Too edgy to sleep and too restless to find distraction in a book, Daemon wandered through the dimly lit corridors of the Hall.

You’re running, he thought, bitterly aware of the doubts and fears that had come swarming up when he had neared his suite of rooms—and had sensed Jaenelle’s presence in the adjoining suite.

For most of his 1,700 years, he had believed, without question, that he’d been born to be Witch’s lover. Thirteen years ago, faced with a twelve-year-old girl, that conviction hadn’t been shaken. His heart had been committed; it was just the physical union that would have been delayed a few more years. But a brutal rape and the years he’d been lost in madness separated them now, and he wasn’t sure he could stand to face her and see only a sense of obligation or, worse, pity in her eyes.

He needed to find a place that would help him regain his balance.

Daemon paused, then smiled reluctantly as he realized that he hadn’t been running so much as searching. Somewhere on the grounds of the estate, there would be a place dedicated to performing the Blood’s formal rituals for the sacred days in each season, but he doubted Saetan would build a home that didn’t also contain a place for informal, private meditations.

He closed his eyes and opened his inner senses. A moment later, he was moving again, heading back toward the part of the Hall that contained the family living quarters.

He would have missed the entrance completely if he hadn’t caught a glimpse of his reflection in the door’s glass.

Stepping outside, he looked down at the sunken garden. Raised flower beds bordered all four sides except where the stone steps led down into the garden. Two statues dominated the space. A few feet in front of them were a raised stone slab and a wooden seat. Carefully positioned candle-lights illuminated the statues and the steps.

The statues pulled at him. He went down the steps, hesitated a moment, then stepped onto the grass.

Power filled the air, making it almost too rich to breathe. As he filled his lungs with it, he felt his body absorb the strength and peace contained within this garden. On the stone slab were half a dozen candles in tinted glass containers. Choosing one at random, he used Craft to create a little tongue of witchfire and light it. A hint of lavender reached him before he walked over to the fountain that contained the female statue.