John had been the scrawniest of them all, and a target for Lash—God, what a pain in the ass that male had been. And meanwhile, Blay and Qhuinn had already been best friends at that point, with no hint that they’d end up together permanently as mates. Which they had. After all, some things just made sense, and the redhead with the serious, earnest disposition coupling up with the hardcore, pierced wild male was one of those equations the solution of which was just inevitable.

And they were still awesome at gaming. The two of them were both leaning over their controllers, brows down, cranked thumbs and forefingers flying as they jerked from side to side.

They should be good, though. The three of them had spent countless hours sitting together just like this, on the carpet, at the base of someone’s bed, bowls of nachos, bottles of Mountain Dew, and bags of M&M’s littering the floor. As John remembered those times now, he reflected that it was nice to think he’d gotten some of a normal childhood after all.

Sure, it had been with vampires, as a vampire—surprise! But courtesy of Blay and Qhuinn, he had found a place to belong.

And they’d stuck with him through the transitions and their matings … just as he had been with them through Lyric and Rhampage’s births.

As his buddies continued to play, he sat back and watched them. At least he knew that they were going to be okay after he was gone. They had each other and the twins.

“John?”

When Blay said his name, he shook himself back to the present and whistled in an ascending way, his way of throwing out a Yeah?

“You all right?” the male said as he put down his controller. “You’re awful quiet.”

I’m mute, remember, John signed with a smile.

“Ha-ha.”

Qhuinn was still playing—and like a boss, shifting left and right, running his avi back and forth, coordinating his finger movements perfectly to control action on the screen.

He’s really great at this, John signed.

“That’s why they made him a Brother.”

As Blay looked at his mate, his eyes shined with a shy love and an obvious affection, and John tried to think of the last time the three of them had hung out together. Months? Longer? There was always so much going on, especially for them with the young. There was also the rotation schedule that sometimes put them together, sometimes did not.

I’ve missed you guys, he signed.

Blay unscrewed the top of a fresh Mountain Dew. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it. Why don’t we do this more often?”

Life gets in the way, John signed as he refocused on the screen.

They both started cheering for the last man standing, as it were.

It was such a shame, John thought to himself, that it took death to make him appreciate the living so much.

When he’d assumed that he had an infinite amount of time in front of him, there had been a lack of urgency to catch up and connect with those who mattered. Thanks to the sense that he could do something like this on any given night, he’d fallen into a complacency that allowed the unimportant to overshadow the truly critical.

Youth wasted on the young.

Life on the living.

“Are you sure you’re okay, John?” Blay asked.

“The good news is that night is almost over,” Murhder said as he closed the door to the patient room. “They can’t make me take you back now. I won’t be able to drive you to your house in Ithaca in time.”

God, he hated the idea of letting her go.

Sarah smiled a little. “No sunlight for you.”

He didn’t like the dark circles under her eyes, or how pale she was. As she and Jane had worked in the lab, analyzing samples and consulting with Havers, the race’s longtime healer, Murhder had brought them a proper meal made to his exact specifications by Fritz. Chicken. Rice pilaf. Green beans. Rolls, and pie for dessert. Coffee.

That had been an hour ago … right around the time they had confirmed with Havers that a synthetic version of growth hormone, human in derivation, would at least theoretically work—and “work” apparently meant “might not completely kill the guinea pig.” Not that Murhder particularly cared one way or the other.

He had fought for so long: Lessers, humans if he had to, his Brothers if there was an argument. After that, he had fought Xhex’s relatives. Those scientists.

Insanity.

That last one had been the longest-lived of his foes.

Now, though, he was ready to put down his swords, his shield. He was prepared to lay himself bare to fate’s decree for him, the life-or-death outcome not anything he had any control over—and not something he was overly worried about.

It was breathtakingly easy. And calm.

A placid acceptance smoothing choppy waters.

He refocused on Sarah. She was pacing around the patient room, and though he wanted to bring her ease, he knew better than to try to quell her nervous energy.

“Havers is sourcing the somatropin from a confidential contact at a New England hospital.” Sarah put her arms around herself and continued to walked back and forth in the short space. “We should be able to get it by three in the afternoon. If you …” She stopped and cleared her throat. “Assuming you can tolerate it, and depending on what your body does, we can get a second dose for John.”

She stopped abruptly and faced him. “Are you sure you want to do this?” When Murhder nodded, she came forward with urgency. “I need you to understand the risks here. We have no idea how you’re going to react to a dose sufficient to simulate what goes on during the transition. I know you’ve arranged for a feeding beforehand, but this is—”

Murhder stepped up to her and put his finger on her lips. “Shh. We have some time now. Let’s not waste it.”

“Murhder, I’m serious. I’m worried about this. All the logical conclusions in the world sometimes make no sense—”

“There’s hot water over there.” He pointed over his shoulder. “How does a shower sound. I’ll wash your back, you wash mine?”

She leveled a stare on him. “You’re not going to talk to me about the experiment, are you?”

“Nope. My mind’s made up.”

Her face was still all intense, her eyes flashing, her lips pursed, but she let him draw her into the tiled bathroom. And then he was checking out the shower. The stall took up one whole wall and even had a bench. Handrails. Grips to steady oneself.

He couldn’t have designed it better himself.

Sliding the glass door back, he fired up the hot water and turned to his female. “I want to taste you. All of you.”

She had put on a lab coat at some point, and one by one, he unfastened the three big buttons down the front. Dropping it off her shoulders, he went for the scrubs underneath, pulling the boxy blue top up and over her head, easing the loose blue bottoms down past her thighs.

Her underwear was gone. She had a sports bra on and nothing else.

“I borrowed this,” she murmured as she snapped the tight nylon band around her breasts. “They have extra ones for the trainees in case something snaps during the drills.”

Murhder was totally distracted by the sight of her sex, but he got back to work with the undressing of her, sliding his thumbs under the sports bra and moving it up. As her breasts popped free, he couldn’t resist. He latched on to one of her nipples, licking, sucking, kissing.