My mind wanders back to Hazel. Santiago has promised to take me to her, too, to meet my nephew, but he has yet to deliver. He insists he’ll be the one to bring me once he has some time. Once things have quieted. Once everything is safe. And seeing as how Hazel ran away from The Society, ran off on a Sovereign Son, he hasn’t said as much, but I know it won’t look good for him if they find out he knows where she is but hasn’t brought her back.

But then there is the guardianship of Evangeline. If she’s in our care, my mother and brother can’t hurt her and he’s willing to do that for me. He’s put everything in motion already.

I bite the inside of my lip and think about Abel and what he’d said about Eva. What he’d do once he had guardianship which he assumed, since my father lay dying in a coma, was inevitable. He’d said those things to manipulate me into cooperating. He is manipulative. But is he capable of murder like Santiago believes?

The lipstick would prove Santiago right.

“There you are.”

I startle, turning to find Santiago standing in the doorway. He’s still fully dressed. He must have just gotten home. I smile as he closes the door and comes up behind me. He kisses my cheek and wraps one arm around me, hand over my stomach. I look at that hand. At how big it is. How strong. How possessive.

I’m not showing yet, but I’ve put on a few pounds. I feel it when I put on jeans, not to mention my boobs are fuller. Santiago seems pleased by both.

“What are you doing here in the dark?” he asks, nuzzling his chin against the back of my ear.

“I’m not in the dark,” I say, melting into his touch. He’s so warm and big and safe.

The instant I think that last part I close my eyes to ward off the thoughts that begin their incessant circling again.

But when his hand dips lower and slides under my nightie and into the lace of my panties, all thoughts are banished. I turn my head a little, enough to feel his breath on me, enough to open my mouth and take his tongue when he kisses me.

We’ve always had this insane attraction, Santiago and I. This fiery passion for each other.

“Always wet for me, my sweet Ivy.”

I can’t help but remember when he called me Poison Ivy.

He closes his other hand over my breast, the lace rough against my hard nipple as he kneads it, the fingers of his other hand still working my clit. “So very wet.”