place a kiss on his lips. “Over time.”

“Perhaps you shouldn’t trust my intentions.”

“I never do,” she said, and raised her brows just slightly. “Rest.

You can bedevil me later.”

“I will,” he said. “Perhaps you might get me into the shade?”

She laughed and picked him up in her arms— a very odd sight,

and one Claire was pretty sure Oliver wouldn’t remember fondly—

and carried him away out of the sun.

Michael still guarded Fallon. He stood there with one of the

silver stakes, turning it restlessly in his fingers. Fallon was starting to shake off the shock.

The look in his eyes was pure, cold hatred.

“Yo, Mikey,” Shane said. “He ain’t a vampire anymore. If you

do that, it’s murder.”

“I know,” Michael said. “I won’t do anything he doesn’t make

me do. Please don’t give me an excuse, Fallon. I do owe you for giving me back my life.”

Fallon had recovered enough to say something, but it was faint,

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and Claire almost missed it. “You were a means to an end, boy,” he

whispered. “To hurt her.”

Michael shrugged. “Then I won’t invite you to my wedding.”

“What wedding?” Eve called, from where she was standing.

“They annulled our marriage, remember? You don’t think I’d

let you walk away, do you?”

She blew him a kiss. “Never ever, rock star. Leave him. Let’s go

home.”

Fallon smirked as Hannah Moses put handcuffs on him. “You

think you have a home to return to?”

They all stopped and stared at him— at the hot, bitter triumph

in his smile.

“Michael,” Shane said, “wouldn’t we know . . .”

“We were out of town,” Michael said, and looked at Claire for

confirmation. “We wouldn’t, would we?”

She searched inside herself for that connection to the Glass

House, that little thread of feeling that she’d come to recognize.

It was still there . . . but it was weak. Very weak.

“We have to go,” she said. “Right now.”

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FOURTEEN

They commandeered a police car from Hannah, and Shane

hit the lights and sirens while Michael drove, ignoring

stoplights and weaving around other cars as if he’d

plunged into a real- life video game. Claire and Eve, on the other

hand, just clung to their seats in the back. It didn’t take long to spot their house.

And the massive bulldozer that was heading relentlessly for it.

“Oh, God,” Eve said. As they made the turn, the treads of the

giant yellow monster mowed down and crushed their mailbox, hit

the white picket fence, splintered it, and crushed it into the nice, neat grass. It wasn’t neat for long. The treads chewed the yard into muck as the bulldozer moved forward, raising its bucket. It was

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aimed right at the corner of the house, and as Michael brought the