And Quen had either been bitten and left unclaimed like me, or bitten and claimed by Piscary. As I stared in pity at the man, I decided he had a right to be afraid.

Seeing my understanding, Quen rose smoothly to his feet. Ivy tensed, and I raised my hand to tell her it was all right. “I don’t know if the bite has bound me to him or not,” Quen said, the evenness of his voice failing to hide the fear in him. “I can’t risk Mr. Kalamack relying on me. I might … be distracted at a sensitive moment.”

Waves of bliss and promises of pleasure coming from that bite might indeed be a large distraction, even in the midst of a fight. Pity pulled me forward. Tracks of sweat marred his lightly wrinkled face. He was as old as my father would be if he were still alive, with the strength of a twenty-year-old and the sturdiness only maturity imparted.

“Has any other vamp made your scar tingle?” I asked him, thinking it was a really personal question, but he had come to me.

Never dropping my gaze, he said, “I’ve yet to get into a situation where it might.”

“Rache?” Jenks called, and there was a clatter of wings as he dropped to hover beside me.

“Then I don’t know if Piscary bound you or not,” I said, then froze as I realized my scar was tingling, sending hints of deeper feelings to bring me to a wide-eyed alertness. Quen stiffened. Our eyes met, and I knew by his frightened look that he was feeling it too.

“Rache!” Jenks shouted, his wings red as he got in my face and forced me to back up. “Quen isn’t the only one with a problem here!”

I followed his frightened gaze behind me to Ivy. “Oh … crap,” I whispered.

Ivy had pressed herself into a corner, her robe falling open to show her black silk nightgown. Her awareness was lost, black eyes unseeing as her mouth worked. I froze, not knowing what was going on.

“Get him out of here,” she whispered, a bead of saliva dropping from her teeth. “Oh, God, Rachel. He’s not bound to anyone. Piscary … He’s in my head.” She took a gasping breath. “He wants me to take him. I don’t know if I can stop. Get Quen out of here!”

I stared, not knowing what to do.

“Get him out of my head!” she moaned. “Get him out!” Horrified, I watched her slide down the wall to huddle with her hands over her ears. “Get him out!”

Heart pounding, I spun to Quen. My neck was a flaming mass of promise. I could see by his expression that his scar was alight and flaming. God help me, it felt good.

“Get the door,” I said to Jenks. Grabbing Quen’s arm, I pulled him into the hallway. From behind us came a frightening guttural groan. I broke into a run, dragging Quen behind me. Quen stiffened when we entered the sanctuary, breaking my hold.