Page 64 of Bloodhunter

And it was only when I felt a certain amount of relief athis words that I realized how scared I was of Shane Copas.

Pathetic, but true.

“It’s said,” Angus went on, his voice rough and deep andsteady, “that hunters are connected somehow. The way vampires are connected.Vampires can’t kill each other. They can’t kill themselves, either. Don’t worryabout Copas.”

I said nothing.

“Even if you don’t trust me to take care of the situation,”he continued, “trust the fact that hunters have a connection. He won’t hurtyou.”

“If he tries,” I said, after a while “I’ll have to defendmyself.”

I could feel his curious stare. “Of course you will. Whywouldn’t you?”

“I gave him to Amias.”

“Ah,” he said. “So you think you’ve hurt him enough.”

“I guess.” I lay my head back against the seat and closed myeyes, and despite the filth on my clothes and body and the worry on my mind, Ifell asleep in the warm, dark, secure cave of Angus Stark’s truck cab.

I woke up, startled and struggling, when Angus pulled me outof the truck and into his arms. “Settle down,” he said, striding with me towardthe front door.

Angus was a domineering brute, but after a moment ofbleary-eyed acknowledgment of that fact, I snuggled against his warm chest andlet him pack me into the silent, sleeping house.

He set me on my bed, then strode into the little en suitewashroom. I yawned, nearly cracking my jaw, and heard the shower start. He cameback out and stood with his hands on his hips, staring at me.

“Water’s getting hot,” he said, finally. “Go clean up so youcan get some sleep.”

I nodded. “Angus…thank you.”

He gave me a nod, then turned and stomped from the bedroom,angrier than when he’d gone in. I didn’t have the energy to try to figure himout, so I shrugged, grabbed some clean clothes, and headed for the bathroom. Itwas going to take me a good long while to scrub that hard night off my body.

And I took my time, because I wasn’t looking forward tolying alone in that bed.

When I finally climbed under the covers, clean and so very,very tired, I was sure I’d drift right to sleep.

But after forty-five minutes of exhausted wakefulness, Idragged a pile of covers and my pillows to the closet and pulled the door shutafter me.

Everyone—and everything—was shut out, and I was safe.

I slept.

Strangely enough, I dreamed not of Angus and the potentialscorching hot sex, nor of Copas and my perceived betrayal, nor even of my ownbrokenness and the fact that I’d done something too awful to contemplate inprotecting Amias.

I dreamed of Rhys Graver and the foam-carrying incubus, who,in my dreams, were one and the same.

When I awakened, I opened my eyes to find the closet dooropen and Angus crouched in the doorway, watching me. “Trin,” he said, when Iopened my eyes. His voice was calm, but his eyes were mournful.

I sat up, angry because I could feel the heat ofembarrassment climbing my cheeks. I glared at him. “What?”

He stood. “Shane’s back, honey.”

“Okay,” I muttered. “He’s alive. He’s alive.” I shoved thecovers aside and jumped to my feet, and he stood aside as I strode past him.“What time is it?”

“A little after noon.”

I rubbed my arms, then turned to look at him, almost afraidto ask the question but needing to hear the answer more than anything. “Ishe…?”

He shrugged, then grinned. “He’s raging, but he’s novampire.”