"Time." Rafe sighed. He rubbed his mouth against hers and then stepped back, finished stripping his coat off. "Yeah. Time to feed some poor kid that oughta be home having wet dreams about his girlfriend. Watch him like a newborn, try to keep the Change from killing him."

Grimacing, Sheila folded her arms around her waist. "That might be easier said than done."

Hooking a hand over the back of his neck, Rafe rotated his head one way, then the other. "Tell me about it."

Sheila urged him to sit down on the edge of the bed. "Do you want to have Dom come out here?"

Shooting her a glance, he asked, "Why?"

Digging her fingers into the stiff muscles of his neck and shoulders, she worked out some of the tension there. Rafe hated it when his prey got away. Hated when they didn't make it in time to help, and neither of them were pleased with the fact that they'd saved the new vamp from sunlight...but not from having the Change forced on him. "Because we're going to have our hands full getting this one to Excelsior. You don't want to let this feral slip away from us, do you?"

His muscles had started to loosen just a little, but then bunched up and Sheila sighed, watched as Rafe shoved off the bed and started to pace the narrow hotel room. "Yeah, we can call Dom. But he can help you get the kid to Excelsior and I 'll track the prick down."

It wasn't a suggestion that surprised her, but it was one that wasn't workable. She shook her head. "That won't work. You need to feed him and he'll need another feed here in the next few days. We both know it will be better for him if it's the same vamp guiding him over. And he can't wait until Dom gets here to feed." Lifting her hands, she shrugged helplessly. "I gave him some, but I'm not strong enough to get him anchored, much less get him through this."

Rafe went still, still as death, still as the night. In a low, furious voice, he muttered, "Damn it!"

"Rafe...call Dom. He can handle the feral, but that kid needs you now."

Scowling, Rafe shoved a hand through his hair and then nodded. "Fine." Stalking to the phone, he grabbed the receiver.

Abruptly, he slammed it back down. "You know who in the hell I'm going to have to leave in charge?"

Tucking her tongue into her cheek, Sheila tried not to smile. "Yeah."

"Hell, no."

She couldn't fight the grin any more. "There's no choice, baby. Josiah is the only one who can run things if both you and Dom are gone."

Swearing, Rafe once more grabbed the phone. "I need more people. Shit."

Sheila laughed. Yeah, leaving Josiah in charge was going to be interesting.

Chapter Two.

Age 31 Kel shoved his arms into a worn-out blue jean jacket and his feet into a pair of worn tennis shoes. Hunger gnawed at his stomach like a vicious beast and his gums ached, throbbed. Automatically, he ran his tongue over them, pressed it against one of the narrow notch depressions just behind his regular teeth. His fangs throbbed and burned, ready to push down, to sink into some soft neck and feel the sweet fire of blood as it flowed down his throat.

"Easier said than done," he muttered, shoving tumbled brown hair out of his eyes.

"You need to go feed, damn it. Why do you have to fight it so hard?"

He could see Sheila's pretty blue eyes, see the worry there, the sympathy. He hated her. Hated those soft blue eyes, her long blonde hair-she reminded him too much of Angel. Even after twelve years, he couldn't see a blue-eyed blonde without thinking of Angel. He'd loved her-still did.

And he'd lost her. He couldn't ever have her back.

Again, his hunger screamed at him and he heard the nagging echo of Sheila's voice from the past day. Go feed, Kel. Feed. Go feed off some woman who'd get all soft and needy, who'd press her body to his, who'd rub against him. His body wouldn't listen to him-it would respond, and he'd want.

If he was weak at the time, or especially lonely, he'd give in. Then after it passed, once the hunger was sated and his body was satisfied, he'd be miserable.

Would be easier to go on like this if he could just get Angel out of his head. He knew she was out of his reach now, but he couldn't quit thinking about her. Couldn't quit dreaming about her. Couldn't quit wanting her.

It would be impossible, considering that weird connection between them had become ten times stronger than it had been back before he'd been Changed. Before that, Kel's psychic abilities had been nil. It had all been on Angel 's side, her natural gifts had formed a bond between them and their feelings for each other had augmented that bond, letting them feel each other, sense other.

It had been that bond with her, Kel suspected, that had kept the feral who had Changed him from working his vamp mojo on Kel. Even now, twelve years later, he remembered the innate urge he'd had to leave when the feral had suggested just that.

Kel was stubborn, always had been, but it hadn't been his stubbornness that enabled him to resist. The strength had been born from their bond, a bond that wouldn't have existed without Angel's psychic abilities.

But vampirism was a weird thing. It created a mind-reading ability. While it wasn't exactly psychic abilities, it made a vamp able to sense a person's thoughts. Usually just prey, whether a woman's secret fantasies would make her that much easier to seduce, to fuck and feed, or the fear of those who preyed on others.

"It's a Hunter's calling," Kel had been told. Told time and again, but he didn't have any desire to be a Hunter, to be some altruistic defender of the innocent. Part of him knew it was because he blamed them. Blamed people like Rafe and Sheila, not only because they'd failed to save him and not even for the failure to save Angel.

No. He blamed them for saving him. Now he was stuck in what looked to be one long-ass life, a life where he was able to feel, hear, dream about Angel, but never to touch her again. Never to see her.

A life where she'd grow old and die-without him.

She was still the only woman he'd ever loved, and the time that stretched out between them didn't change that. Neither did the fact that she wasn't even aware he was alive.

Thanks to their bond, Kel was acutely aware of her, aware of her happiness. Aware of her sadness. Aware of the triumphs she'd had over the past ten years, and the losses. Aware of all the dreams she'd had about him, and how she'd wake from time to time, crying into her pillow and whispering his name.

When his family had a memorial for him after, she'd wept and he'd felt every damn tear as though it was his own. As they'd lowered an empty coffin into the ground, he'd felt the rose she'd gripped, felt the thorns digging into his flesh as though he'd been the one holding it. He could smell the scent of the flowers bedecking the empty box, and he could smell Angel.

Every damn day, he felt her, heard her voice. And those nights when she woke in tears, he felt the ache of her loneliness as strongly as he felt his own.

This existence was, plain and simply, pure hell. The only comfort he had was in knowing that while he might be condemned to feel Angel 's every need, wish and hurt, he could keep her from feeling his. During those first few weeks after the Change, while his body adjusted and his grief and rage spiraled out of control, he'd almost driven her insane.

When he awoke hungry and craving blood, she'd done the same, without understanding why or even realizing it wasn't her hunger, but his. When he slept like the dead throughout the days, waking only after the sun had set, she did the same.

Every new, hated experience was shared with her. Poor Angel. She'd thought the blood thirst, the rage, the sleeplessness was hers, something manifested out of her grief and fury.

When he fed, she'd believed she was hallucinating.

Her urge to sleep throughout the day, her insomnia, she'd thought it was all on her.

But it was him and he hadn't known.

Then, abruptly, some witch at the school where they'd sent him realized what was going on. How, Kel didn't know.

He hadn't wanted to be at the school, but he'd been too messed up in the head to think about leaving. He'd thought, more than once, about taking a walk in the sunlight, but his body's survival instinct was stronger. Each time he'd tried to take that daylight walk, his body had refused to cooperate.

One of the older vampires, a teacher whose name escaped Kel, had taken him out for a Hunt in the forest. They 'd been tracking a deer, the vamp making Kel track the animal by scent. Saliva pooling in his mouth, his fangs throbbing and his gut a screaming, empty knot, Kel had all but been out of his mind and then the witch had come.

Her name was Kelsey. She'd been the healer who'd come to him those first hellish nights and the sound of her voice registered before he recognized her face. His instinct had been to run. It wasn't her fault. She hadn't done a damn thing to him, but hearing her voice had reminded him of all the shit he'd tried to forget.

If he could have, he would have run away from her.

But something about the way she'd looked at him had frozen Kel in place. When she'd sent the other vampire away, Kel hadn't known what was going on, hadn't known what she wanted from him. All she 'd done, at first, was watch him with compassionate eyes.

That compassion hadn't done him a lick of good once she started to speak. Once he realized what he was doing. He'd always known Angel was different, had always known that the two of them had some weird connection, but he hadn 't thought it would backfire like this. Even after he'd come out of his Change, realized what he was and that he couldn't ever go back home, he hadn't thought about how this could affect Angel.

His selfishness still made him sick. Even after all these years. Angel had spent a good two months in hell because of him-and not just because of natural grieving. By the time any of the Hunters had figured out what was going on, Angel had all but retreated inside herself, convinced that her grief was driving her crazy.

With help from Kelsey and some of the vampires at Excelsior, the school he'd been sent to, Kel had managed to get it under control and block Angel out. Time passed, allowed her to grieve, and eventually to heal.

She even tried to forget.

She didn't succeed.

But then again...neither could he. No matter how hard he tried to forget, he couldn't.

He couldn't forget.

He couldn't even begin to heal.

After a while, he'd stopped trying.

He heard the footsteps coming his way before Sheila even knocked, could smell her even though she wasn 't in the room.

"Come on in," he said when she knocked. He didn't raise his voice, but then again, he didn't have to. In addition to the increased strength and speed, the Change heightened the senses too.

Sheila came inside, wearing a floor-length pink skirt and a soft white sweater. She didn't look a damn thing like a vampire.

No. She looked like a soccer mom, a PTA mom. She looked like somebody who ought to be making cookies, rocking babies and helping her daughter deal with her first crush.

She might bake those cookies, although she didn't get to eat them. They got eaten by the resident shape-shifters and the lone witch who lived within the enclave. Instead of being mama to a bunch of kids, Sheila played mama hen to a Master vamp's enclave.

She fussed when any of the motley crew living there didn't feed or take care of themselves.

But she didn't just play mama hen. Once he'd come back here, Sheila had been one of his trolling partners. New Hunters weren't allowed out on their own and she'd been one of the few of partners who hadn't outright refused to Hunt with him after more than one or two weeks.

He knew from experience that Sheila might look soft and sweet, but she could kick ass just like any other Hunter. She didn't think much of her abilities and Kel knew it wasn't just an act. She wasn't one of the strong ones, she'd told him. Over time, he figured out what she'd meant.

The strong ones usually ended up seeking out their own territory, driven by some instinctive need. They would be their own Master and they wouldn't have to fight some overbearing urge to submit to a stronger vamp.

Rather like Kel had to do here with Rafe.

Another thing Sheila was good at-playing mediator when her hard-ass husband got too domineering.

Which happened a lot. Might be a trait of Master vamps, or might just be because the guy was an arrogant S.O.B. She was the wife of the vampire who had saved Kel, a Master by the name of Rafe. At times, arrogant didn't even come close to describing Rafe.

For the longest time, Kel had hated that man. Rafe had known too. And from the sympathy he'd seen in the man's eyes a few times, Kel knew the guy understood. Sucked when even the meanest vamp around could see Kel's misery-and sympathize.

That sympathy didn't make it easier at all.

"You didn't feed yesterday," Sheila said. Her voice was soft, but he heard the accusation all the same.

Lifting a shoulder, he said, "I'm fine. I'll feed when I need to."

Lifting a golden brow, Sheila studied him.

Kel knew what she saw, a man who could stand to put on some weight. He often looked gaunt since he went too long between feedings. A too-young face and world-weary, old eyes. Kel had been nineteen when he was Changed. Until the day he died, he would have the face of a young man. Heavily lashed green eyes, thick, wavy brown hair he rarely bothered to cut, it all added to the pretty, young package.

Some guys would probably love to have an eternally young face and never have to worry about going bald. The face he had, coupled with the lean, rangy body and that hated vamp appeal drew women like honey drew bees. Most of the women didn't give a damn that he could stand to put a few pounds on.

Yeah, some guys would love it. But Kel hated it.

"You look like you need to now."

Need to what? He almost asked. Then he remembered. Feed. Yeah, she was here to nag him into feeding. Again.

Instead of answering, he bent down, tied his tennis shoes and then stood. Tension had every muscle on his body knotted and out of habit, he rolled his neck in an attempt to relieve the tension. It didn't help.

His wallet was on the plain, utilitarian dresser, along with the keys to a motorcycle. It looked like an ugly piece of crap, but that bike could move. It all but growled and rumbled with power when he revved the engine. Sometimes, when he went speeding down the highway with the speedometer edging up over 120 m.p.h., 130 m.p.h., 140 mph, he could feel his heartbeat speed up, just a little, as adrenaline flooded his system. For a few minutes, he'd almost feel alive.

But when he went to scoop up his keys, he saw the fine tremor of his fingers. Swearing, his hand clenched into a fist. He heard her moving behind him, but he didn't move away quick enough to evade her hand as Sheila reached out and grabbed his wrist.

His freaking bony wrist. Until that moment, when Sheila's slim, small hand easily encircled his wrist, he hadn't realized just how pathetic he must look.

"You're not fine," Sheila said, a thread of steel edging into her soft Southern drawl. She squeezed gently and then let go, eying him with a mix of frustration and disgust.

"You're not doing yourself any favors by starving, Kel."

"I'm not starving." But as if to countermand his words, a wave of hunger washed over him, hitting him with an intensity that nearly drove him to his knees. Sheila said something else, but he didn't notice. The only thing he was aware of was that she'd fed recently, that somebody's blood, hot and potent, was pumping through her veins.

Her lips moved but he was fascinated with the sound of her heartbeat. Sheila's sweater had a cowl neck that hid the ugly scars on her neck, scars she'd received when she'd been Changed. Kel found himself staring at her neck, envisioning how her soft white flesh would look, how she would feel, how she would taste.

The deep, booming voice was an intrusion, one Kel really didn't care for. He was focused on the ripe pulse of life flowing through Sheila and he wanted it-wanted it with an intensity that would shame him later-although it wasn't her he wanted.

But the intrusion wasn't going anywhere. If he could have swatted it away, he would have. It pushed between him and Sheila and Kel was more interested in going around the obstacle. When he tried, the obstacle moved with him, blocking him yet again.

His lips peeled back from his teeth in a snarl as the hungry beast inside him rose a little closer to the surface.

Then the obstacle grabbed him by the front of the shirt and jerked him forward. Reality came crashing down and Kel found himself literally nose to nose with one very pissed-off vampire.

The crushing, oppressive weight of Rafe's will as the Master forced Kel's hunger back into submission and his attention away from Rafe's wife.

Fury glittered in the black depths of Rafe's eyes but when he spoke, his voice was soft. "You're feeding tonight if I have to drag you out of this house and find a woman for you, kid. You got me?"

Fear, the need to submit and do whatever the Master demanded, rode hard on Kel 's shoulders, but his own will kept him from meekly agreeing. He dropped his gaze to Rafe's hand, still fisted in the front of his T-shirt, and then he looked back up at Rafe and gave him a mocking smile. "Gee, Dad, can I pick out what I eat or are you going to do it for me?"

Behind him, Sheila snorted. Rafe sent his wife a narrow look and then slowly loosened his grip on Kel. Common sense screamed that Kel should back away now, back away, get the hell away from Rafe and do what he 'd been told. But Kel had stopped listening to common sense years ago. So instead of backing away and getting at least the pretense of safe distance between them, he remained where he was, not even an inch away from Rafe.

The two men settled into a staring contest and Kel's misery, his rage, even his hunger fueled him, letting him meet the older, stronger vampire's glare with his own. It was Rafe who ended it, falling back first one step, and then another. But not because Kel had backed him down. Kel wasn't delusional enough to see that happening any time soon. Ever. No, Rafe backed away because he felt like it, and for no other reason.