Camille.
Mentally, I kick myself for etching our tree, marring something that holds such perfect memories. I shouldn’t make promises when I’m unsure she’d want to take a second chance with me after what I’d put her through. What I’m putting her through.
Again.
Or maybe I’m sabotaging my future and laying blame on myself for giving up my humanity to serve my master. Camille’s smart and has figured out my loyalty. She probably hates me.
I shouldn’t hope for an us, when I stripped her choices when I left her, deciding she was better off without a vampire as a husband. Especially after having my humanity stolen from me. What the hell is wrong with me?
My belly complains from hunger, but I tell it to quiet down as I fed last week. Or was it the week before?
I stroll to the front room, thinking of catching up on some mindless comedy when I spot a few of my vampire comrades perched on their porches, curiosity drawing their crimson stares toward something in the distance.
Night filters through protective windows. The sun is but a memory when I step outside. Dusk casts the PDU vampire base in amber shades. For a few moments, I try to make sense of what I’m seeing.
On the horizon, a single black SUV blazes toward the vampire housing, kicking up debris. A curl of tan smoke precedes a line of trailing security cars, their blue and red lights strobing against the sparse scrub brush that spans the outer limits of the PDU’s protective fence line.
“Ben, your heart’s pounding like a jackrabbit’s, your breathing’s racing to catch up. What’s going on?”
Master worms his way inside my head, our psychic connection stronger than graphene, and as if Riley’s part of my vampire DNA. I hone my stare toward the unfolding scene. Vampire eyesight is eight times more powerful than a human’s, and a smile pulls at my lips, reaching to my eyes. “Camille’s here.”
“There? On-site? She’s the one who blew past the guard gate and shattered the crossing arm to smithereens? She’s the one who told Anderson to fuck off? Well, I’ll be damned.”
I can picture Riley, one palm pitting his hip, while he runs his free hand through his unruly dark hair, completely caught off guard at Camille’s tenacity to reclaim what’s hers, or to part peacefully. I won’t let myself believe the latter. Risking her life to tell me to go pound sand isn’t her way.
Warmth settles in my chest as pride fills me to the brim, and I laugh out loud. I jab my hand in the direction of the SUV, letting every vamp within earshot know who’s heading our way. “Here comes my badass wife!”
Riley deepens our connection, allowing him to witness what I’m glimpsing.
“I told you once you gave Camille a sign, suggesting you were the one holding back and not her, she’d come for you. I’m not saying a human-vampire relationship will be easy, as Other Kind are still fighting for human rights, which votes next month in the senate, but I think you need to let Camille decide what’s best for her.”
I step farther out onto my landing, widening my stance as she comes into view. “Says the man who’s married to the queen.”
Riley chuckles. “I’ll call off the dogs…”
He’s gone from my head but not before the SUV slides around the corner, heading straight toward me. In a puff of leafy debris, she slides along my gutter, the tires butting the curb.
I expect her to leap out, but she stays seated, her hands still locked around the steering wheel, head held straight as if she’s looking at what’s ahead of her instead of in the rear-view.
I need to start picturing my future.
My pulse soars, beating on my chest bone to the point of pain. Inside my mind, emotions heighten—fear like I haven’t felt before. What if she’s here to tell me to fuck off? To tell me she wishes I had actually died?
No. No, Camille’s not here for that.
The vehicles following her park along each side of the street, obviously having heard Riley’s command, but not taking any chances since Camille’s human in a vampire encampment.
I hold up my hand as Anderson gets out of his vehicle. “Give us a minute. Camille’s come here to talk to me. Let’s show her some respect.”
The pop of her door opening draws my attention, and I lower my arm, staying put, although I want nothing more than to fall at her feet and beg her to take me back.
She scrambles out of the car, sporting her favorite blue jeans, which she’s tucked into her knee-high brown leather boots. These are the ones I adore, which make her appear wholesome and taller than she is. A simple black collared shirt buttoned to just above her cleavage exposes a pumping vein. Look away.
Only I can’t. My natural urge to take Camille consumes me just as it had since the very first time I’d seen her.
Suddenly, I’m warm—hell, molten for her, and she has no idea what she’s doing to me. “You want to come in?”
Anderson heads my way, stopping behind Camille. “You’re fine where you are, Mrs. Santos.”
She gives him a sideways glance. “What I have to say won’t take long, and I want to do it face to face. In the open. But I don’t need anyone speaking for me. Is that clear, Corporal?”
“But, Camille—”
“Stay out of this, Anderson,” I hiss, a growl rumbling from deep inside as I widen my bare feet, feeling foolish as I do it because Anderson’s spot-on in his positioning and recognition of the tense scene. Camille’s put herself in danger by coming here, but she’s also brought a caravan of backup.
The crowd expands, a few vampires leaching
