The second he’d pulled in his first breath, he’d realized that it didn’t matter if she was part monster. She was Emma, the woman he loved. He knew firsthand what it was like to carry a dark thing inside of him that he was ashamed for anyone else to see. But Emma had seen it and fallen for him regardless. She was brave and beautiful and amazing, and there was no way he was going to let what had just happened change the way he felt.

So she’d killed some people. She’d only used her power against Little Francis and his men once it was a matter of survival. She’d also saved a hell of a lot of lives. Now it was time for someone to save hers.

“What are you doing, man?” Jace asked when he scooped Emma into his arms and started for the door. “We shouldn’t move her. She needs an ambulance. You both need—”

“No. No doctors,” Sam said. “They won’t be able to help her.”

“But she’s full of venom. She needs antivenom, and I used the last of it on—”

“The antivenom poisons her.” Andre turned back to Sam and Jace. “It doesn’t help. She has to feed in order to get the Hamma out of her system.”

“Then let her suck the life out of Francis.” Jace motioned to where their cousin still lay motionless on the floor. “You almost died, Andre, and what Emma does takes years off of people’s lives. Sometimes it even—”

“I know, Jace. We’ve found another way for her to feed, a way that doesn’t seem to do any damage.”

“What? But she—”

“Let them go, Jace. I can’t see Andre anymore, and I’d like the same to be true for Emma.” Sam’s fear for her sister was clear in her voice. “Take care of her, Andre. ... I’m afraid the Hamma’s going to kill her.”

“It won’t.” Andre kicked open the door and headed out into the hall. He had to find someplace private, safe. The family apartments on either side of the hall would be perfect. Sure, the hallway was full of men stunned out of their minds and twitching on the floor, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.

He stepped over a lifeless-looking Dr. Finch—half hoping Jace had killed the bastard—and into a room with a queen-sized bed and its own bathroom. Andre locked the door behind them and hurried into the bath, breathing a sigh of relief when he saw the giant tub dominating one corner of the room. Exactly what he was looking for.

Emma’s arms were covered with gold dust from the sparking. She was beginning to look like a life-sized Academy Award. He had to get the Hamma residue off her skin. Hopefully that would help her body flush out the toxin. A bath and some food and she’d be fine. She had to be fine.

Emma moaned softly and her eyelashes fluttered as he set her down on the toilet seat and reached over to start the water.

“Emma? Are you awake? Can you hear me?” he asked, his heart racing when she moaned again and wrapped her limp arms around his neck.

“Bad ... so bad.” She slumped against his shoulder as if she lacked the strength to hold up her head. Which she probably did. He’d never seen anyone spark so bright. Most people would have died before they processed this much Hamma.

“It’s okay. You’re going to feel better in a few minutes,” Andre promised, willing himself to believe his own words.

He swiftly and efficiently stripped away Emma’s clothes—shocked to see her bullet wound had completely healed—and lifted her again, settling her into the bathwater. She slid down, resting her head against the sloped side of the tub, trailing her fingers through the water lapping softly around her thighs.

Andre looked down, momentarily frozen by the sight of the woman he loved completely nude for the first time. God, she was so beautiful, pale and smooth and shimmering like some sort of goddess, too gorgeous to be real, too perfect to touch. Her teacupsized breasts turned up toward the ceiling, pale nipples pulled tight in the air-conditioned room. She was smaller than any woman he’d been with in recent memory, but her tits made him crazy. He was dying to kiss along that achingly soft skin, to take one pink tip in his mouth and then the other, to suck and nibble until she writhed beneath him, begging him to push inside her.

“Yes. Please ...”

Andre’s eyes flew to meet Emma’s, shocked to find her watching him with the hint of a smile on her tired face and desire in her honey-colored eyes. He hadn’t really expected what they were about to do to be particularly pleasurable for either of them. He’d assumed he’d be too afraid for Emma, and Emma ... well, he’d assumed she was too far gone to feel much of anything except the desire to live. The fact that she could still want him—that she could reach for him with her trembling arms—blew him away.

His throat clenched tight and his hands shook as he stripped off his shirt and pants and made quick work of the underwear Emma had teased him about earlier in the day. As he eased into the water beside her, pulling her into his arms, he prayed she’d be making fun of him again soon. He wanted to spend the rest of their lives together fighting over stupid things like boxers versus briefs, making love and memories that had nothing to do with death.

But not quite hard enough ...

“Don’t be scared of me,” she whispered, laying her hands gently on top of his, sighing when he smoothed his palms up her ribs to hover just beneath her breasts.

“I’m not. I love you.” His pressed a soft kiss to her throat, his lips lingering to feel her pulse speed beneath her skin.

“Even after . . . what you saw?”

“It doesn’t matter.” He reached for the soap in the dish. “Now, let’s get you cleaned up.”

“Are you sure? It doesn’t disgust you?” Emma sucked in a breath as Andre’s soapy hands ran up and down her arms before moving back to her ribs, teasing closer and closer to where her nipples ached for his touch.

“It scared me at first,” he said, his voice strong and steady, even when he captured her nipples in his soapy hands and tugged. Slick skin slipped through his fingers, but he found her sensitive flesh again and again, rolling and plucking and teasing until her head fell back onto his shoulder with a moan. “But you could never disgust me. Ever.”

Emma arched, rubbing her bottom against where Andre was harder, hotter, before lifting one leg from the water and watching him soap her up from thigh to toe. “But I—”

“You didn’t choose to carry that thing inside you, and you’ve got nothing to be ashamed of. Killing people who are trying to kill you is self-defense.” He finished with one leg and urged her to lift the other. As she shifted and her thighs brushed together, Emma gasped aloud. She was so wet, past ready to have Andre inside her. “That thing is like a cancer. But we’re going to send it into remission.”

“Yes.” Emma’s fingers dug into the thick muscles of Andre’s arms as he lifted his hips, carrying her completely out of the water, giving him access to the last bit of un-soaped Emma.

His touch was light, a whisper between her legs, teasing in and out of her swollen folds, making her even slicker before he dropped his hips and water rushed over her thighs. Emma moaned in protest, but before she could complete the sound, he’d dropped the soap back in the dish and lifted her again. His strong hands claimed a thigh each and spread her wide, lifting her knees up and out, baring her to him in a way that was almost lewd ... and entirely arousing.

“You have the most beautiful pussy.” His voice was thick and rough, his breath hot against her neck as he brushed his thumbs down her outer lips, pulling them gently apart, baring the slick, pink cleft of her core to his touch. His finger tapped softly against her swollen clit—once, twice—making her breath hitch and things low in her body tighten. “After we’re finished here, I’m going to take you into the bed in the next room and taste you. I want to—”

“I want you. Now,” Emma said, a shudder running through her entire body as Andre shifted his hips and his cock sprung up between her legs.

He was so hard that little veins stood out along the length of him, turning his shaft nearly purple. The sight of him, so engorged and ready, his thickness nestled against where she was slick and wet, made her hotter than she would have dreamed possible. She’d nearly died today. Several times. But with Andre so close—his warm skin pressed to hers, the safety of his body cradling her own—that didn’t seem to matter. She wanted him for reasons that had nothing to do with needing to purge the Hamma from her system.

“You want me?” His fingers teased through her swollen flesh again, then moved to circle her clit, drawing a raw sound of need from her throat.

“Yes. Fuck me, please, just—” Emma cried out as Andre reached down and guided his cock inside her. He pushed all the way to the end of her body, filling her in a different way than it had the other times they’d made love. The tip of his cock bumped against a new place, a bundle of nerves that sent a jolt of electricity surging through her. Emma’s back arched and her breasts thrust toward the ceiling.

She gasped, and her breath rushed out. “I thought the G-spot was a myth.”

“That’s okay. I thought aura demons were a myth,” Andre whispered into her ear as he pulled back until only the tip of him remained inside her heat. “We’ve both been mistaken once or twice today.”

Something in his voice made her think of the memory she’d seen in his mind, the one of him watching her sneak away from Boudreaux’s. She tensed, holding herself away from him when he tried to move. “I’m sorry I lied to you again. I just wanted to try to fix things. I didn’t want you to have to hurt anyone, especially your family. I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s over. Just make sure it never happens again.”

“Never. I promise.”

“Good.” He shoved inside her again, making her call his name. The blue light erupted a few seconds later, bursting from their straining bodies, setting the room on fire. Together, they burned. Andre drove in and out, in and out, while his fingers stayed busy at her clit, flying back and forth with perfect, gentle pressure until the tension inside her could no longer be contained by flesh and blood.

Emma came with a sound—half sob, half cry of victory. The bliss ripped through her body, shredding her to pieces and then putting her back together again, re-forming her as a being full of beauty and pleasure. Within her, the darkness twisted and thrashed, fighting to stay wakeful, watchful, but it was no match for the drugging effects of satisfaction and love. She sensed the dark craving lessen, the way it did after a feeding. She knew the second it lay down and went to sleep, the predator banished for a time by an act of celebration rather than violence.

Her entire body went limp with relief. It was over. It really was. The danger had passed and the rebuilding of their lives could begin. Emma floated on the tide of the aftermath of what Andre did to her, smiling and relaxed, filled with sensations of such pure well-being that even Andre’s sudden shout couldn’t faze her.

“Shit!” Andre cursed as he reached for the faucet with his foot, shoving the lever into the “off” position. They’d forgotten about the running water, and now it overflowed, streaming down the side of the mammoth tub to pool on the already flooded floor.

“Oops,” Emma said, laughing softly despite herself.

So much had happened, so much horror had been packed into the past few hours. But even knowing there were still more than a dozen bodies to be cleaned up and disposed of couldn’t banish her grin. She was too happy, too grateful to have been given another chance with Andre, another chance to—

“Shit!” She vaulted into a seated position, splashing more water out of the tub.

“What’s wrong? Where—”

“The book.” Emma rose to her feet, water streaming down her body, and reached for one of the towels hanging on the wall. “The spell book was empty. The pages were blank.”

“Do you think Ginger still has it?” Andre asked, flipping open the drain before grabbing a towel of his own, his swift movement testimony to how seriously he was taking all things aura demon. “Do you think she realized Francis was up to something and gave him a book filled with blank pages on purpose?”

“Maybe. Hopefully. But we need to get in touch with her right away.”

“At least Mikey’s not involved in this. If she’s with him, she’s safe. At least ... safe from normal danger.”

“Right. Normal danger. Like we’ve got any of that going on around here.” Emma frowned down at her and Andre’s clothes, which floated on the flooded floor. “We’re going to need something to wear.”

Andre wrapped his towel around his waist and opened the bathroom door. “I’ve got a few pairs of gym clothes down in the locker room. The pants will be huge on you, but—”

“Andre! Emma! Open the fucking door!” It didn’t sound like the first time Jace had asked, but Emma couldn’t remember hearing him call out before.

That bathroom door must have been thicker than it looked, or at least pretty damned soundproof, which was good news. The last thing she wanted was for her sister and her husband and half the stunned criminals outside to have heard her screaming Andre’s name midorgasm. Once the dust settled, she and Andre were going to find someplace completely private, where they could be with each other purely for pleasure’s sake, without supernatural intrigue.

“We’re coming. Hold on.” Andre was at the door a second later but paused before opening it, making sure Emma was wrapped up in her own towel before flipping the locks.

“What the fuck? Why did you lock the door, and where’s ...” Jace trailed off as his eyes landed on Emma and then just as quickly looked away. “Oh. Okay. So she’s better. Good.”

“She’s better? Let me in.” Sam pushed around her husband, her eyes once again a deep brown. “Emma? Are you in here?”

“I’m right here. And I’m fine.”

Sam scanned the area slightly to Emma’s right with a smile. “I can’t see you anymore. Thank god.”

“Don’t go thanking anyone just yet,” Andre said. “That spell book Francis wanted is still out there. The book in Emma’s purse was filled with blank pages.”

“We think Ginger has it, but we can’t be sure,” Emma said.

“She and Mikey are holed up together somewhere upstate.” Andre began to pace the narrow stretch of carpet between the queen-sized bed and the wall. “Near wherever the kidnappers were ordered to take Ginger.”

“Kidnappers?” Sam asked.

“Francis wanted to send all the people loyal to his father on a wild-goose chase. So he had a couple of his new Death Ministry allies kidnap Ginger.” Emma’s eyes met Andre’s, offering silent comfort for the death of the uncle he loved. “He was planning to use Ginger as a bargaining tool to convince me to work a demon spell.”

“I say we call Mikey and see if he can get her to cough up the missing pages.” Andre crossed to the phone on the wall.

“Are you sure it’s a good idea to call Mikey?” Jace asked. “Why is he holding Ginger there if he’s not in on this? For all we know, he could be waiting for orders from Francis to torture her until Emma cooperates.”

“I don’t think so, but listen in and we’ll see how he sounds.” Andre punched in a few numbers and hit the speaker button, filling the room with tinny ringing. “My gut tells me Mikey’s trying to help. He said Ginger was really shaken up. He was afraid she’d have some kind of panic attack if he brought her back to the—”

“Hello? Who is this?” The man who answered wasn’t Mikey. Even Emma, who’d spoken with Andre’s other cousin only a few times, knew that much.

But the voice was still familiar, comforting.

“Who’s this?” Andre asked, on the defensive. “Where’s Michael Conti?”

The man on the other end of the line took a breath and cleared his throat. Even before he spoke again, the sounds were enough for Emma to make a positive ID. “Mr. Conti gave me his phone and asked me to answer calls from New York City. My name is Father Paul Whitaker. I’m a friend of Emma Quinn’s. I was told she was—”

“Father Paul. I’m here. It’s me. Emma,” she said, tears pricking at the backs of her eyes. It was so good to hear his voice, so strange, but somehow not as surprising as it should have been. After all, how many times today had she wished she could talk to him—four or five at the very least? Father Paul had told her once that wishes were like prayers, which was why it was so important to be careful what you wished for.

“Emma, I had a feeling we’d speak soon. You’ve been in my prayers. I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you, too.” She wanted to say she was sorry, but her lips wouldn’t form the words. Not here, not now. She wanted them to be alone; she wanted to look into his eyes and know that he understood just how much she regretted going against his advice.

“It’s good to hear your voice, but sadly . . . there’s been some trouble.” Father Paul cleared his throat again, and Emma would have sworn she could feel the pain in that small sound. “There’s a woman here. Ginger Spatz?”

“Yes, she’s my roommate,” Emma said, shocked to hear Ginger’s name. How had Ginger and Mikey ended up at Father Paul’s?

“She said she was a friend of yours. ...”

“What’s wrong? What happened?” Emma clutched at the towel wrapped around her chest.

“I think she may have read one of the grimoire’s spells aloud,” he said, his fear clear in his voice. “There’s no other explanation for how she came to be here. She’s nearly insensible, but Michael says she insisted on breaking through the gate and driving onto our private property. She said she was going to the place where it begins. I think she meant the caves.”

“Caves?” Andre asked. “Sorry, but I—”

“The caves where our parents first summoned the aura demons aren’t far from where Emma grew up. Her caretaker bought the land to keep demon worshippers away,” Sam said. “But why would Ginger want to go to the caves, Father?”

“If she read the grimoire aloud . . . she could have invited a demonic possession.” Father Paul’s grim words sent a shiver through the room. “She could be acting under the aura demons’ compulsion. I’ve given her a sedative, and she’s resting in the guest room now. Michael is watching her sleep, but I—”

“We’ll have people up there to help as soon as we can,” Jace said.

“Thank you,” Father Paul said. “I’ll be waiting, and Emma ... I . . . I should have destroyed the book the day I found it.”

“No, I shouldn’t have stolen it. I’m sorry.” Emma forced back the tears in her eyes.

“See you soon.” Father Paul hung up, and the wall phone shut off with a loud beep that echoed through the silent room.

Jace was the first to break the silence. “Much as I hate to say it, I think I’m the smart choice to stay here and clean up the mess. I have a few freelance hunter friends I can call.” He turned to Andre. “If you’re feeling up to it, you—”

“I’m up to it. I’ll drive Sam and Emma upstate.” Andre squeezed her hand. “Just let us run downstairs and grab some clothes.”

“I’ll meet you in the garage in ten minutes,” Sam said. “It’s going to be fine. We’ll get Ginger and help her through this, and everything will be fine.”

Emma held on to Sam’s comforting words as she and Andre hurried out into the hall, stepping over half a dozen bodies to get to the elevator.

“Your sister’s an amazing shot. Especially for someone who can’t see.”

“She probably could see those guys,” Emma said as they stepped into the elevator and pushed the first-floor button. “I’m imagining they’re getting ready to transition to a pretty miserable time in their lives. Will Jace and his friends let them live?”

“I don’t know, and I don’t really care.” Andre pulled her close. “This isn’t your fault, you know.”

“Then whose fault is it?” The door dinged open, and she moved out into the deserted hall, bound for the gymnasium. Andre stopped her with a hand on her elbow. She turned, giving in to the urge to lean into him, to wrap her arms around his waist and lay her cheek on his bare chest. He felt so good, even now, even knowing another mess was waiting for them in the New York countryside.

“It’s just . . . what happened. And we’ll deal with it. Me and you.”

“So we’re me and you?” she asked, knowing they were wasting time but unable to help herself. “Officially?”

“As official as we can get until I get a ring on your finger.”

Emma tilted her head back, searching his face. “A ring? Like a wedding ring? You aren’t serious.”

“I am. I’m old.” He shrugged and grinned that dimple-popping grin that made him look about fifteen. “Old guys like to get married. Especially old guys who have finally kicked a decade of addiction.”

“You think ... you really think—”

“I don’t think. I know.” The grin faded, replaced by a look that made Emma’s breath catch. “I don’t want anyone but you. If you don’t like that, then you should have fallen in love with someone younger.”

Emma smiled, her heart beating so fast it felt like the Hamma had hold of her again. But it wasn’t drugs. It was just Andre . . . and the amazing way he made her feel. “Yeah. I guess I should have. Too late now.”

“Guess so,” he said, taking her hand and leading her down the hall.

“But we’re not having babies until I’m at least thirty.”

“I don’t know. We didn’t use a condom a couple of times. . . .”

“The timing’s off. No way it could have happened.”

“Good.” Andre winked over his shoulder. “I want to do everything with you, but kids are going to have to wait. I need at least half a dozen years of fucking you without worrying about little eyes and ears.”

Emma followed him into the men’s locker room, too full to know what to say. She knew only that she loved this man, that the thought of sharing her life with him made her happy even in the midst of tragedy, hopeful in times of crisis. He was everything she’d never dared hope for and more.

He stopped in front of a locker and spun the combination, pulling out clothes and shoes. She took the sweatpants and T-shirt he offered, standing on tiptoe to press a soft kiss to his cheek. “I love you.”

“Love you, too.” His hand brushed her cheek, touching her like she was something to be treasured, someone worthy of love and goodness. For the first time in her life, Emma believed he might be right, and she was going to prove it by cleaning up the rest of the mess she’d made. With Andre’s help.

“You ready?” Andre asked a few minutes later, once they were both dressed.

“I am.” And she was. Ready for anything, so long as she had this man by her side.