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tongue. She was so ancient, and so potent, that even a drop had been enough for him to manifest the ankh of the Ptolemy within his original mark, branding him forevermore as both minion and slave.
    He was now the most fortunate, and most wretched, of cats.
    Blood is destiny
, Ty thought. The vampire creed. From the moment you were sired, your mark determined your path, the way you would exist, the circles you would move in. Your place in the realm of night, as fixed and immovable as the sun he would never see again.
    There was no doubt in his mind now. Lily Quinn wore such a mark. But how and why and what it meant were all things he needed to have answered before he took her into the lion’s den. He would not risk Arsinöe’s wrath—not now, when he knew how much was at stake.
    I will not have this woman torn to pieces because of my own mistake.
    It was a foolish thought, rising unbidden and just as quickly pushed away with a faint feeling of embarrassment. Lily Quinn being ripped apart by a furious queen was the least of his concerns. And the gods knew he’d never try to protect humans again. Hadn’t turned out so well the last time, that was sure.
    After a moment, Ty drew Lily’s hair back over the mark, casting a quick glance out the window behind him. He sensed nothing, but he would take no chances, not until he knew what this meant. He knew the marks of thedynasties, and of the lowbloods that served them, and all of the variations that marked the wretched nightcrawlers who lurked at the edges of society, who hunted as they were hunted.
    This was nothing like those.
    “What have you gotten me into, Lily Quinn?” he asked softly, rising again. But her sleeping face gave no answers. As the first hints of lethargy began to steal through him, heralding daylight, he left her, becoming a cat as he wound around the corner of her door and stole on silent feet down the hallway. The woman had a basement full of hiding places, and he had no intention of going far.
    Even in sleep, he would guard her.
    Because he had a bad feeling that Lily, before all was said and done, was going to need all the protection he could give.
    In dreams, Lily wandered in a ruined temple that was still blackened and charred from the fire she had seen so many times. She looked for someone, but she knew not who; she knew only that they were lost to her forever. The fire, and the people, were gone.
    In sorrow and confusion, Lily looked in vain for what would never return. A man’s voice whispered on the breeze. Her name. She turned, feeling the simple word like a caress.
    And the mark on her skin began to burn.

chapter
THREE
     
    B Y THE TIME her last class let out on Monday, Lily had to accept the truth: She was obsessing. And not just her usual, run-of-the-mill sort of obsessing either. She was a master at worrying over the most minuscule issues, but having an impromptu make-out session with a guy who’d managed to vanish into thin air didn’t feel all that minuscule.
    “Okay, that’s it for today, everyone. Drop your papers on the desk on your way out, and start reading Spenser’s
The Faerie Queene
. I hear groaning. There is no groaning in Intro to English Lit.”
    Not unless I’m the one doing it anyway
, she thought, eyeing the growing pile of essays as the students filed past. Lily grabbed her cup of coffee off the podium she’d been lecturing at for the past hour and downed the last of it. Even with the aid of her superinsulated travel mug, it had gone pretty much stone cold, but she was hoping that eventually, when her caffeine levels hit critical mass, she could shake this weird, nagging feeling she was experiencing.Tynan MacGillivray was probably a serial killer. A really, really hot serial killer. With beautiful silver eyes, and a mouth that felt like—
    “My God, you look like death warmed over. Please tell me you at least had an attractive reason for losing so much sleep.”
    Lily jerked her head up, momentarily startled. While