped over onto the floor.

  None of the brothers gave him a second look.

  Stefan ripped away the ropes wrapped around Laurel Rose’s wrists. Blood. There was so much blood. It spilled over the chalice and onto the floor. The smell was thick in his nostrils. The faint beat of her heartbeat grew weaker. Carefully, he lowered her hands back down to her sides. Cristofor had loosened the bonds around her feet and stepped silently away from the stone table.

  Grabbing her wrists, Stefan licked the deep wounds, closing them instantly. But even as he did it, he knew it was too late. She had lost far too much blood and her body was beginning to shut down. Her chest hardly moved as her lips parted on a low wheeze. Laurel Rose’s breath was almost gone.

  Her eyelids fluttered open. She looked up at him, her blue eyes filled with love. She tried to speak but gasped instead. Her eyes closed, but he heard her words in his mind as clearly as if she’d spoken them aloud. I knew you would come.

  Her faith in him brought him to his knees beside her. He’d come, but was it too late? They’d never talked about him attempting to convert her. She’d wanted to, but he’d put her off, wanting her to have more time to become accustomed to the idea. Always assuming they’d have time to discuss it later.

  Now, he didn’t know what she’d choose. Did she want to join him for eternity? Or was she content to have shared what time they’d had together? If he changed her, would she hate him forever?

  Cristofor roughly shoved him aside and reached for Laurel Rose. Stefan growled, launching himself at his older brother. “Don’t touch her.”

  Cristofor barely eluded Stefan’s lunge and they began to circle one another. With their blazing red eyes and their deadly fangs, they were more beasts than men. “You are strong, Stefan. More powerful than I had imagined. Use that strength to save her.”

  Stefan swiped out at Cristofor with his arm, and his elongated nails missed his brother by no more than a whisper.

  “If you won’t attempt to convert her, I will,” Cristofor growled, his fangs long and sharp. His red eyes flashed his anger, showing traces of brilliant green.

  “No one touches her but me,” Stefan snarled. He lunged for Laurel Rose and gathered her into his protective embrace. He’d kill anyone who tried to take her from him. Anyone.

  “Then change her. I will not lose you.” Cristofor’s anguish hit Stefan like a blow to the gut, almost doubling him over with pain. “We will all help her.”

  What had he done? He’d attacked his brother, a man he loved and respected. He shook his head to clear away the fury threatening to undo him. Lucian’s hand dropped onto his shoulder and squeezed. “You must change her. It is your only chance. And quickly, before it is too late.”

  Lucian was right. If he didn’t act now the opportunity would be lost. Laurel Rose wouldn’t last much longer. Stefan blocked out his brothers’ concern. He blocked out the dank little room that stank of blood and death and focused entirely on the woman locked in his embrace. Her head lolled against his chest, her body limp. All the vibrancy, the joy that was Laurel Rose was missing. If he didn’t act soon, it would be gone forever.

  Cradling her in his arms on the cold stone altar, he knew that if she died, he would not see another day in this world.

  She might hate him for what he was about to do, but he’d rather she be alive and hate him than dead and lost to him. “You are my heart,” he murmured before he sank his fangs into the tender flesh of her neck. She had so little blood left, having already spilled most of it for the fevered madness of Jeremiah Stoner, but he ruthlessly drained it from her body.

  His composure almost shattered when he felt her tip her neck ever so slightly toward him, offering herself to him. Even dying, she would give him whatever he needed.

  When he felt the last beat of her heart, he carefully withdrew his fangs and sealed the small puncture wound. He used his sharp teeth to tear a gash in his own wrist. He placed the open wound against her almost blue lips, forcing them apart. His blood poured into her mouth and leaked out the corners. “Drink,” he commanded her.

  Lucian reached around him and rubbed her throat gently, silently encouraging her to swallow.

  Lifeless in his arms, Laurel Rose did nothing. Closing his eyes and concentrating harder than he ever had in his life, Stefan sought the fading thread of her life force. When he found it, he clamped down on it with an iron grip. He would not let her go. He would follow her into death if need be, but he would not let her go.

  Mentally, he called out to her, commanding, ordering, pleading, and begging her to stay with him. They would live or die together.

  Stefan felt her slipping away, her spirit getting more ethereal with each passing second. He was losing her. “Laurel Rose,” he cried, his voice hoarse with barely suppressed emotion. “Don’t leave me.” His desperate plea echoed in his head even as it bounced off the walls of the room.

  He opened his eyes and gazed at his brothers, who were flanking him on either side, their hands gripping him tight. “No!” Stefan howled with grief. He shook the lifeless body of the woman in his arms. “No!” he roared. He couldn’t lose her. He’d only just found her.

  Her chin and mouth were smeared with his blood. A lone teardrop fell from his face and landed on her lips.

  Suddenly, her whole body jerked. She sucked in a deep breath and coughed and sputtered before she finally began to swallow. Stefan forced his wrist back against her lips, his entire body shaking. Hope sprang to life in him once more. “Drink, my love. Live for us both.”

  Her mouth clamped down hard on his flesh and she began to suck his life-giving blood into her body. Stefan closed his eyes and offered a silent prayer of thanks.

  Cristofor sat down next to him and calmly offered him the large chalice. “Drink. This is your mate’s blood that she shed for you. You need it to replenish yourself.”

  Stefan nodded and Cristofor held the chalice to his lips, allowing him to drink. Her blood was still warm. A surge of pleasure spiked inside him. Her blood was sweet and so was she. Laurel Rose was alive.

  “Thank you.” He looked at Cristofor and then Lucian. “Thank you.” He might not have been able to hold her without their added strength.

  When he was sure she’d taken enough, he eased his wrist away from Laurel Rose and licked it to close the wound. She whimpered once and then sank into what appeared to be unconsciousness, but was in reality a deep sleep.

  Using his shirtsleeve, Stefan was wiping the blood from her face when he heard someone coming. Instinctively knowing that it was a friend, he ignored the intruder and returned his attention to the woman cradled tenderly in his arms.

  The sound of boot heels rang on the stairs. “Oh, shit,” Sam Cassidy muttered when he stepped through the doorway and glanced at the remnants of the door. “Oh, shit,” he repeated when he caught sight of Stefan with Laurel Rose cradled in his arms. His sharp gaze took in the bloodstains on her face and body. “Not this again.” Stefan knew that Cassidy was remembering a similar scene with Lucian and Delight that had played itself out several months before.

  Stefan finished wiping the blood from Laurel Rose’s mouth and then stood, clutching her gently in his arms. Lucian removed his long wool coat and tucked it carefully around her naked body. “Take her home. We will clean up here and then we will join you.”

  “Aaron and Clem are still in the woods outside her home.”

  “We will take care of it,” he promised.

  Taking Lucian at his word, Stefan carried Laurel Rose out of the bowels of the church.

  “How are we going to explain this?” he heard Sam ask.

  “We aren’t,” Cristofor replied. “Come morning this room will no longer exist. Jeremiah Stoner and all his secrets will be buried here forever.”

  Satisfied that everything was under control, Stefan raced back toward the mountain with his precious bundle cradled in his arms. He only hoped that when she awoke, the love and acceptance she’d always given him in the past wouldn’t have turned to hate.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Laurel Rose’s head was pounding. She had no idea where she was or what time it was. She cracked her eyes open just a bit, but closed them quickly when the light hurt them. It was dark in the room, but several candles flickered on the nightstand and the dresser. She lay atop a soft mattress. When she took a breath, she recognized the familiar smell of lavender that scented her sheets. She was home, but her stomach churned and she felt too ill to move.

  “How is she?” Laurel Rose heard a woman softly ask. She heard a deep male sigh and knew that Stefan was in the room with her. Frowning slightly, she wondered who this unknown woman was and why she was here with Stefan.

  “I don’t know.” Stefan’s voice was so low she had to strain to hear it.

  “It will be all right, Stefan.” Laurel Rose open her eyelids a crack and saw a pretty brown-haired woman with her fingers resting lightly on Stefan’s arm. She had the almost overwhelming urge to knock the woman’s hand away from him. And she would too, just as soon as she could summon the energy to move. Stefan belonged to her.

  “Will it, Delight? I’m not so sure.” Relief hit her when she recognized the name. But then confusion took its place. What was Stefan’s sister-in-law doing here? Pain wrapped around her skull and she closed her eyes against the sensation. The voices beside her faded and gradually stopped altogether. Footsteps faded in the distance as one of them left the room.

  She didn’t know how long she drifted before the pounding headache finally began to recede and memories gradually surfaced. Had she really been kidnapped and tied to a stone altar? Had Jeremiah Stoner done all those things to her? Had he drained her blood? Or had it all been just a dream? Stefan had been there too. And she had a vague memory of unfamiliar voices, but she couldn’t quite recall what they’d said. Frowning, she tried desperately to make sense of the random images flickering in her mind.

  The last thing she fully recalled was driving toward home and wanting to eat her cookie-dough ice cream. “Ice cream,” she muttered as she licked her dry lips.

  “You’re home and you’re safe, Laurel Rose.” The mattress sank as Stefan sat down beside her. She felt the covers being tucked more securely against her body.

  “Accident. Ice cream,” she muttered, trying to force her scrambled brain to make sense of what had happened.

  “Yes, there was an accident, but you’re fine . . .” His voice trailed off. “Everything is fine.” She sensed his hesitation and forced her eyes open again. He looked so gorgeous sitting next to her. His long hair fell over his shoulders and chest as he leaned forward. His hand was warm against her forehead as he gently pushed a lock of hair out of her face. “Did you want ice cream?”

  “No.” She licked her lips again. “Had some.”

  “In the truck?”

  Laurel Rose started to nod, but stopped when it made her head throb again. She felt his hands cover the top of her head, felt them grow hotter the longer they rested there. The pain in her skull dulled to a manageable level and she knew that she had Stefan to thank for that.

  “What else do you remember?”

  “Jeremiah Stoner.” Her memory was starting to return quickly now. “Shot out my tire.” She licked her dry lips. “Kidnapped me.” She remembered being naked, cold and bound, and she shivered. Stefan tugged another quilt over her, his gaze never leaving her. “There was a room and a large stone table. I was tied up. He was crazy.” She was becoming more agitated with every word.

  “Shhh.” Stefan leaned down and placed a soft kiss on her forehead. “You don’t have to talk about it until you’re ready. Just relax.”

  But the floodgates had opened and it all just kept spewing out. “He thought if he drank my blood, whatever psychic powers I possess would become his. I kept him talking. I knew you’d come if I could just distract him long enough for you to get there. His name isn’t even really Jeremiah Stoner. He killed the real pastor and took his place. He also killed the man who built the room below the church for him. I don’t know how many people he’s murdered by draining them of their blood.” Laurel Rose shuddered. “He’s insane.”

  “You don’t need to worry about Stoner. He can’t hurt you or anyone else.” Stefan’s eyes were like shards of green ice. No, Stefan would not have allowed the other man to live. Laurel Rose closed her eyes and said a prayer for the man even though he didn’t deserve it. She also offered up a prayer for the other victims of Jeremiah’s sick obsession.

  Stefan moved away from her and began to prowl around the room. “What else do you remember?”

  She could tell that something was definitely bothering Stefan, but she didn’t know what it could be. She concentrated on her answer while continuing to watch him closely. “I remember that he cut me. I was bleeding, but the bonds on my hands were getting looser. Then you were there. I heard other voices too.” As hard as she tried, she couldn’t place the voices of the other men. She had no idea who they were.

  “My brothers,” he answered. He waved his hand as if they were of no importance. “What else?”

  “It got dark.” She’d been very frightened and alone at first. “You were yelling at me, calling to me to stay with you.” She frowned as she remembered. “You were in my mind urging me to fight, to drink.”

  “I was,” he confirmed. He halted at the end of the bed and crossed his arms over his massive chest. His face looked as if it were carved from stone, showing no emotion whatsoever.

  “I was dying,” she began slowly. “But I’m not dead.” She rubbed a hand across her forehead. “You . . . You pulled me away from death and back to you.”

  Stefan nodded slowly but kept his distance. She felt so cold without him next to her. “I took your blood and gave you mine. I did not allow you the choice of living or dying, but made it for you.” His lips thinned and he looked angry. At her? At himself? She wasn’t sure.