I can’t think of anyone it could be with Aiden except Tim. I feel a rush of anger at his presumption. He’s stolen my role. It is my place to lead my Mate there. Did he think that I wouldn’t? That’s Tim, though. No patience, unless it’s for horses.I can’t just go back to my bed, not now. I find my slippers and a dressing-gown, and tiptoe down to the kitchen. There is a piece of paper with my name on it, lying on the kitchen table. I’m sure of what it will say before I even unfold it, but the last two words catch my breath. I don’t think either of us have said those words aloud yet, not to each other.I sink into a chair, the paper in my hands. My mind is no longer in the room. It is out at the valley where the other half of my whole is facing his future.It was dawn, the second time I stood in the mouth of the valley. I was clutching Toby’s hand, trying to lend him courage. We hadn’t t

I allow myself to be ever so slightly smug about it when Tony also gives Tim a reaming over having taken Aiden off to the valley. Most of the attention is on Aiden, though, and he is embarrassed and a little shy about that. Regardless of the rights and wrongs of who should or should not have done what, the outcome of Aiden’s success is that nobody doubts him any more. He is enfolded into the family, and any further questions are for understanding, not for proof of his intentions. The kids don’t have nearly long enough with their new brother to satisfy them before they are packed off to school, from their point of view. From the adult’s side of things, it is plenty long enough to be watching the twins with hawk-like eyes, to be sure neither of them try to use Aiden’s new tokens. He asks, rather hesitantly, if he might leave his sword and shield here at Blackmarsh, because he doesn’t think the security at his apartment is good enough. The rest of us all look at each other, and

“Um… we thought… you could be our Alpha?” I know right away that Zac’s question is not one Aiden wants to hear, and so I speak up. “I’m sorry, I know this is a difficult situation for you, but we both of us have responsibilities in London at the moment.” Being the sympathetic one is not something that comes easily to me, although the wash of gratitude and pride I can feel from Aiden makes me feel twenty feet tall. Next time, if there is a next time, he can be the good cop. “The vampire problem is more than just Walther Sutcliffe,” Aiden adds. “I need to be hunting more than one of them down, not spending all my time here. Don’t worry, I’m not the best fighter Blackmarsh has. There won’t be any shortage of protection.” “Can’t we just tell people Aiden’s our Alpha, to stop Robert and the others coming back, ‘til we can find someone strong enough?” pipes up the talkative teenager, and the pleased reaction I’ve been sensing from Aiden a

Waking up with my head on Aiden’s shoulder is not quite enough to compensate for the back-ache and cricked neck I have as a result of sleeping so long in the car. The journey has taken far longer than it should have done, because of motorway closures following an accident. It leaves us no time now to talk. Maybe our kiss would have become something more, but Aiden will be late for class. I make him promise to sleep at his place tonight, so he gets some proper rest.Hughes drives me on home after dropping Aiden off. I’m not sleepy any more, and the rumbling of the car is the sort of white noise that’s good for thinking. I feel as if I have had no time to draw breath since before the polo match, and I know, at some point, that I will have to have a good talking-to with myself.I have always been one to think before acting. Instincts are primitive things, not well suited to the complexities of modern human life. We are predisposed to believe things that

This is the National Gallery, I think. I can’t remember why we decided to come. Aiden’s hand is warm in mine as we wander through the corridors. Brian never did hold hands in public. Cartoon sketches fill every ornate and gilded frame, splashy and incomplete. Around the next corner should be the portrait gallery. When we turn to look, every painting is Cavendish, spray-painted onto the walls. “It’s okay,” Aiden says. “He knows you’re mine now. You’ll be safe. Look, do you like them? I painted them myself.” Cavendish’s eyes are everywhere, staring at me. I remember those eyes, looking through me, snaring my mind and my heart with their gaze. I wait for them to draw my soul out and bind me to him, to entice me to dance willingly to his whims and into his arms. I hate myself for the longing I feel, for wanting the freedom of giving myself up completely into the will of another. It feels as if I have walked through a cold shower when nothing happens. The eyes are