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neutralized.”
    So it had been intentional. She hadn’t been sure until that
moment.
    “Not only are you helpless, you will slowly weaken and die.
Your body depends on your symbionts far more than you realize. Tell us what you
know and we’ll give you the antidote. I really don’t want to watch you die.”
With that cryptic statement echoing in the room, he stepped into the hall and
shut the door.
    She stood there for a moment, staring at the closed door, more
stunned than afraid. Forty-two hours? If she’d been unconscious almost two days
her mother had to have people searching for her. Unless Garrett’s imposter
provided an explanation for her absence. What had they done with the real
Garrett? Everyone believed the Levari had died out, so she didn’t know enough
about the strain to decide if they would be ruthless enough to kill Garrett
outright or stash him somewhere until the impostor completed the task. She
shook her head and pressed her hand over her pounding heart. The mystery was
irrelevant. She couldn’t help Garrett or anyone else unless she escaped.
    Too anxious to stand still, she crossed the room and tried
the door handle. It was unlikely that her captor had been careless enough to
leave it open, but she needed to find out. It was locked. The bed, a banged-up
dresser and a faded chair were the only furnishings, so she knelt on the floor
and looked under the bed. With her Vladya abilities stifled, she had to find
some sort of weapon. If her captor was anything like the hosts she knew, his
next visit would escalate to an aggressive interrogation.
    The only thing under the bed was a cluster of dust bunnies.
The contents of the dresser were just as useless. She didn’t even have her
shoes! How was she supposed to defend herself without…
    A glimmer of light drew her attention to the center of the
room as the massive Strigo captive flashed into view. Her dry throat strangled
her scream and a menacing smile curved his lips. How had he escaped the
Vancouver compound? She glanced at the door then looked at him, unsure if the
Levari or this man posed the bigger threat.
    Without explanation he caught her wrist and pulled her into
his arms. She wasn’t foolish enough to consider this a rescue, but anything had
to be better than waiting for the Levari to return. She clutched his broad back
and pressed her face against his chest, breathing in his scent with each ragged
breath.
    Her surroundings blurred and the floor dissolved beneath her
feet. She gasped and his arms tightened around her as the world spun out of
control.
    * * * * *
    “One hour,” the Levari guard stressed. “You have exactly one
hour with your mate.”
    Caresse nodded, trying not to let her frustration show. It
was taking more and more effort to keep the Levari Brethren out of her mind.
She wasn’t sure why Desmond had insisted on interrogating the Vladya prisoner,
but she knew better than to question Desmond’s methods. He always had a
plan—though it was often complicated and unconventional—and he always put her
safety and happiness first.
    She’d been a blood-slave when Desmond found her, a hollow
shell, hopeless and alone. He rescued her from a feeding den, putting himself
at great risk in the process. She owed him her life and her loyalty, so she
would fight with her dying breath to stay by his side.
    Listening to Desmond is how you ended up on this wretched
planet.
    The thought sent frustration and shame cascading through
her. The result might have been a disaster, but Desmond’s motivation had been
pure. Prejudice and corruption within the royal family had made Desmond’s life
a living hell. The worst of the physical abuse had ended by the time Caresse
met him, but every day she helped him combat the ghosts left behind by decades
of abuse.
    He was known as the Royal Bastard or Lady Mara’s Shame. They
quickly realized there was nowhere on Strigoia Prime that the illegitimate son
of the king’s sister could live in peace.