“I helped Kohana most of the day. I—” With an irritated sigh that she realized sounded a bit like the master of the house, she flopped into one of the chairs. “There, I’m sitting. Now will you please tell me how the children are doing? Fledglings, whatever. I will call them cows, chickens, trolls or gnats if it will get someone to tell me something.”

Thomas’s amusement deepened, though it was laced with some bolstering sympathy. “They’re frightened, of course, but they’re settling in. Each one took a pint of blood. Their facilities are actually an improvement on what they had. He’s set up their cells like small cabins, with a private walled area for sleeping. They’re locked into a wheel formation with a large center area where each one can get out and move around more. In fact, when it’s not feeding time, all the cell doors can be opened and they can share that communal area with one another, going back to those shelters when they want their own privacy.”

“And it’s secure.”

He nodded. “Remember, Danny lent her not-inconsiderable funds to help him do this. The materials weren’t hard for him to get, this close to the U.S. mainland. Probably easier than it is to get things back at the station.”

“Is there anything for them to do?” They liked it when she read to them, but they hadn’t had much luck with giving them books or toys, except for Jeremiah’s bear. They tended to destroy them.

“The communal area is a natural area. Large stones, trees, even a small pond.” Thomas sat down in the chair across from her and took her hands. “They’re safe and cared for, Elisa. He may grumble, but he’s lived up to everything Lady Daniela said he would do so far. You can trust him.”

She nodded, then bit her lip. “Can I really? Thomas . . . what is he allowed to do to me?”

She couldn’t put it plainer than that, though she didn’t want to sound like a sniveling ninny. His brow creased in concern. Of a sudden, there was a look in his eye that made him seem far less like a mild, unassuming monk. “Why do you ask, Elisa? Has something happened?”

Yes. “No.” She shook her head. “I know how vampires are, Thomas. They’re so different about bedroom things, and I know sometimes they just . . . ooze that feeling, right? They tease us poor humans as an afterthought. It’s like breathing to them. Even Danny, she was always sliding a hand along my neck, or stroking my hair . . .”

“So he hasn’t forced you to do anything.”

Except make her confront the disturbing fact that her body hadn’t died with Willis. She hadn’t had enough time with him, such that his memory could be swept aside by a vampire with a clever mouth.

That was the crux of it. She was ashamed. Knowing that, she shook her head. As Thomas’s shoulders eased, she added, “But can I say no to him, if he wants something like that from me? Even if I . . . I mean, they know how to make you feel and want things that a person shouldn’t. I’m sorry; I don’t mean like you, you being a monk and all. And the thing about Danny, I don’t know how you feel about that.”

“I’m a man, same as any other,” Thomas assured her with a wry smile. “While Lady Lyssa doesn’t require me to serve her carnal needs, as vampires usually do from their servants, it doesn’t mean she reins in her considerable ability to make me feel and want things I shouldn’t. I take it as a continuing, lifelong test of my faith to God, Heaven help me.”

She smiled, because his eyes were twinkling. But then he sobered, obviously mulling it over. “It’s difficult to say, Elisa. I know that doesn’t reassure you. I can tell you with complete certainty that Danny would not send you into anyone’s keeping she didn’t trust implicitly. But a vampire has a different notion of what’s permissible to do to a servant, even a second mark like yourself. She certainly wouldn’t countenance any violence toward you, or having you forced against your will.

“There are vampires who feed on human fear and torture.” His eyes darkened. “But there are vampires, like Lady Danny and my lady, who are a different turn on that dial. What intrigues them are those doors inside a human being that we ourselves have not opened, through fear of our own desires, or societal constraints. Sometimes we don’t realize the door is there, but their gift—and our curse—is how clearly they see it.”

She thought of Mal, of how he’d looked up at her after he’d had his mouth on her foot, as if he could see everything, all the tangle of emotions and physical responses, a tapestry as complex as the interwoven branches above his bed. He likely could see the light that connected and threaded all of her lines, just like the lights of the island she’d seen in her dream.

“It’s cruel, when they do that,” she said low, with great feeling. “They’re not doing it for love. Or any real caring. It’s like we’re puzzle boxes, and they like figuring out how the box opens. They feed off of what spills out after they open it, but then they don’t care that they’ve left that door open, everything private out there, like being naked during a sandstorm. Blast the skin right off you.”

“Yes, sometimes it feels that way.” A grim smile touched the monk’s lips. “But I think those feelings that spill out somehow nourish their hearts and souls, not just their ego or lust. It doesn’t work that way for all of them, but some. Mal strikes me as a male who does things for very specific reasons. Unlike most vampires, he is driven by an intuition that taps into the very earth. If he’s turned his attention to you, Elisa, I expect there’s a good reason for it.”

“So he feels I’m his project. Like the children.”

“I think we all know, at this point, you both go together. Mal surely knows that.” He straightened, tapped the top of her hand. “I’d say trust Danny’s faith that he won’t do anything to you personally that you can’t bear, and in fact it may just make things better. Don’t be afraid to stand up for who and what you are, though. Vampires like ours respect that. The ones that don’t . . . Well, you’re not with one of those, I promise. No matter how he’s acted thus far. And you can always call Danny and talk to her if you’re truly concerned.”

Not likely. She didn’t want Danny worrying about her at all, because that might win her a ticket back even faster than Mal wanted it to happen. She gave him a studied look. “You’re talking like you’re leaving.”

“I am. In a few hours.” He nodded toward his bag. She thought he hadn’t unpacked, because of how few belongings he had, but she saw everything was neatly folded in the top.

“You were supposed to stay three days.”

“I know, but my lady needs me back on some business right away. The supply plane comes about once every two weeks, though.”

As he examined his teacup in such a deliberately casual way, light dawned. “With your plane gone, I get that much longer with the fledglings.”

“Why, Elisa, that sounds very manipulative and deceitful. My motives are purely to serve my lady, as always. It’s unfortunate that she has an emergency that requires my immediate attendance.”

So there was a reason Mal was teaching her the rules tomorrow. Perhaps that was why he’d been so surly about it, though she had a feeling he didn’t need much of an excuse. Regardless, she was staying longer. That was the most important thing.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “I mean that. But another part of me . . . I don’t want you to leave.”

“I know.” Rising, he drew her up into a hug. She leaned into his strength, tried not to cling, but it was hard. Thomas spoke into her hair, cupping the back of her skull with a reassuring hand. “From what I’ve seen, you’re a very strong young woman. You’ll be fine here. Just have faith. That’s all any of us can do.”

As she left his room and headed back to her own, she realized he hadn’t been terribly comforting, at least on the issue of Mal’s intentions. Well, she could hardly fault him. In the vampire world, human fate could be tossed around like a child’s marbles and yet they were supposed to keep rolling along. Until the nicks and dings made it impossible to maintain a straight line. Of course, far as she could tell, all life was like that, with or without vampires to muck it up.

She slowed as she approached her room. Her shoes were there, neatly placed side by side in the hallway. At first, she assumed Malachi had sent them with Kohana, but two things suggested otherwise. One was that one of his carved figures, the cougar, was placed in the cup of one sneaker. The other was that the white canvas had been drawn upon, each shoe now bearing a whimsical depiction of the female cougar’s head, her eyes molten gold.

He was certainly a curious vampire. Still, picking up the shoes and looking at them, she couldn’t help but feel like he’d given her a totem, a protection symbol. An actual reassurance, though she would have been hard put to explain why she felt that way. Hugging the shoes to her chest, she slipped into her room, hoping that tomorrow she’d get to see her children.

Mal lay in his bed, staring up at that starry canopy, the glitter of the crystals as they turned. The magic that traced through those branches twined around him, as if he lay inside a living thing. It drew on his life energy each day as he slept, bolstering the protections and sorcery that had created this sanctuary. Even though he’d learned to moderate its effect on him, he was well aware of the kind of journey Elisa had taken in her dreams. There’d been peace and contentment on her face as she slept, her mouth eased, her body loose and relaxed. In his bed.

Any male, let alone a male vampire, would feel a ripple of lust at such a picture. He imagined her again, sitting in the center of the mattress with nothing but a tiger’s pelt wrapped around her bare shoulders. Her curly hair would be loose and rumpled, her mouth swollen from kisses and other uses.

It had been a long, long time since he’d gone to the mainland. When Lady Resa had been a regular visitor, years ago, she’d always brought her curvy servant Magdalena with her, and shared her with Mal. He could have his fill of both women, take them countless times over the few days they stayed. Though a vampire’s libido could recharge within hours, he’d always been sated enough that he didn’t give such needs too much attention between their visits. But then it became clear he was replaying history. Lady Resa viewed him the same way his sire, Lady Diana, had. Even now, the dulled hurt of the realization made something in his gut churn.