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their
     sockets could deny it.
    He cocked his head to the side and studied the male’s physique next: tall, muscular,
     but in a sculpted, sinewy way. Strong but lean. And his narrow hips were more square
     than V-shaped. His knees turned out just barely , as if he had almost been born bowlegged but it hadn’t quite happened.
    Saber straightened his own legs on impulse, trying to hide the identical condition
     in his own gait.
    What the hell is going on?
    The male’s eyes flashed with anger. “How dare you speak to your mother like that!”
    Saber took the man’s measure. “And you are?”
    “Rafael,” he snarled. “Your father.”
    Despite his cool indifference, the words struck Saber like the grill of a Mack truck,
     and Saber backed away. Quickly catching himself, he planted his feet and stared the
     male down. “My father is Damien Alexiares; I have no idea who you are, old man.”
    Rafael sneered in disgust, and then he wrapped his arm around Lorna’s shoulders—she
     was rapidly coming unglued, tears streaming down her face, her chest shaking with
     rising sobs. “Just how many women and children have you murdered?” Rafael snarled.
     “How many females have you raped?” He shoved Lorna behind him and gripped the bars
     in two angry fists, practically daring Saber to make a move in his direction. “How
     much flesh have you consumed, Dark One?”
    Saber shrugged his shoulders casually. “Enough.”
    Rafael spat in disgust. “Well, at least we can agree on one thing, monster; you aren’t
     the child I lost so many years ago—you’re no son of mine!”
    Lorna gasped and nearly swooned, and Santos had to step forward and catch her. “Oh,
     gods,” she cried inconsolably, “please, Rafael, stop! You don’t know what you’re saying.”
    Saber flicked his gaze to hers and shrugged. “Nah, Lorna,” he whispered. “It’s all
     good. At least the family reunion is over, and we can all drop the bullshit now. Why
     don’t you go back to your happy little home in your prim, puritan world and mourn
     the loss of whatever baby you think you once had. Wasn’t me then. Isn’t me now.” He
     winked at her, returned to the cot, lay down on the mattress, and crossed his feet
     at the ankles. As he leisurely folded his arms behind his head, he regarded them both
     through the corner of his eyes.
    “Come on, Lorna,” Rafael said, his voice brooking no argument. “Let’s leave this monster
     in his cell.”
    Lorna sidestepped around her large mate and boldly stepped up to the bars, where she
     leveled a devastated gaze at Saber. “Napolean is a just king; he rules with a fair
     and steady hand. He will not deny you basic comforts.” She raised her chin. “I will
     not allow him to.” She swallowed hard and pushed on. “If there is anything you need,
     send word through the sentinels, and I will try to get it for you.” She placed her
     hand over her heart and brushed away another falling tear. “You’re alive; that is
     all I need to know.” She smiled faintly then. “It is enough.” With that, she turned
     and rushed out of the room.
    Saber didn’t stir.
    He didn’t move a muscle.
    Not only was he completely disinterested in the whole overly dramatic scene, but frankly,
     he didn’t feel a thing.
    Nothing.
    Whatever these vampires thought—whatever they referred to as their souls—his had long
     ago been extinguished. He was, indeed, a monster. If not born, then bred. And he still
     refused to believe he came from anything other than Damien’s seed and a tragic human
     life. Staring blankly ahead at the one called Rafael, he could appreciate the full
     measure of hate in the male’s eyes.
    That he understood intimately.
    As the warrior regarded him with silent contempt, Saber sank deeper into the mattress,
     and something in the pit of his stomach stirred.
    He couldn’t quite name it—it was too unfamiliar.
    And it only lasted a moment.
    Nevertheless, it stirred.

four
    Dane and