“Helen.” Claire stopped her with a hand on her arm and searched the woman’s apathetic face for some hint of emotion. Her cold, flat gaze never even blinked. “You know what he is, don’t you?”

Helen quirked her eyebrow in silence.

Claire pressed a hand to her chest. “What I am?”

“Yes,” she answered coldly.

“Then, you know I need your help.”

Stone-faced, Helen stepped around Claire and continued down the hall. “That’s what Master Darius is doing. Helping you.”

Claire scowled and fell in step beside her. “No, he’s not.”

“He’s saving you from hurting others… and from damnation.” Helen stopped and pushed open a door, gesturing inside. “You should be thanking him.”

“You’re brainwashed,” Claire accused. “You know what will happen when we’re locked together—”

“Have you taken a good look at Darius?” Helen’s eyes raked Claire coolly, critically. “You could do a lot worse.”

“Of course,” she mocked. “I should drop down and kiss his feet in gratitude.”

Loyalty burned with bright fervor in Helen’s eyes. And something else. Not just loyalty. “Watch how you speak about Master Darius.”

With a jolt, Claire realized the middle-aged woman was in love with him.

As if realizing she had revealed too much, Helen straightened and said defensively, “He saved me. Twenty-five years ago. I used to be a real looker then.” Her eyes swept over Claire scornfully. “Better than you. I begged him to turn me, but he said he would not corrupt an innocent.”

Helen’s coldness suddenly made sense. She was jealous. Of Claire.

The housekeeper went on, “One night walking home from work a lycan got it into his head to take me home with him. I was to be his dinner. But first I was his toy—” She shrugged abruptly, as if it were a simple ordeal, but Claire knew it had to have been traumatic. “Darius saved me,” Helen finished. “I owe him everything. I chose to devote my life to serving him.”

Claire studied the older woman’s face, easily detecting a former prettiness buried beneath the sagging skin and age lines. She also saw something else. Heartache. The pain of unrequited love. She released a deep sigh. No wonder Darius appointed this woman his watchdog. She was his disciple. As loyal as they come. Claire would get no help from her.

Sighing, Claire walked past Helen and entered the bathroom, closing the door behind her. Once inside the spacious cream-tiled room, she turned on the shower, dropped the chenille throw, and removed Gideon’s jacket, instantly missing his familiar scent. Steam gusted out of the shower, but as she turned to step inside she caught her reflection in the mirror.