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“No. Stay sitting.”

Layla frowned, but didn’t argue. She smiled again as he took a step forward.

“Come on,” he said, pulling on Mary’s hand.

“This is close enough.”

He kissed her and went over to the woman, sinking to his knees in front of her. When her hands went to her gown as if she were going to undo it, Rhage stopped her.

“I drink from the wrist,” he said. “And you are not to touch me.”

Dismay played over Layla’s features, widening her eyes. This time, when she inclined her head, it seemed out of shame, not deference. “I have been properly cleansed for your use. You may inspect me, should you wish.”

Mary clamped a hand over her mouth. That this woman saw herself as nothing more than an object to be handled was appalling.

Rhage shook his head, clearly uncomfortable with the answer, too.

“Do you wish for another of us?” Layla said softly.

“I don’t want any of this,” he muttered.

“But why did you call upon the Chosen if you had no intention of availing yourself?”

“I didn’t think it would be this difficult.”

“Difficult?” Layla’s voice deepened. “I beg your pardon, but I fail to see how I have inconvenienced you.”

“It’s not that, and I mean no offense. My Mary…she’s human, and I cannot drink from her.”

“So she will join us only in the pleasures of the bed. It will be my honor to administer to her there.”

“Ah, yeah, that’s not…She’s not here to…Ah, the three of us are not going to—” Good lord, Rhage was blushing. “Mary is here because I will have no other female, but I must feed, do you understand?” Rhage cursed and got to his feet. “This isn’t going to work. I don’t feel right about this.”

Layla’s eyes flashed. “You say you must feed, but you are unable to take her vein. I am here. I am willing. It would please me to give to you what you need. Why should you feel uncomfortable? Or perhaps you want to wait longer? Until the hunger consumes you and the danger is upon your mate?”

Rhage shoved his hand into his hair. Grabbed a chunk. Pulled at it.

Layla crossed her legs, the gown splitting open to her thigh. She was a picture, sitting on that lush bed, so proper and yet so incredibly sexual.

“Have the traditions faded from your mind, warrior? I know it has been a long time, but how can you feel unsettled about my attending you? It is one of my duties, and I find great honor in it.” Layla shook her head. “Or shall I say, I used to. We used to. The Chosen have suffered these centuries. None of the Brotherhood call upon us anymore, we are unwanted, unused. When you finally reached out, we were so pleased.”

“I’m sorry.” Rhage glanced at Mary. “But I cannot—”

“It is her that you worry about most, is it not?” Layla murmured. “You worry what she will think if she sees you at my wrist.”

“She is not used to our ways.”

The woman held her hand out. “Mistress, come sit with me so he can look upon you while he drinks, so he can feel your touch and smell you, so that you will be a part of this. Otherwise he will refuse me, and then where will the two of you be?” When there was only silence and Mary stayed put, the woman motioned impatiently. “Surely you realize he will not drink otherwise. You must do this for him.”

“So this is it,” Tohrment said as he parked the Rover in front of a sleek, modern house.

They were in a section of town John was unfamiliar with, where the houses were set back from the street and far away from each other. There were lots of black iron gates and rolling lawns, and the trees weren’t just maples and oaks, but fancy kinds, the names of which he didn’t know.

John closed his eyes, wishing he weren’t wearing a shirt that had a missing button. Maybe if he kept his arm around his stomach, Tohrment’s wife wouldn’t notice.

God…what if they had kids? Who’d make fun of him…

Do you have children? John signed without thinking.

“What’s that, son?”

John fumbled in his pockets for some folded-up sheets of paper. When he found his Bic, he wrote quickly and turned the paper around.

Tohrment