Before Charlotte could reply, Maksim arrived. On his heels were all three of the triplets, Mataias and his brothers Lojos and Tomas. Tariq raised his eyebrow when he saw Tomas, and quickly scanned him for wounds. He had been injured in the last battle and had been put in the earth to heal. Just two weeks had passed, and that wasn’t enough time given the severity of the injuries to the Carpathian hunter.

Tomas sent him a cocky grin, the four hunters spreading out behind him, facing Fridrick’s men. Another hunter emerged from the shadows. Tariq hadn’t seen Dragomir Kozul since they had battled together in Russia. The centuries hadn’t been so kind to him. Few Carpathians scarred, but Dragomir looked like a road map of scars. His face and neck bore tattoos that had been carved into his skin, rather than inked. His eyes were pure gold. Unusual, almost antiqued gold. A giant of a man, taller and more muscular than most Carpathian males, he looked fit, yet each natural line was carved deep, as if he was so world-weary, he had forgotten how to express any emotion, even when among humans.

Two more hunters moved into position on either side of them. One Tariq recognized as Afanasiv Balan, a hunter who, like Maksim, had been a good friend to Tariq over the years. Siv was extremely dangerous, a powerful man with unusual eyes that looked as if they swirled blue and green, both colors vibrant. His hair, rather than black, as most Carpathians’ was, was long and thick and very blond. It was a rarity in the Carpathian world and it set him apart. Like Dragomir, he rarely spoke, but he was quick to take action. Tariq was grateful he was there.

The other hunter was one Tariq had very little knowledge of. He had been born a few years before Tariq had left with his father and mother, when he was still in his thirties, to go into the Russian territories. They’d shared a childhood, but Tariq only knew him by reputation now. He looked worn and grim, his eyes gray, his hair black and woven with long leather cords into a thick braid. He had one scar that was curved right over his left temple to the corner of his left eye. He was slender in comparison to hunters such as Dragomir or Siv, without an ounce of fat. His muscles were sleek and powerful, and he moved with the fluid glide of a predator. His name was Nicu Dalca. He moved like lightning, so fast when he fought that one could see only a blur of movement.

Tariq nodded to him, welcoming him to the coming battle. He hoped there wouldn’t be a fight right there, not with his lifemate and her friend so close, but now, the odds were stacked in their favor.

Fridrick hissed, his sharp teeth showing as he scowled at Charlotte, focusing his attention on her. “You should have come to me while I gave you the chance,” he snarled, his voice low. “You will rue this night. You will learn to feel what being alone is truly like before I am finished with you. You will learn what it is to suffer…”

“Enough,” Tariq snapped, his tone commanding. Still, beside him, Charlie had stiffened in alarm. She had a niece. He remembered that from the earlier conversation. Fridrick had killed her brother but left the niece alive to lure Charlie back to the States.

Charlotte took a step toward Fridrick, the color leeching from her face. Tariq caught her arm and actually had to shackle her wrist to keep her from moving toward the vampire. Fridrick had found her weakness. The vampire smiled, looking truly evil as he waved his hand at his companions. All of them faded into the shadows. Several of the hunters glided after them, silent and deadly with purpose no one could possibly mistake.

“Your niece.” Tariq pulled Charlotte in front of him, needing to touch her, but also to distract her so she wouldn’t pay attention to the hunters following their prey. Mostly he needed to get the information immediately because Fridrick was going to retaliate. For the first time, Tariq noted the disparity in their heights. She stood so straight that he hadn’t really noticed how short she was. “I need to know where she is right now.”

Charlie hesitated, and he couldn’t blame her. She didn’t know him. He gave her a little shake. “Look at me. Right now. Look at me.”

Her gaze jumped to his. Clung there. He refused to relinquish control once he had her trapped. “You know who I am. You know my reputation.” And it wasn’t that good. Most people thought he was either a playboy or connected to organized crime. “I can keep you safe from him, but he is going after your niece. My people have to get there first. Where is she?” She hadn’t been susceptible to Fridrick’s compulsion, so he doubted if he could take her memories without a fight, and he wanted her to trust him.

Her eyes searched his for what seemed an eternity. He was aware of every passing second. Her every heartbeat. The two men behind him were waiting patiently, still as statues. She had the letter to her mentor in Paris to cling to as proof that he was a businessman and he’d made it more than clear that Fridrick and he were enemies.

He knew the exact moment when she decided to trust him. “Lorell Lane. On the ranch there. It’s a dirt road and it only leads to one property. She’s with a friend, Grace Parducci, her nanny. Grace isn’t going to let anyone take her unless they say, ‘The carousel spins in a continuous circle.’ Lame, but that was all we could come up with. Her name is Lourdes, and she’s only three.”

Maksim, Dragomir and Siv had remained with Tariq when the others drifted out, after Fridrick and his crew. Fridrick knew the hunters wouldn’t attack them as long as they remained in the vicinity of the club – there were too many witnesses. He had ordered the four human puppets and one vampire master to remain behind, showing themselves, keeping the hunters busy safeguarding the humans in the club. With the hunters watching those near the humans, Fridrick and one of the Malinov cousins could hunt for Charlie’s niece.

Maksim moved fast, disappearing into the shadows before taking to the air, streaking toward the ranch in the form of molecules, a fast-moving comet determined to outrace Fridrick. Dragomir followed him, a silent, terrible, brutal specter, more savage than man. He was a throwback to the ancient Carpathians, the ones never touching society, humans or civilization. They existed to hunt. Most were long gone from the world; some had isolated themselves in a monastery high up in the Carpathian Mountains. It was impossible to tell if Dragomir was one of the monks, but if so, he was every bit as dangerous as he looked – and then some.

Siv followed, silent and deadly as he usually was, as determined as the other two hunters to keep Grace and Lourdes safe from Fridrick. In doing so, they were helping to save Tariq’s lifemate, a sacred duty held by all Carpathian males.