The creature masquerading as his best friend snarled, a fierce sound that raised the hair on the back of Max’s neck. Nathan’s face twisted for a moment into feeding mode, then back to his more recognizable features. But it wasn’t the monster Max saw there. Nathan’s eyes were watery and rimmed in red, his forehead creased in inhuman concentration. He opened his mouth to issue a desperate scream. “Shoot me!”

Max didn’t hesitate, and pulled the trigger. He wasn’t sure he would have wasted time if Bella had insisted he stake Nathan. Seeing her that way, trembling and helpless, Max had a horrible realization shoot through him: that he would have killed Nathan if it was the only way to stop him from hurting her.

The shot struck Nathan in the chest, and for a moment, Max worried that killing him was exactly what he’d done. He raced toward his fallen friend.

When their eyes met, Nathan seemed to understand his concern. “It’s not in the heart. It’s not in the heart.” Then he closed his eyes.

Max collapsed on the grass beside him, but was back on his feet a second later. Bella.

She lay sprawled on the ground, taking fast and shallow breaths. When she turned her head and caught sight of him, she smiled weakly. “I am sorry, I thought I had him.”

“Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” Max dropped to his knees beside her. “You shouldn’t move, you know, in case anything is broken.”

“I should stay here until the owners of that palace call the authorities and have me hauled away for trespassing?” She stood slowly, brushing off her clothing and shooing away his hands. “I will be all right. Besides, we have to get him back to his apartment before the drugs wear off.”

“How long do we have?” Max looked reluctantly away from her, to where Nathan lay in the grass, his chest barely moving.

“Ninety minutes at the most. Only enough so I can make a clean getaway.” She shrugged one shoulder as if trying to work it back into the socket. “I have never had to transport anyone before.”

Max eyed his friend’s body, then the woman at his side. “I think he’ll be too heavy on my own, but I don’t want you to help me if you’re not up to it.”

“I am fine. Treating me like porcelain is not going to change anything,” she said firmly.

He didn’t argue. There was no point, as long as she believed he was completely infatuated with her.

That’s the problem, he decided. Her wishful thinking.

Knowing that made it much easier for him to endure the ride back to the apartment.