Roman wiped the sweat off his face. The new recruits lay moaning on the ground. He grunted. They acted like he'd tried to murder them. He might have gone at them a bit harder than necessary, but they needed to learn to fight. To use their new strengths to their advantage in hand-to-hand combat as well as being able to wield a weapon. Fighting meant survival. Simple as that.

A commotion broke out across from the camp and he looked to see Katyia arguing with Lucern. Her hands were flying everywhere as she spoke, the look of irritation on her face promising Lucern a world of hurt if he didn't agree with whatever she wanted. He sheathed his sword and strode over to see what was going on.

"I'm telling you if you don't let me leave this bloody tent, I am going to make you."

"Not likely." Lucern smirked. Roman groaned. Not a good thing to say to a witch now turned half vampire, half ravager. What was the man thinking?

Katyia's eyes narrowed. She took a deep breath and then blew it out in Lucern's face. He staggered back, coughing. Katyia stepped out of the tent and ran right into Roman. She looked up, ready to hurl another threat until she saw who she'd come face to face with.

"You." She crooked her finger for him to follow and stepped back inside.

Did the girl really just demand he follow her? Roman gave orders. He didn't take them. Instead of following her, he turned to check on Lucern.

The man seemed to have developed some kind of coughing fit. Roman pounded him on the back, but it didn't do any good. The more Lucern tried to take a breath, the harder he coughed. The little witch needed to fix this.

He stomped into the tent and found her standing in the middle of the floor, tapping her foot impatiently.

"Took you long enough."

"What did you do to Lucern?"

She waved the question off. "He'll be fine."

"Why, pray tell, did you put him in a coughing fit?"

She shrugged. "I needed to see you and he wouldn't let me pass."

"That's no reason to curse him!"

"I didn't curse him." A laugh bubbled out of her. "I just bespelled him. He'll be fine in a few minutes."

"Well, don't do that to my men anymore." The woman had no clue how perilous her place here was. "If you continue to show everyone how much damage you can do to them, they'll never accept you. You're a threat, and all these little displays aren't doing anything to dispel that notion."

The smile on her face slipped away and he felt like a heel, but she needed to understand. "I didn't hurt him. I just used a simple spell. It's harmless."

"It didn't look harmless. Perception, Katyia. It's all about perception. If they see you as a threat, then they'll do everything they can to protect themselves."

Roman knew his people wouldn't touch her since he'd declared her under his protection, but that didn't mean they couldn't make her feel like an outcast. Mate or not, they had to be comfortable around her for them to accept her. She had to prove herself as much as they did.

Katyia glanced toward the opening of the tent where Lucern struggled to catch his breath. She inhaled deeply, closed her eyes, and when she opened them, Lucern was standing upright, breathing normally.

"I truly meant no harm." She sounded contrite. "I...I'm sorry."

"You don't apologize often, do you?" he asked.

"No, but I rarely do things that need an apology. I don't know what's come over me here."

Roman caught her up in a hug. She looked lost and his instincts drove him to comfort her. "You're just adjusting to everything and your emotions are heightened right now. Just don't do anything else that might look like you're trying to hurt someone."

She nodded, her face buried in his shirt.

"What did you need to see me about?"

She pulled away from him and he let her go, but his arms twitched to hold on to her. "I was thinking about your uncle. You said something about witches being there too?"

He nodded. "Yes, my uncle safeguards himself well."

"I can't promise to help you until I see the place and get a feel for the magic protecting it. I need to go there, physically touch the wards he has up."

Roman sucked in a breath. The thought of taking her anywhere near that place sent him to a dark place. "No."

She looked up, startled at the vehemence in his tone. "It's the only way I can help you, Roman."

"It's too dangerous." His teeth clenched. Mind made up, he glared her down. She wasn't getting anywhere near that place.

"Then how did you expect me to help you?" she asked, her nose scrunching in irritation. "Just whip up a magical brew in a pot and say voila, here you go, insta-magic? It doesn't work like that. I have to get a feel for the types of wards and spells that are used to create the barriers in order to counter them. To do that, I need direct contact with them."

"No."

"What the hell is your problem?" she shouted. "Do you want my help or not?"

"Of course he does." Greggor closed the tent flap behind him as he came in. "He just doesn't want to put you in danger. My brother doesn't always use his words."

"He hardly ever uses his words except to get bossy," Katyia grouched.

Greggor laughed. "He's a good man, just a little surly."

"I am not surly," Roman bit out.

"Yes, you are," Katyia told him. "You are a mean, surly bastard who needs to make up your mind about what you want."

"Oh, I know exactly what I want." And he did. He wanted Katyia. He'd realized that while he worked some of his stress off on the training field.

She blew out a breath, her expression clearly stating she was dealing with a petulant child. "Then why are you being so obstinate?"

"I'm not." He poked at the fire. "My uncle's stronghold is heavily guarded. We wouldn't get within miles of it without being detected. I won't risk your safety."

"Can you get in without my help?"

Roman sighed. "No."

"Then let me do this."

"No. It's one thing for you to help us with potions, but quite another to put yourself in danger. I won't allow it."

"You won't allow it?" she seethed. "It's not up to you, brute."

Greggor poked him in the ribs with an elbow, reminding him of the conversation they'd had earlier today. If he took this choice away from her, was he any better than everyone else who'd done that? Was her happiness more important than her safety?

"Can you make a potion or something to hide us from prying eyes outside their wards?" Greggor asked. Roman shot him a withering stare which his brother ignored.

"A cloaking spell is easy enough. The potion will taste horrid, though."

"Is there any chance one of my uncle's witches could detect your magic and see through it?" Roman asked.

"There's always a chance, but it's not likely. Magic is funny. It always leaves a residue, but you have to be looking for it to detect it. If they aren't looking for my magic specifically, they shouldn't even know we are there."

"We would be there with her, Roman." Greggor looked him in the eyes, his own earnest. "She'll be safe."

"And it might go a long way to showing all these people I mean them no harm." Katyia's voice turned soft, quiet. "I need to do this, Roman. Please."

Roman wanted to shout with frustration. Greggor gave her a viable option Roman was hard pressed to argue with. Damn his hide.

"Fine." He forced the word out.

"See, brute, that wasn't so hard, now, was it?"

"Brute?" Greggor asked curiously.

"He reminds me of a brute, always using brute force to get what he wants."

His brother let out a laugh to rival a hyena's. He wanted to punch him.

"That about sums him up."

"I thought so too." Katyia grinned.

"Get out." Roman pointed toward the tent opening. "Get out, now."

His brother chuckled, but obliged him. Roman turned his glower on the grinning woman in front of him.

"Don't glare like that." She walked to stand by the fire. "Your face might freeze, and then what would people say?"

"My face isn't going to freeze."

"You sure about that?" She wiggled her fingers, her smile wicked.

The chuckle slipped out, unbidden. She looked ridiculous standing there waving her fingers around threateningly, all the while smiling like a she-devil minx.

"See? Laughing isn't so hard either."

Roman let out a long suffering sigh. "You enjoy testing my patience, don't you?"

"Strangely, yes."

The laughter in her eyes eased some of the tension in him. His muscles relaxed when he inhaled her scent of warm vanilla. Roman fought the urge to haul her into his arms and kiss her. He needed to talk to her about the conversation with the boy this morning, but first she needed to eat.

"Wait here until I return." He left before she could refuse. Maeve, the camp cook, had been dishing out some kind of stew earlier. He grabbed two bowls and a hunk of bread while he waited his turn in line. The old woman filled his bowls without looking up. He'd rescued her from a dungeon about ten years ago. She hadn't said a word in all that time. He thanked her and hurried back to his tent. When he saw Lucern talking to Katyia, he put wings on his feet.

"It's all right, girl," Lucern said just as Roman arrived. "No harm done."

"Truly, it's a prank I used to play on my brothers all the time. It wouldn't have hurt you."

The woman did not know how to stay put. Roman nodded to Lucern. The man was being a good sport about it, at least.

Lucern waved Katyia's apologies off. "I'll leave you two to your meal."

Roman ushered her back inside, handing her a bowl of stew and half the bread. He set his down and then collected cups and a jug of water before returning to where she now sat.

"Thank you," she murmured and sniffed at the bowl. "What is this?"

"No idea." He took a bite and still couldn't identify what was actually in the stew. No one questioned Maeve. They just took their food and ate.

"Chewy." Katyia made a face. Roman knew she was used to eating more extravagant fare, but it was the best they could do. His gaze traveled over her. She still wore her bloodstained clothes. He'd send someone to the Regent's manor to collect some of her clothes. They'd sent her here in a nightgown. She had to be freezing. Something he should have thought of earlier when he'd taken her for a walk. Vampires didn't feel the cold like a human. They could bear it, but without proper clothes, they could only take the cold for so long.

He stood and fetched her one of his woolen shirts. He'd ask around to see if he could find some pants to put on until he could collect her clothes. "Here, this should be warmer than that shift. And cleaner."

She took it, a grateful smile on her lips. "Turn around."

"What?"

"Turn around," she repeated. "So I can change."

He turned on his heel, his face warm. He heard clothes rustling and couldn't resist the urge to peek. What he saw set his blood boiling. A maze of crisscrosses covered her back. He knew exactly what they were. Whip marks. Someone had beaten her many, many times. A low, feral growl roared to life and she jumped, startled. He moved without thinking, his hands tracing the lines.

She gasped, but didn't move. Her body turned a startling shade of crimson, a full body blush. "I told you to turn around!"

"Who did this to you?"

"It doesn't matter." Were it not for his vampire hearing, he wouldn't have heard her whispered reply.

"Yes, Katyia, this matters." His fingers ran over the deep marks, his fury mounting with each new scar. Not an inch of her flesh had been spared. Who would do this to another person?

"I don't want to talk about it." She stepped away from him and pulled his shirt on as quickly as she could. "Please."

His lips thinned. As much as he didn't want to upset her, she was going to tell him about those scars. He took her arm and escorted her back to their meal. She let out a sigh of relief, assuming he was letting her have her way.

The boy he'd met this morning had said Katyia needed protecting, but Roman hadn't gotten to question him on it. Katyia's need to feed had taken precedence. The scars she carried on her back had to be what the child had been talking about.

"Tell me about your scars."

"Why won't you just leave it alone?" Distressed, her hand shook when she picked up her cup of water. "None of that matters anymore."

He took the cup from her and then encased her tiny hands in his own. "Who did this to you? Was it your father?"

"God no!" she denied. "My father would never lay a hand on me."

"Then who?" he persisted. "Your stepmother?"

The way she tensed up gave him his answer. He wanted to hunt the woman down, string her up, and then strip the flesh from her back just as she'd done with Katyia.

"My mother didn't like to be disobeyed or made to look a fool of in front of her friends."

"Don't call her that again." Roman pulled her closer, hugging her to his side. "She's doesn't deserve the title."

Katyia curled into him, her words slow, but she began to talk. "I could never please her. When I did something she didn't like, I was punished. Naughty children had to learn their lessons. Afterwards, Susan would come and treat my wounds. She took care of me."

"That's why you didn't want to feed from her?" he asked, understanding her severe reaction.

Katyia nodded. "She was our nanny, but she always looked out for me the most. I head Susan arguing with my mother once over the whippings. She threatened to go to my father if they continued."

"What happened?"

"Olivia told her she was free to tell anyone she wanted, but Susan should remember her own children's welfare before she concerned herself with me. It was a veiled threat even I understood at that age. Tattle about the punishments, and Susan's children would suffer for it."

"Bitch."

Katyia laughed, bitter. "She is that and more."

Roman's anger intensified. What kind of person would beat a child? If he did nothing else, he'd make sure she was held accountable for what she'd made his mate suffer through.

His mate. He rolled the words around. The more he said it, the more right it felt. She chipped away at the ice he'd put around his heart, and it scared him. If he let himself care and then he lost her, Roman didn't think he could bear it. Not after everything else he'd already lost.

"No one will ever hurt you again," he vowed, pulling her tighter. "Now eat. Then we'll go get you fed for the night."

She nodded and picked her food back up. Roman watched her, his heart clenching at how vulnerable and young she looked. No matter what he might feel about her or not, no one was ever going to lay another finger on her. She'd suffered enough.

After they'd walked back from the feeders' housing, Roman led her to the river. He waited patiently while she washed off in the freezing waters. Cold didn't bother them as much as it would a human. She'd taken the soap and washcloth gratefully. He'd stood guard while she cleaned up, and it was only when he heard her cursing that he looked over his shoulder. A laugh burst forth when he saw her leaning haphazardly trying to wash her hair and keep from actually falling in the river. The girl had a mouth on her, that was for sure. It must have been the influence of her brothers. He couldn't imagine the guards saying such words within distance of her.

A startled cry broke free and he watched as she fell. The loud splash and the squeal that followed sent him running. Cold might not bother them, but even they were susceptible to hyperthermia if they got cold enough. He reached in and plucked her out, hauling her up, spluttering and cursing worse than any soldier he'd ever heard.

"Calm yourself," he ordered when she struggled against him, her naked flesh pressed solidly along his frame. He closed his eyes to try to stem the images flashing in front of them. He'd scare her if she knew the carnal images flooding his mind.

"I'm freezing!" she wailed.

"You fell in an ice cold river. I'd be surprised if you weren't freezing." A chuckle slipped past his lips and she snarled at him.

"This isn't funny."

"You're right," he agreed. "It's not funny, it's hilarious."

Her cursing started again and he swatted her on the ass. "Stop that. Where did you learn to say such things? It's not at all proper for a lady."

She let out a hysterical laugh. "I'm not a lady, though, am I? I'm just the bastard daughter of the Regent who he threw away."

Roman pulled her close, his arms tightening around her. Sobs broke free and she held on to him, her tears mixing with the river water running down her face. He held her while she let out her anger, her pain, her rage. The fall had been the last straw for her. He'd been waiting for this all day. All new turns eventually broke down and railed at the unfairness of it all. Even the ones who took to being a vampire like a duck to water. No one wanted to live off other people for the rest of their lives. Humans weren't wired like that. Naturally born vampires suffered from no such dilemma. Humans were food, plain and simple. They respected their food, took care of them like cherished family members, but they understood their place in the grand scheme of the food chain.

For Katyia, she was dealing with a little more than that realization. She dealt with her family's betrayal, her turning, and her ravager blood. That, more than anything, was going to be hard for her to accept, but he knew with time, she would. They all did, eventually.

"Come, little kitten, let's get you warm." He picked her up and carried her back to his tent, where he sat her down in front of the fire and draped a heavy fur over her. He built up the fire so it would give off more heat. Katyia needed heat as much to warm her body as to stave off shock. He could see it trying to overtake her. She'd had a hell of a day, and he was surprised she'd held up for as long as she did.

He took several furs off a stack in the corner and began to make up the bed. He'd tossed a coarse blanket over her last night because she'd been covered in blood. When he turned back to her, he saw her glancing around, frowning. "Why are you frowning now?"

"This is your tent?" She cast her hand outward, sweeping the length of the room.

"Aye."

Her frown deepened. "Where is my tent?"

"Your tent?"

"The place I'm sleeping tonight?" Sarcasm rolled off her tongue and he grinned. She was coming back around to the spitfire he'd beheld all day.

"Here, Katyia. You are sleeping in my tent."

"I most certainly am not." Outrage flashed in her eyes.

"Why not?" he countered, not even trying to suppress the chuckle that escaped.

"Because...well, because it's not proper!"

He walked over, picked her up, and then deposited her on the bed, quickly stripping himself and joining her. He had her pulled tight and covered them with furs before she had time to blink. "Be still, woman. I am not going to harm you."

"Let me go." The words tumbled out, all rushed and hurried. He heard panic in the jumbled words. She struggled and he threw a leg over both of hers, only caring about how cold she was. He ignored his body's reaction to her.

"No, Katyia. Your body needs heat, and the best way to get you warm is skin to skin. You're already trying to go into shock, so let's not add hypothermia as well."

She went still, his words registering through her panic.

"See?" he told her a few minutes later. "You're already getting warmer." So was he, unfortunately. His body could only stand so much before it reacted to her closeness. He could feel himself growing hard and bit back a groan when she shifted, inadvertently rubbing against him.

"Yes," she agreed, her voice small and soft. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." She shifted again and he closed his eyes, close to pain.

"So tomorrow, you'll take me to my own tent?"

"No. You'll stay in mine."

"Why?"

"Because everyone out there wants you dead. You're safer here with me."

"But what if I don't want to be here?"

"Too bad." He leaned down, his mouth grazing her ear. "You're stuck here with me. Now go to sleep, little one. I think we've both had enough for one day."

She quieted a few minutes later, her breathing evening out. He lay there for a long time later, sleep eluding him, only one thought running through his head.

His mate.

But did he want her?