Hugh snorted. “There’s a lot of that going around.”

“She told me everything.” Julian flicked his gaze toward Delaney before continuing. He gestured to her with his glass. “She’s got it out for you.”

Delaney waved her hand. “Tell me something I don’t know about Psycho Barbie.”

“It’s handled,” Hugh said.

Julian nodded. “And very well if the two of you are still a thing. I guess it also explains why you’re here.”

“What do you mean?” Delaney asked.

“I mean you two must have had a real heart to heart and dished all your secrets. My brother doesn’t share his true nature with the women he dates.” Julian fluttered his lashes. “The fact that he did that with you can only mean it’s love.”

“Julian—”

“It’s too late to protest, brother dear.” He tipped his head at Delaney. “You can’t pretend otherwise when you’ve got this one wearing your dead wife’s jewelry, now can you?”

Delaney’s hand flew to the dragonfly. A chill ran through her, more because Hugh had lied to her—his mother’s, indeed—than because of who it actually belonged to. Although that was a little creepy too. “This was your wife’s?”

Hugh nodded. “Yes. I—”

“So much for honesty.” If the piece weren’t so valuable, she would have ripped it off and thrown it at him.

“I was going to tell you when we got home. There’s more to the story, it’s just not a conversation I want to have here.”

Julian held his hands up. “Sorry about that. I figured if she knew you were a vampire, you’d told her all about Juliette too.”

Delaney stared at Julian. “Why? What else is there to tell?”

“Say a word, Julian, and I will tear your throat out,” Hugh snarled.

Julian refilled his glass then stood. He lifted the glass toward Delaney. “I’ll just leave you to it then.” And walked off.

Hugh was seething. Her anger over news of the dragonfly’s true owner paled in comparison to whatever was going on with him. He hadn’t been this enraged even when she’d confessed she wasn’t who he thought she was. She wanted to touch him, to reassure him that whatever it was, it couldn’t be that bad, but contact seemed like the last thing he’d welcome.

“Let’s go home,” she said quietly.

He continued staring after his brother, the muscles in his jaw tensing.

She took a breath. And put her hand on his leg. “Hugh.”

Finally, he turned to her, and the luminescent anger in his eyes faded. He blinked once.

“Whatever it is,” she assured him, “it’s okay. Let’s go home and talk about it.”

Still no response.

“Or not.” She pulled her hand back.

He grasped her wrist. His gaze dropped to the dragonfly around her neck, and pain took the place of anger in his eyes. “I killed her. I’m the reason she’s dead.”

She blinked. “You killed your wife.”

He nodded.

A thousand scenarios played out in her head, all of them starring Hugh as the out-of-control vampire and his late wife as the victim. She shivered. She couldn’t really buy Hugh as a brutal killer, but she’d only known him a few days. Maybe he was a vampire Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. “You need to explain exactly what you mean by that.”

Because staying here in Nocturne Falls no longer sounded like the best possible option. Even compared to Rastinelli and his gun.

He let her hand go and dropped his head into his hands. “I tried to save her from the plague.”

“You mean by turning her into a vampire?”

He nodded. “I tried. She…didn’t make it. The turning killed her.”

More scenarios, this time Hugh clamping down on an unknown woman’s neck and draining her until she died. Another tremor ran through Delaney.

Hugh turned his head to see her. “You’re afraid of me now.”

“No, I—”

“It’s not a question. I can hear your heart pounding. The increase in your breathing.” He moved away from her a few inches. “I would never hurt you, Delaney. Never.”

Her heart broke a little for him. She went after him, sliding toward him on the sofa to close the gap he’d created. “I know.”

And the truth was, she believed that. “How did the turning kill her? Did you…drink too much from her?”

His brow furrowed. “You think I…no, that’s not how it works. She just didn’t survive the process.”

She blew out the breath she’d been holding. “Then you didn’t really kill her.”

He stared at her. “If it wasn’t for my insistence, she never would have attempted the turning. I’m the reason and the cause of why she died.”

“Hugh.” She shook her head and put her hand on his shoulder. “The plague took your parents. What makes you think it wouldn’t have taken her too?”

He shifted his gaze to the floor. “She could have survived it.”

She took her hand off his shoulder. “And maybe she wouldn’t have. It’s been nearly four hundred years. You can’t let this guilt color the rest of your life.”

That brought his gaze back to her. “That’s easy to say, but what if I kill another woman? I cannot live with that.” His mouth set in a hard line. “I will not.”