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Layla tugged her down and smiled a little. “I know you are nervous, but worry not, it will be over quickly. Then I will go and it will just be you and him. You can hold each other and banish me from your thoughts.”

“How can you stand to be…used like this?” Mary said.

Layla frowned. “I am providing what is needed, not being used. And how can I not give to the Brotherhood? They protect us so that we may live. They give us our daughters so that our traditions may continue…or at least, they used to. Of late our numbers dwindle, because the brothers no longer come to us. We are in desperate need of children, but by law we may breed only with members of the Brotherhood.” She glanced up at Rhage. “That is why I was selected tonight. I am close to my needing, and we had hoped that you would take me.”

“I will not lie with you,” Rhage said softly.

“I know. And still I will serve you.”

Mary closed her eyes, imagining the kind of child Rhage could give a woman. As her hand found her flat stomach, she tried to picture growing swollen and heavy. The joy would be overwhelming; she was quite sure. Because the pain of knowing that would never happen was tremendous.

“So, warrior, what will you do? Will you take what I am pleased to give? Or will you run the risk of hurting your mate?”

As Rhage hesitated, Mary realized the only solution they had was right in front of him. He needed to do this.

“Drink,” she commanded him.

He met her eyes. “Mary?”

“I want you to feed. Now.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

There was a heartbeat of frozen silence. Then he dropped to the floor in front of Layla again. As he leaned forward, the woman lifted her sleeve and laid her arm down on her thigh. The veins on the inside of her wrist were pale blue underneath white skin.

Rhage reached for Mary’s hand as he opened his mouth. His fangs elongated, growing three times as long as usual. With a slight hissing sound, he bent down and put his mouth on Layla. The woman jerked and then relaxed.

Rhage’s thumb stroked over Mary’s wrist, his hand warm against hers. She couldn’t see exactly what he was doing, but the subtle movement of his head suggested sucking. When he squeezed her palm, she returned the gesture weakly. The whole experience was too foreign, and he was right: There was a shocking intimacy to it.

“Stroke him,” Layla whispered. “He’s about to stop, and it’s too soon. He hasn’t taken enough.”

Numbly, Mary reached out and put her free hand on his head. “It’s all right. I’m fine.”

When Rhage made a movement to sit back, as if he knew she was lying, she thought of everything he was willing to go through for her, everything he’d been through for her.

Mary held his head in place, pushing down. “Take your time. Really, everything’s okay.”

As she squeezed his palm, his shoulders eased up and he moved closer to her, shifting his body around. She parted her legs so that he could settle between them, his chest resting on her thigh, his broad back dwarfing her. She ran her hand through his blond hair, its thick, smooth waves sinking in between her fingers.

And all of a sudden, the whole thing wasn’t that weird.

Even though she could feel the pulls he was taking on Layla’s vein, Rhage’s body against her own was familiar, and the rubbing on her wrist told her he was thinking of her while he was feeding. She looked over at Layla. The woman was watching him, but the concentration on her face was clinical.

Mary remembered what he’d said about the drinking: that if he bit her, she would feel his pleasure. Clearly there was none being exchanged between him and the Chosen. Both of their bodies were still, calm. Not in the throes of any kind of passion.

Layla’s eyes shifted up and she smiled. “He’s doing well. Just another minute or so.”

Then it was done. Rhage lifted his head slightly and turned to Mary’s body, easing into the cradle of her hips, putting his arms around her. He rested his face on her thigh, and though she couldn’t see his expression, his muscles were slack, his breathing