Genevieve was trapped in the dark. She panted, panicked, as her heart thundered in her ears. Elspeth wasn’t in the dark—she couldn’t find her, couldn’t see even the faintest glimmer of light. She fumbled over the dirt floor, felt along rough brick for any egress. There was a door, a door—but no knob. She scrabbled at the closed door, trying to wedge her fingers into any crack to pry it open, tearing her gloves.
It hurt to swallow. The sides of her neck, her wrists, her shoulders throbbed.
Choking back a sob, she renewed her struggle as her arms trembled with effort.
She had to get the door open. She had to get out.
Then, from the dark?—
“I do admire your tenacity, Genevieve. You never give up, do you?”
Hands seized her shoulders.
Sheer terror stopped her heart.
Genevieve tried to tear herself away from the grip, away from the fangs in her neck?—
“Genevieve. Wake, dear heart.”
She opened her eyes with a violent start, recoiling away from the voice that called her.
Fear electrified her—so much so that she thought she felt the phantom hammering of her long-still heart.
Light bloomed. Kendrick replaced the glass on the lamp and sat back against the headboard.
Genevieve pressed a hand to her chest. There was no sound there.
She was not trapped in a grimy, lightless hole with her captor. She was here, with Kendrick. Her husband. She swallowed and pressed her hands to her face.
“Another nightmare?” Kendrick asked quietly.
She nodded. “It’s as though now I am finally allowing myself to be frightened of all that happened.”
“I don’t think it’s all that surprising that bad memories are surfacing, given Evangeline’s similar experience,” Kendrick said carefully.
Genevieve swallowed. “That must be it.” Apologetically, she said, “It feels so silly once I wake.”
“No, it isn’t.” Kendrick gathered her into his arms, holding her against his chest. She rested her head against his chest and sighed.
It had been nearly a week since they had circulated a five-thousand-pound reward among the inhabitants of the London Ossuary and its environs, asking for the location of or information related to the capture of Laurent. While all remained alert, the active search had been put on hold for more important matters—solidifying their new rulership in the Ossuary and addressing the Ossuary’s long-ignored issues.
“No one is trying to kill you anymore,” Genevieve pointed out. “We’re winning people over with our works projects to clean out, furnish, and make the Ossuary livable. Those who dislike our changes aren’t resorting to Laurent’s brand of malice. He’s not a threat.”
“He’s not apoliticalthreat,” Kendrick corrected her. “He’s not smart enough to hold the position of Ossuary rulership for himself. But heisa threat to vampires with less power than he, and to humans he encounters, because he covets the latitude to exert control over others with impunity. That’s what he liked so much about Rupert. And he obtains that control through pain and fear and meanness. So yes. He is a threat. And we will find him and deal with him as he deserves.”
Genevieve held back a shudder, remembering the terror. “I’ve never understood how anyone could revel in callousness to such an extent.”
“Grendel hated the sound of harps.”
Genevieve lifted her head from his shoulder. “What?”
“Grendel attacked the Hall of Heorot because he hated the sound of the harps.”
Genevieve nodded in understanding. Laurent would lash out in a whirlwind of fury, simply because what they stood for enraged him.
She just wished the dreams and the scraps of memory from her time before her death would stop. Her grip tightened on Kendrick.
“Would a kiss help?” he asked in a voice like smoke.
