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unconsciousness enough to realize she was hurt, and that it really was Vincent with her.  
    Olivia looked at her arm, but all she could see was red. Was that blood? Her blood?
    She was mesmerized by how Vincent diligently wrapped her arm and tied the black bandage that looked suspiciously like his tee shirt.
    Olivia blinked as the fog of her head cleared even more. His hand was on her forehead pushing back her hair again. A frown marred his forehead.
    She had the insane urge to smooth it away and run her hands over his sun-bronzed skin. This was the Chiasson she had silently coveted, the Chiasson that had never looked at her.
    “Your eyes are clearing,” he said.  
    She tried to swallow, to wet her dry mouth so she could ask what had happened.  
    “Answers later. First, we need to get you to safety.”
    Olivia wasn’t sure if she could stand, but she shouldn’t have worried, because Vincent gathered her against him. She rested her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes. The rest of her fear melted away.
    It had taken long enough, but she was finally in Vincent Chiasson’s arms.
     
     

 
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    CHAPTER FIVE
     
     
    Vincent gently laid Olivia on the couch and checked the bandage on her arm. The cuts weren’t deep enough to require stitches, but the fact she had been injured, that he hadn’t gotten to her in time made him furious.
    He touched her hair again as he had yearned to do years ago. He couldn’t seem to stop himself. It was like cool silk running through his fingers. The length boggled his mind, as did the thickness.  
    Unable to help himself, he ran the pads of his fingers over her high cheekbones down to her full lips. His body stirred, heat flaming his blood as desire engulfed him as if it hadn’t been nine years since the last time he had seen her.  
    Vincent recalled with crystal clarity the night he truly noticed her. He had been with his parents when they told Maria that her son and his wife had been killed by a demon. Olivia had walked out onto the porch still half asleep with that magnificent hair of hers mussed, her luscious curves on display in her tiny tank top and shorts, and he had fallen instantly under her spell.
    “I’m going after it,” Christian said as he started for the door.
    “No!” Vincent bellowed as he jumped to his feet, forgetting that Olivia had drifted off to sleep. He wiped his hand down his face when his three brothers turned to him. “No,” he repeated in a calmer tone.
    A muscle flexed in Christian’s jaw. “You might be the eldest, but that doesn’t mean you can tell me what to do.”
    “I refuse to find another member of my family dead,” Vincent said. It would likely shatter him if he did. It had taken everything he had to put that dreaded night eleven years ago behind him. And he almost hadn’t succeeded.
    Lincoln leaned against the kitchen counter. “Listen to him, Christian. Please.”
    “We had it,” Beau said. “It was right there. We could have gone after it.”
    Lincoln’s face contorted in anger. “Gone after it? Was I the only one to see it disappear right before our eyes?”
    “No,” Christian grudgingly admitted.
    Beau paced the space between the kitchen and the dining area. “I can’t just wait around for someone else to be killed. Most of the things we hunt pose a danger, and few get a chance to actually hurt people.”
    “Why did it target Olivia?” Lincoln asked.
    Vincent glanced at her. “I don’t know. I tracked the beast here last night, but that’s all.”
    “I was the one who spoke to her this morning,” Beau said.  
    Christian slapped his hands on his legs. “Does that mean we can’t talk to anyone for fear that they’ll end up dead?”
    “We already keep to ourselves. What else does this thing want?” Lincoln asked.
    Vincent scratched his jaw as he considered his brothers’ words. “We looked through that entire book of our family’s, and nothing in there could just