Daisy cleared her throat and said gently, “Amelia, I know I don’t have a lot of experience in these sorts of things, but maybe you should use this day as some sort of closure.”

Closure…was that even possible when you had lost the love of your life? She doubted it, but one thing she knew was she was not the same gullible, innocent girl Byron Debrek met, and had falling at her feet. No, she was never going to be made a fool of with her heart again, because she was never going to give her heart away again.

Her hurt had turned to anger, and it was the anger she was sure wouldn’t allow her to move on. Maybe Daisy was right. Maybe this was a sign.

Amelia took a final sip of her coffee and slammed the cup down on the workbench, then stood up purposefully. “I think you might be right, Daisy. I think I need to start living again. Byron Debrek is in my past and I need to leave her there.”

Daisy stood up just as enthusiastically, and was just about to say something when Amelia bent over clutching her neck.

“What’s wrong? What’s happening?” Daisy held Amelia in her arms.

“My neck, it’s hurting.” Amelia had felt discomfort coming from the mark on her neck since returning to London, but never this hot, searing pain before. She took a huge breath and staggered over to one of the workroom mirrors. Everyone in the room had stopped what they were doing, and had their eyes trained on her.

She looked in the mirror and saw the mark on her neck had become red and angry.

Daisy’s face appeared behind her in the reflection. “What are you loo—” Daisy must have seen the mark because she stopped midsentence and then said, “You still have that?”

“Yes, it never healed properly, but it’s never hurt like this—”

Another wave of pain hit her, and all she could hear was Daisy saying, “I’ll get your uncle Jaunty.”

* * *

Byron had been watching her prey from the back of the dimly lit bar for the past twenty minutes. After slipping from her home, and evading her security, she’d spotted her prey and followed her into a bar.

The provocation from Victorija and her hunger had driven Byron to the edge. The monster inside her was demanding blood and a kill, but she still had some control in her foggy brain, so she thought going through the motions might calm her need to hunt.

She finished her drink in one gulp, and walked over to the bar, where the woman was sitting. She had Amelia’s colouring and was close to her build, but was not Amelia.

“Excuse me, may I buy you a drink?” Byron asked.

The woman turned around, and she smiled shyly at Byron. “Uh, hi. Yes, thank you. A vodka and Coke, please.”