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had liked it. He could still feel their gifts meshing into each other and the intense pleasure that followed. Philip had often kissed his victims before feeding, but he’d never felt anything like Robert had. Kissing was just a prelude to feeding, something he did to relax a victim right before he shut off his gift and reveled in the onslaught of fear.
    “Philip, what does it mean?” Eleisha whispered again, pushing her face against his shoulder.
    He gripped her tightly. “I don’t know.”
    Twenty minutes later, the sun crested, and he fell dormant while holding on to her.
     
    Just before dawn, Wade decided to knock on Rose’s door. He didn’t like the idea of disturbing her if she wanted privacy, but it was unlike her to spend most of the night in her room. Usually, she would work with either Wade or Philip on developing her telepathy, spend time in the garden with Eleisha, or read in the sanctuary with Seamus, turning the pages for him. If she wished to be alone, Wade did not want to intrude, but he felt she should be informed of the situation.
    He knocked on her bedroom door.
    “Rose, it’s me.”
    “Come in,” she called.
    He opened the door to see her sitting in a chair, reading a Dick Francis novel. She wore a loose white dress with a black belt at the waist. But she also wore gloves that came up past her wrists. Recently, she’d manifested a new telepathic power: psychometry. She had to be cautious of touching anything with her bare hands, or she might be flooded with unwanted images of where an object had been or who had been holding it.
    Rose wasn’t pretty like Eleisha, but Wade always thought of her as a handsome woman. She was tall and looked about thirty years old, with long brown hair sporting a few white streaks. Rather than make her older, the streaks simply made her more exotic. He’d always liked them.
    After seeing him in the doorway, she glanced down at her watch.
    “Oh . . . ,” she said in surprise. “I’d no idea it was so late. I won’t even have time to change.”
    He smiled at her. “Good book?”
    “Yes, very good. I forgot the time.”
    Vampires seldom forgot the impending dawn—they automatically fell dormant the second the sun crested—but she had the windows completely closed off, so he could see how she might have become lost in her novel.
    She stood up and started toward the bed. “Thank you for checking in.”
    “I sent Seamus back to London. I just wanted to let you know.”
    She stopped. “London. Again?”
    “Yes, on the same lead. Another news story appeared tonight, and I’m hoping he’ll find something this time.”
    Her face was impassive. “Let us hope.”
    Rose was a quiet, driving force behind their operation. She wanted to find every last vampire in hiding and offer him or her a place here.
    The first hints of the sun must have peeked up beyond the covered window, because she wavered on her feet, and he rushed in to help her. She raised one hand quickly, stopping him.
    “No, it’s all right. I can manage.”
    She dropped down onto the bed, fully clothed. For some reason, her refusal hurt him. He felt rebuffed, as if she didn’t want him to touch her for any reason. He backed away, about to tell her good night even though it was morning, but she had already fallen dormant.
    Wade closed the door and stood there in the main-floor hallway for a moment. The nights were getting longer, and so he was spending less time awake and alone during the daylight now. He’d long since adjusted his hours to those of his companions, but he never needed to sleep all day as they did.
    He knew he should go cook himself something to eat, and then go to bed himself, so he went downstairs to the basement apartment. But instead of turning right to head into the kitchen, he turned left and went down the hallway to undergo a somewhat twisted ritual he performed every morning.
    He often had long talks with himself, insisting that he find a way to stop doing this, but he