“Me,” she agreed and drove her hand wrist-deep into his chest. Only the element of surprise gave the maneuver any chance at all, and for a moment she was afraid surprise wouldn’t be enough. Then her searching fingers closed. Leaning back on her heels, she hauled the shadow clear, flinging it free and destroying it in the same movement.

If asked, she’d have had to say that final sputz was one of the most satisfying sounds she’d heard in the last seven years.

Except that no one was asking.

When she turned, it was to see Henry crouched in front of Tony, one pale hand extended. To her surprise, Tony flinched back from his touch.

“Not yours,” he said hoarsely. “My own!”

The Nightwalker nodded. “I know.”

And then they both pretended to believe it.

Holding in the hurt, Tony remembered. Lee hadn’t remembered—maybe because the shadow had left him, not been puked out—but Tony did. Remembered how it felt to be trapped in the back of his own head, able to feel his body, to know it was his, but to have no control over it. He felt it move, heard it speak, and could do nothing to prevent either. It threw him back to his worst times on the street, when he was young and new and too stupid to run. He couldn’t win if he fought and screaming made no difference because no one would hear him. He’d learned to hide, to just let things happen.

Maybe that was why he remembered; because he’d been there before.

Christ, he hurt. Ribs, back, arms, legs, brain . . .

When Henry stood, he almost laughed. Henry standing. Him on his knees. That final “MINE!” still sounded with every beat of his heart and resounded at every pulse point. The barely healed bite on his wrist throbbed.

It didn’t help that Henry’s Prince of Darkness face was essentially the same face he wore for everyday. Nothing changed; no bumpy foreheads, no road map of veins, just a thin veneer of civilization over a primal Hunger. A Hunger that seduced even as it devoured.

“MINE.”

The seduction frightened Tony more than the Hunger. Even shadow-held, he’d responded. Death had called in its marker and his answer had been to evict the current possessor, acknowledging the earlier claim. He was alive because Henry wanted him alive. He’d die when Henry decided it was time. Sure, that applied to pretty much everyone who shared a vampire’s territory, but he knew it. Personally. Hell, Biblically. He bit his lip to keep from laughing. If he started, he doubted he’d be able to stop.

Henry would never let him go.

As unpleasant as the implications were, bottom line, it had saved him.

Right on cue, Henry held out a hand.

Tony forced himself not to flinch back again.

“Tony?”