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“You need food,” he said, more sharply than intended. “We’ll stop.”

As a Breedmate, Claire’s perfect health and ageless longevity depended on the regular intake of a Breed male’s blood, but her body still required food to function. It was a hell of a lot more palatable for Reichen to risk the time it would take to get her a sandwich than it was for him to think about Wilhelm Roth nourishing Claire as only her true mate could do. He wondered how long it had been since she’d fed from Roth’s vein. Not long, he was guessing, based on how youthful and strong she looked. He wondered how long it had been since she’d lain with Roth. Had she ever loved him?

The questions were bitter on his tongue, but he choked them back. He didn’t want to know all of the ways that Wilhelm Roth had been with Claire, or how recently. She wasn’t his, and he had better put all thoughts of her aside to maintain his focus on the thing that truly mattered to him now—upholding his promise to avenge the innocent souls whom Roth destroyed. If he couldn’t do that, then he was no good to himself or anyone else.

Reichen drove for a while without speaking, working hard to ignore the fact that only a small space of leather and plastic separated him from Claire. At least he hadn’t gone pyro back at Roth’s office. Claire’s blood was likely to thank for that small blessing. He’d felt the fires leap to life inside him when he sensed her distress a few blocks away from the place, but somehow, by the time he’d returned to face the agents who were hurting her, he’d managed to keep the flames from erupting.

Barely.

For all his reassurances that he would keep her safe, he knew that his destructive power posed a very real danger to her. The more he used it, the more slippery his hold on it became. He didn’t know how long it might be before the fire trapped within him burned out of his control completely.

He couldn’t care less what happened to him, but if the heat should snap its tether while Claire was nearby…

Reichen looked at her pretty profile in the milky light of the dashboard. Her head was tipped down as she tried to smooth a nasty snag in her sweater. She concentrated on the imperfection, worrying the loose thread between her graceful, pianist’s fingers, her loose ebony hair stirring in the low draft of the heat blowing out of the vent.

“What is he afraid of?” she murmured. She glanced over, frowning now. “What is it that Wilhelm feels he needs to protect from you?”

Reichen shook his head. “I don’t know, and frankly, I can’t say that it matters to me now. I don’t care why he did what he did. All that’s left is the fact that he must pay.”

She pivoted in her seat, her dark eyes shining, stubbornly suspicious. “He’s threatened by you, Andreas. Not because of anything that happened these past two nights, but before that. Why else would he take such a drastic step and order an attack on your Darkhaven?”

“I suppose he didn’t appreciate me digging around in his affairs. He felt he needed to send a strong message to me.”

Claire nodded grimly. “And just what did he think you might find? I can’t believe it had anything to do with that missing girl from the club. Not to warrant the kind of retaliation you described.”

“So, you believe me now?” he asked.

She gave him a frank, unflinching look. “I don’t want to, but after talking with Wilhelm tonight… it’s harder for me to doubt you than it is to trust anything he says. You scared him, Andre. He’s still afraid of what you might know or what you could do to him. The question is, why? What is he protecting… or whom?”

A knot of coldness formed in Reichen’s gut as Claire spoke. He’d never asked himself why Roth came after him. He’d assumed it was due to a mix of old animosity and new opportunity when Reichen had unwittingly sent Helene into Roth’s crosshairs. The why of it really hadn’t seemed important. Not when rage and grief had been the only things Reichen had known in the aftermath of the slaughter.

He’d been blinded by his fury. By the need for