“No, you are.”

They both laughed. Then she shook her head. “You know, you’re probably right.”

Trez deliberately put his fingers to the bite mark that she’d licked closed. “About what? The fact that you can take my vein anytime you want?”

“I need to return the favor, by the way,” she drawled. “You didn’t feed from me. We got distracted.”

“In the best sense of the word. And I’d still be going down on you right now if I could.”

His female let out a bark and then a snort. After which she clamped both hands over her mouth.

“Now why you gotta do that?” he asked. “You don’t need to be quiet in this house.”

“I have the worst laugh in the world.”

Trez thought back to the time they’d spent together up at Rehv’s Great Camp, on the lake near Saddleback Mountain, the two of them huddled in an old Victorian four-poster bed, a homemade quilt pulled up to their chins, quiet conversation, whispers of love, and a glimpse of eternity uniting them whether they were joined sexually or not.

He had told silly jokes. And she had laughed.

Stolen moments… on a timeline that had been far too short.

“I love your laugh,” he said.

“You don’t have to be charming.” She walked over to where he was sitting at the table and put her arms around his shoulders. “You’ve got me already.”

Trez put his hands on her hips. “And I want to keep you.”

Her lovely eyes blinked. “I believe you do.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” God, that was all he wanted to do. “Why wouldn’t anyone.”

His female stroked his face. Then in a hoarse voice, she whispered, “That’s not a rhetorical question to someone who was abandoned by her birth mahmen and sire.”

Trez hugged her close. He’d never thought of the Chosen like that, but he supposed it was true. They had no true parents. They were bred to serve, given no choice in the matter—in spite of their name—and expected to suck it up if they didn’t like their role in the species. There was no love. There was only duty.

“I am so sorry,” he said with emotion.

They embraced and held each other for a long time. And he told her he loved her in his mind because he briefly lost his voice.

When she pulled back, she cleared her throat. “Where were we?”

“Just where I want to be,” he murmured.

She smiled. “Oh, right. My phone. Enzo and iAm. You do have a point—and I don’t know why I’m being so stubborn about getting a new burner. I didn’t pay a lot for it, and yet I resent like hell that I have to spend even a dime to replace the thing. And that’s just stupid.”

“So we’re going to Verizon.” He clapped his hands together in triumph. “Hot damn—”

“I have another phone.”

She walked over to her purse, the one she had lost hold of at the club. Opening the top, she glanced in and glanced up again. “You know, it’s really empty in here without a wallet. Thank God I’m not a human with a driver’s license to lose or an identity to steal, huh.”

His female reached in. Unzipped a pocket. And withdrew a cell phone.

As she held it in her hand, she stared at the thing, seeming to reacquaint herself with her own possession. “I haven’t fired this up since I left. It’s out of juice, though, I’ll bet—yeah, no juice.”

“We have cords.” He got up and started looking in drawers. “Fritz always has something of everything in the houses he kits out—found ’em. What kind is it?”

“A Samsung.” She came over and looked down at the various rolled black cords, all ready to use, the packaging removed. “Galaxy. But not the super-new one.”

“Thank God it isn’t an iAnything.”

“Why?”

“Vishous doesn’t like them. And given that he did the security system in this house, he would never have left anything like that behind in any drawer. He would have checked to make sure.”

“Is that a Brother?” she asked. “Vishous, I mean?”

“You remember him,” he said with distraction as he started to try various options in the butt of her phone.

“Oh, was he at the club the night before last?”

“I got it. This fits.” Stretching the AC/DC plug to the wall, he went to—

“Wait,” she said as she stopped him.

* * *

As Therese put her hand on Trez’s arm, her heart was pounding. But come on, she told herself. It was crazy not to use her old phone. If she was trying to save money to move out of that rooming house, then getting another one was a waste if this was perfectly usable.

“Sorry,” she said. “I’m just being weird.”

“Are you afraid they’ve called?” His voice was low. “Your parents, I mean.”

“No.” Yes. “I mean, if they did, it’s fine.”

The initial charging took quickly, and as she waited, she found herself wishing she weren’t so cheap. She also tried to decide what would be harder. If they had phoned… or if they hadn’t.

“Turn-on time,” she muttered.

Initialing the unit, she waited for it to fire up, and then—

There was no reason to enter her password. Her notifications flashed on the screen immediately.

And all she could do was stare at them.

“My brother,” she heard herself say. “He’s, ah, he’s called.”

“Recently?”

“Seven times. And yes… three nights ago was the last one.”

“Are you going to call him back?”

Therese shook her head, but not in response to the question. She was trying to focus through her emotions to remember what the hell her password was. Her birth date—yes, she’d used that as her password because she got so sick and tired of remembering word-and-number combinations. Entering it, she got into the phone proper.

Her eyes watered as she looked through everything. There were texts, missed phone calls, other voice mail messages—not just from her brother.

It was all tangible evidence that her old life had continued without her. And the fact that none of the communications except for Gareth’s calls were recent made her feel like she’d died and was witnessing people move on. Cousins, friends, professional contacts. Those had all stopped reaching out after a short while. Her brother had persisted, however.

Not texts, either. Calls.

He was a texter. Or had been. The only time he ever called her was for emergencies: Accidents, car or person. Sicknesses, although with vampires that was rare. House problems that were messy, like burst pipes or blown electrical fuses that were smoking.

Or deaths.

Funny, Therese had heard people talk about seminal moments before, and she had always pictured them in the context of history. History was important, and involved many people—and sometimes the entire race: Like the raids of a couple of summers ago. The democratic election of Wrath, son of Wrath. The birth of Wrath’s son, Wrath. All of those events were seminal in that they were origins of great change and the kinds of things that defined a given generation.