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undead had passed.

The harpy eagle flew toward the river, taking a direct route. Dominic was suddenly worried about what he might find. On the edge of the trees, the De La Cruz's sprawling ranch was nestled into the valley between the rolling hills. It was surrounded by forest, but meticulously maintained, so the cattle could roam freely in the lush grasses. The house, Spanish style, with thick walls and cool verandahs, was shaped like a U with a courtyard in the center. The green of the courtyard provided an oasis of sorts, colors rioting with one another from the various flowers and bushes.

Along the stone walkway, the sharp eyes of the eagle spotted bright red blood. The small stream was narrow and slowly moved along the stones in a thin crimson line. Dominic dropped down, shifting to his human form as he bent over the fallen man. He had fought, but the vampire had nearly ripped out his throat. He was already dead, and Dominic left him, striding into the house. The door had been left open, providing him with a good view of the long, shaded room.

He heard a snarl and a hard slap coming from another room.

"Where is he?" Etienne demanded, his voice spitting and hissing, alerting Dominic that he was fast losing control.

"I'll never tell you."

A female voice. Fairly young. Terrified. Just the way the vampire liked them. The rush of adrenaline in the blood would serve as a drug flooding the system.

"So you would die for him."

"Yes." The voice trembled, but the word was firm.

Dominic burst through the door as dramatically as possible, hoping to throw the vampire's timing off. Etienne spun even as he delivered the killing blow, swiping at the woman's throat, tearing through arteries and vocal cords and flesh. Blood sprayed across the room. The woman clamped both hands to her throat and went to her knees even as Dominic leapt the distance, slamming hard into the undead, driving him away from the woman. A roar announced the arrival of Zacarias. He burst through the window, shattering glass and adobe. Debris rained down on them as Dominic seized the vampire with one hand and drove into his chest with the other. Etienne dissolved, trying to stream from the room through the open window. Droplets of blood trailed after him, giving him away in the bank of mist.

Zacarias dropped to his knees and gently removed the woman's hands from her throat. She was young, even for human years, perhaps in her early twenties. Her eyes were dark brown, very large, framed with long black lashes. He could see the light receding from her eyes, but she looked glad to see him alive. For some reason, that little flutter of recognition moved him after so many centuries of emptiness. Her family had given his family service generation after generation. Her father lay dead in his courtyard and this young woman was dying on her bedroom floor, obviously trying to protect his resting place.

He wrapped his hands around her throat and pressed heat into her skin, bright and hot and painful for her, he knew. He couldn't prevent the pain, not with the life draining from her body so fast. Her throat was crushed. He sent himself outside his body and into hers, working as fast as possible to repair the damage to the artery, to stem the flow of precious blood. Trusting Dominic to keep the undead from him while he worked on the woman, he left his body vulnerable to attack while he meticulously cauterized the artery, closing and sealing the gaping wound.

Without thought of the consequences, Zacarias slit his wrist and dripped blood into her mouth, stroking until her reflex allowed her to swallow. He had to guide the blood through her torn throat to allow it to soak through her veins and into every cell of her body. He replaced what she'd lost, giving no thought to leaving himself too weak to move. There was no blood supply for him, not with Dominic's blood so contaminated. Right at that moment it didn't matter to him.

This woman's family had done so much for the De La Cruz family, and he wasn't going to lose her. He'd seen her a couple of times moving through his house, cleaning, always in the distance. He rarely went near anyone these days. The call of the darkness had become strong in him these last years and he spent most of his time alone, far from temptation. He