Yvette took a breath, filling her lungs with air, but her brain couldn’t process the scents that assaulted her—an aftereffect of whatever had knocked her out, for sure.

Yvette glanced at Kimberly, who immediately backed away from her, frightened and intimidated.

Were her eyes glowing red or her fangs showing? She slid her tongue over her teeth, realizing to her relief that her fangs hadn’t descended involuntarily; however, how would she explain her suddenly long hair to her? “Are you okay, Kimberly? Did he hurt you?”

The girl shook her head. “You’re a vampire. I didn’t wanna believe it.” Her tear-stained eyes were wide with fear.

Shit! How had she figured it out? Yvette’s mind worked overtime, trying to piece together the memories of the fight with her attacker. Had she shown her fangs during the fight? Yvette shook her head and looked down at Kimberly’s wrist where her hand had left a red imprint. It was a survival mechanism: a vampire could lock his hands around an object to hold on to it, freezing it into place if channeling all energy to it. If knocked out by any unknown force, it would assure not being swept away or taken to another location. In this case, it had made sure that Yvette couldn’t be separated from her charge. How she would explain this to Kimberly, she didn’t quite know.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you, but I did need to protect you.”

Kimberly continued shaking her head, as if denying it would magically make it not true, not real. Reality sucked, but Yvette didn’t have the luxury of believing it could be undone. The girl had already seen too much; it was best to come clean right now. Or maybe she should wipe her memory right now, make her forget what she’d seen—but only if she couldn’t handle the truth.

“Listen to me. I’m still here to protect you, no matter what. What I am doesn’t matter. I won’t hurt you.”

The girl sniffed. Where had all her bubbly personality gone? Right now, Yvette wouldn’t mind her endless chatter; at least, it would tell her that her charge was alright. She sucked in a deep breath, trying to think clearly of how to assure her that she was no threat, when an all-too-familiar scent tickled her nostrils.

Yvette shot up from the cot and lunged at the person leaning against the wall over her left shoulder: Haven, the fucking asshole who’d attacked them. She slammed him against the concrete, pinning him.

“I’m going to kill you, you bastard!”

Through clenched teeth, he hissed at her, “We’re in the same fucking boat.”

She dismissed his words. A coward and a liar—she sure knew how to pick ‘em. Yvette’s fangs itched, and she made no effort to disguise them. As they descended and pushed past her lips, she snarled at him. But instead of seeing fear in his eyes, she saw defiance, bright and hot.

“Release us, now!”

“I can’t: I’m imprisoned just like you are—so let go of me.”

Yvette’s eyebrows drew together as she frowned. What the fuck was he talking about?

Without loosening her grip, her eyes scanned the room. She’d been too dazed up to now to take in her surroundings. But there was no time like the present. There was a door built into one wall and a boarded-up window in another. Neither would provide an insurmountable obstacle to escape. Another door at the other end of the room was open; she spotted a toilet behind it.

Could he have told the truth? Yvette shook off the thought. No, he was a liar.

“Don’t mind if I find that hard to believe,” she snorted. “Last time I checked, you were the one who attacked us.”

“He’s telling the truth,” Kimberly’s voice came from behind her.

Yvette glanced back at her charge, trying to assess whether Kimberly was in shock. What kind of crap had Haven fed her while Yvette was unconscious? Turning back to the bastard, she narrowed her eyes.

“I should kill you right here, right now. You know why I won’t?”

“Because you still want my dick?”

She slapped him across the face. How dare he trifle with her? “You’re still alive because I’m not going to subject Kimberly to such gore. But the second she’s safe, I’m coming after you.”

“I figured you’d bear a grudge against me.” He shrugged, his face giving nothing away.

Yvette ignored his comment. “Where are we?”

“In a warehouse in the outskirts of San Francisco.”

“Where exactly?” She pressed her arm tighter across his chest, forcing the air out of his lungs.

“South San Francisco, off the 101.”