Yvette slammed the door to the living room shut behind her, a gesture simply made for effect since the room could have done with some airing. There was decidedly too much testosterone floating in the air.

Seeing Haven up and well filled her with relief, but she didn’t show it. Already her colleagues had given her dirty looks when she’d cried thinking Zane had killed Haven. Only when Francine had joined them and explained that the potion she’d produced would simply knock any witch out for at least twelve hours, did her tears dry.

How utterly humiliating, ugh! Showing such weakness in front of her colleagues had been a mistake. But when she’d seen Haven fall, all she’d been able to feel was the pain of losing him. It had sliced her heart in half, and she’d realized that her feelings for him had nothing to do with hatred.

What would she do now? Did she even have a choice when her body screamed to run into Haven’s arms? Sure, he’d fuck her like he’d promised. But then he’d come to his senses: he hated vampires. He’d never fall in love with her.

Putting on a brave face, Yvette looked at her colleagues. She felt better after having been home. Unfortunately, her dog was gone. And because of the approaching daylight, she hadn’t been able to go out and search for it. All she’d been able to do was send out her thoughts to it and hope the stupid dog would hear her and come back. She’d slept, then showered and changed into leather pants and a tight-knit turtleneck sweater—and cut her hair. She was the tough woman again. Nobody could get through her armor now.

“Yvette, you’ve been through enough. Why don’t you take a few days off?” Samson asked. “We can handle this.”

“Thanks, but no thanks. I have an account to settle with that fucking witch.” From the corner of her eye, she noticed Haven looking her up and down, his gaze heated. Under his perusal she felt her body temperature soar and for once was glad that vampires couldn’t blush, because she would have made a ripe cherry look pale in comparison.

Samson nodded. “Very well.”

Unable to bring herself to approach Haven to ask him how he felt, she looked at Kimberly. “How are you feeling? I hope the potion Francine brewed doesn’t have any aftereffects.”

“I felt a little dizzy when I woke up. But it’s okay now.”

“You brewed that potion, Francine?” Haven barked at the witch. “Why unleash it on us?” He gestured toward his siblings.

“Zane thought you were the enemy,” Yvette explained, for the first time fully looking at Haven. God, he looked sexy. He’d obviously showered and shaved, and despite the scent of witch that clung to him, his sexy male scent overpowered everything else. It brought back memories of their encounter in the bathroom. Another heat wave traveled through her core, threatening to melt her from the inside.

Haven glared at Zane. “Figures!”

Her colleague simply frowned and twisted his lips into a thin line.

“I didn’t get a chance to explain—”

“I’m not blaming you, Yvette. I’m blaming him.” Haven jerked his thump toward Zane, but didn’t take his eyes off her. His voice softened when he continued. “I’m glad you’re well.”

Yvette nodded past the lump in her throat, suddenly feeling like the quintessential wallflower clumsily talking to the quarterback in the corridor of her high school. This wasn’t good. She couldn’t allow herself to dissolve into a puddle of need when she was around him. Pathetic! That’s what she was: completely and utterly pathetic.

“Thanks,” she managed to say before tearing her gaze from him and focusing on the other people in the room. She cleared her throat, forcing more strength into her voice. “So, what’s the plan?”

Samson gave a nod to Gabriel, who stood. As Director of Scanguards’ San Francisco operations, he would run point on any major undertaking. “Samson and I discussed a few scenarios, and we’ve settled for the most feasible one. We’ll separate the siblings and—”

“Whoa—hold it! You’re not separating us,” Haven interrupted, his voice tense.

Gabriel held up his hand. “Sorry, but we can’t risk you three getting captured again together. It’s safer this way. And it won’t be forever, only until we’ve eliminated the threat.”

“How long?” Haven pressed.

“A few days, maybe a week. Thanks to Francine and the fact that we know the witch’s name, we already have an idea who she is and how we can find her. Our people are looking for her. Once we have her, you’ll be safe again.”