"Putting distance between yourself and Lucius isn't the answer, you know?"

I bunched my hands into fists by my sides as Harper and I walked through Battersea Park, with the imposing cylindrical towers of the power station looming over the top of the tree line ahead of us. In the distance they looked like thin ghostly giants, sweeping their watchful glare across the park and keeping an eye on all who dared to venture into this lush oasis, located in the midst of the grey urban jungle of the city.

Spring may have brought with it bursts of bluebells and explosions of tulips, but the nights were still full of winter chill, almost as if it was stubbornly refusing to give up its throne for the next season to take its rightful place for the next few months. Despite the cold night air that bit cruelly at faces and fingers, there was still a few joggers about, still a few people taking a leisurely walk before the gates were closed at ten-thirty.

We were making our way towards the river that bordered the north side of the park and power station, with the intention of picking up some poor vagrant bastard or with luck, some other poor bastard who thought they might try their luck picking on a couple of vampires down near the water's edge. My body had hungered for blood sooner than usual, no doubt because the cleansing of Amy had exhausted whatever energy supplies I had left, but truth be told, there were closer places to hunt than Battersea Park.

I was running away, without actually running away and I hated myself for it. I hated avoiding Lucius because I knew it didn't feel right to avoid him. All this time I had spent with him never that far from my side, never far from my vigilant eyes, always heeding Garrick's words to look after him and yet all the while knowing that I would have done that regardless, because the little boy had come to mean more to me than I could have ever imagined. Being apart from him when Brandon had captured me had hurt so bad it had felt like a physical pain, a throbbing, grinding ache in the base of my stomach, a pounding heart-wrenching burn in my chest. Locked into my contract with Josiah and without Harper to lean on, Lucius had been the one thing keeping me going, the one thing that I could count on, when it seemed I had nothing left but him. There was no denying it; the strange little boy with the terrifying gift had become a part of me.

Not once had I ever sensed I might be a danger to him. Even in those early days, when he'd tormented me with dark dreams and hideous visions, I'd never imagined that I could ever hurt him. And yet now, here I was, the one person who'd vowed to protect him, apparently also the one person destined to end his life.

Destined. 

When said out loud, the word seemed to leave a bad taste in my mouth, like that final acidic burn of bile that you would cough up once there was nothing left in your stomach to vomit into the toilet bowl. It was a cruel pretense, a word meant to conjure pride and honour, yet all the while concealing a dark, nasty secret behind the smile, like a wolf in sheep's clothing.

Harper was right, of course. Putting distance between myself and Lucius wasn't the answer, but right now, it was all I had. I didn't know what the hell I was supposed to do. The night of the second moon, I had discovered, was just over a week away – a blue moon, to be more precise – and if it wasn't for the fact that I knew I still had a duty to protect Lucius, I think I might have travelled halfway across the world to get away from him in fear of what I might be capable of.

I'd walked on for a few metres before realising that Harper's footsteps were not in tandem with my own and turning back, I saw that he had stopped in the middle of the path, with his hands shoved into the tops of his jean pockets and one dark eyebrow raised, as if waiting expectantly for my response and clearly insistent that he get one.

My shoulders slumped as I looked at him, the ache rippling down my back and along the hardened ridges that ran parallel to my spine. "I know," I said. "But what else can I do?"

Closing the distance between us, he gripped my chin between his thumb and forefinger and forced my gaze to meet his. "You're not going to harm the kid, Megan. You've been around him long enough without managing to hurt him. I don't think reading Benjamin's journal is suddenly going to make you flip out and kill Lucius. It doesn't work that way. Words don't have that kind of power."

"No, but I do, apparently," I replied, leaning into him so I could rest my head on his chest. My hands reached inside his jacket, slipping easily around his waist and feeling the hard contours of his body under my fingertips. I needed the familiarity of his embrace. I needed to feel normal, just for a frozen moment in time, when I could say to hell with everything, because right now I have this, I have him. He sighed, a deep contented sigh that I felt in the rise and fall of his chest and he wrapped his arms around me, hugging me tighter against him. The warm scratch of his beard made me smile as his lips brushed my forehead, his fingers tangling in my hair and sending tiny buzzes of pleasure tingling through my scalp.

Lifting my head, my mouth found his throat and I nuzzled against his skin, inhaling his musky scent and marveling at how that one point on his body always smelt so good and always tasted even better. I could have spent a lifetime with my face nestled in the crook of Harper Cain's neck and it would never have been enough. I allowed myself a small taste, pressing my lips against him and running my tongue gently over his skin, knowing that it would be a fleeting moment that would be over all too soon. His grip on the handful of my hair tightened as his body stiffened against mine and then there was that sigh again, this time reluctantly telling me he also knew the moment was just that – a moment, nothing more.

He chuckled softly, a low throaty sound that rippled deliciously into my ears and made the feeling of his hard body against mine all the more tempting and torturous.

"What's so funny?" I asked.

Tugging on my hair, he pulled my head back so he could look into my eyes once again.

"Just remembering a time when we didn't care so much about prying eyes," he murmured, his lips curling up into an arrogant smile. "You know, a certain car lot after hours, your back pressed up against your Audi, skirt up around your thighs. You were brazen as hell then. So was I, as a matter of fact."

I grinned, rolling my eyes as my fingers danced dangerously close to the hem of his t-shirt, grazing the smooth skin at the base of his spine. "Yeah, well, you had an ulterior motive, if I remember rightly. And anyway, I've no doubt that you've always been brazen. I think it's in your genes."

"Nope, I was a preacher's son, remember?" He groaned as my hand found the small of his back and tickled the skin there in slow, languid circles. "But there is something in my other jeans that's definitely brazen right now."

Laughing, I pressed my face into his neck again, laying my palms flat against his back as I held him close. "If only," I said. It was my turn to sigh.

He clicked his tongue against his teeth and sniffed. "Well...." he said, "I've always thought that the dark cover of a copse of trees could hide a multitude of sins and although when together our sinning pretty much borders on eternal damnation, I reckon we could get away with it. And besides, if anyone bothers us, we can always kill them."

"Hmm, sex and death? Well now there's a tempting combination."

"See? I got it all covered, baby."

I pulled away so I could look up at him. "Baby? Watch it, Cain, your Massachusetts is showing."

Narrowing his eyes, he grabbed hold of the lapels of my jacket. "Hey, you love my Massachusetts. It's what caught your interest in the first place. Where are you from? I love your accent," he said, raising his pitch higher so he could mimic my voice from the first time we met.

I slapped his arm playfully. "I never said I loved your accent. God, you make it sound like I was fawning all over you."

"Come on, you have to admit, you did a little."

My mouth dropped open as I stared at him, knowing that he was goading me but feeling the embers burning inside regardless. His arrogance turned me on. It always had and damn it if he didn't know it too. My interest had been piqued by his accent when I'd heard it, that was true, but it was his cocky, supercilious aura that had lured me in, that conceited overconfidence in his own appeal that had turned my head and lit the fire.

"You know, if this is your way to get me to go all al-fresco, you're really going the wrong way about it."

Inclining his head slightly, he smirked. "I don't think so, do you?"

And with that he turned and sauntered off, heading for the dark shadows that congregated under the thick copse of trees on our right and not once did he look back to see if I was following him.

I glanced around to see if anyone was coming this way. No one was.

"Fuck," I hissed.

*****

The thick covering of hardy evergreens was enough to render the space underneath them so dark that it was unlikely that any human without a torch could see whatever lurked there under the trees until they were practically right upon them. Of course, the same wouldn't have applied to the Varúlfur but thankfully we hadn't detected any strong scent of them since we'd entered the park. And the same also didn't apply to me and once my eyes had quickly adjusted to the change in light, I spotted Harper leaning against the trunk of a large tree, perhaps not quite as far away from the path as I had hoped. Still, this was Harper we were talking about and if there was someone who would dare you to abandon all sense of propriety and modesty, it was most definitely going to be him.

Despite the cool of the shadows, the heat of Harper's eyes upon me reminded me of the claustrophobic heat of summers in the city, stepping out from air-conditioned buildings and feeling the sun instantly flush your cheeks and dampen your back. Raking his gaze over me from under long-lashed lids, his attention was intense and all-consuming and any concerns about being discovered were washed away by images of his mouth crushed against mine, of his hands gripping my thighs.

I stopped just inches in front of him and stood there for a moment, with neither of us touching the other and yet feeling the burn of his touch over every inch of my skin.

"Bastard," I muttered.

Without offering up a reply, he reached out and brushed my hair back off my shoulder, exposing my throat. The tickle of the cold air on my flesh did nothing to dampen the fire as he traced a line with his fingertips just above the collar of my shirt, down to the open V where the top two buttons were already undone. He deftly unbuttoned the next one and the next, stopping only briefly to caress the soft swell of my breast above the line of my bra. When all the buttons were undone, he pulled the shirt open and I locked eyes with him, daring him to go further, needing him to go further.

In silent acceptance of the challenge, he rolled his thumb over my already-hardened nipple, smiling a small wicked smile when I couldn't stop the short gasp of breath escaping from my slightly parted lips. Increasing the pressure as he teased it again and again through the fabric of my bra, I knew the game was still on, he was still goading me, trying to provoke a reaction, trying to make me reach out and touch him. To show him how much I craved him.

And I did crave him. I craved him here, out here where anyone could find us. I craved him like I had the first time, reveling in the thrill of our illicit encounter outside my old office building. I craved him like I had the first time he took me hunting, when I'd been so full of hate and hunger and desire that I didn't know whether I wanted to kill him or fuck him.

He lowered his head to my breast and I watched half-hypnotised as he pushed the silky fabric out of the way and covered my nipple with his mouth, massaging it with soft strokes of his tongue that soon became more insistent, more unrelenting. I did touch him then, entangling my fingers into his hair and holding him there, not wanting him to release me. I almost moaned in frustration when he pulled away, only for him to cover my other breast with fervent kisses as his hand travelled over my stomach, snapping the button open on my jeans and pulling on the stubborn zipper. Tugging on the soft denim, he eased my jeans partway down my thighs and I closed my eyes for a second, willing him to touch me where I ached for him the most.

When he slipped his hand between my legs on the outside of my underwear, the jolt was instantaneous, almost as if I hadn't felt him there so many times before. The dull throbbing quickly increased to something more persistent and I pushed my hips forward instinctively as he stroked me, his fingers expertly moving in small firm circular motions that made me bunch my fists into his hair even tighter. God, he hadn't even touched me properly there and I already I was lost, feeling the dampness pool between my thighs and my legs weakening.

"Mmmm," he murmured against my breast and the vibrations tingled against the hardened tender flesh. "Always so ready." His mouth covered me again and he sucked harder, simultaneously pushing aside the thin fabric of my underwear and sliding his fingers over the spot that had been literally screaming out for him since I'd seen him waiting for me under the trees.

From somewhere out on the path, I heard soft voices approaching, a woman's laughter peeling through the night air and footsteps getting closer and closer. For a moment, he stiffened, hesitating against my skin, his fingers stopping in their exquisite teasing.

"No," I whispered. "Don't stop. Please, not now."

Shooting me a delicious grin, he continued, this time pushing his finger easily inside, an action that made me groan and him chuckle triumphantly. He knew he'd won, probably knew it from the moment he walked away, maybe even before that and I don't know why I ever thought I could pretend to resist him. He was my drug, my one true vice and I'd been hooked from the very start. One hit was all it had ever taken to get me utterly and hopelessly addicted and my need for him was stronger than it had ever been. I didn't care about the people walking close by, I didn't care that we might be discovered, instead I just urged him on, my hips moving to the rhythm of his finger, which he withdrew slightly only to replace it with two.

"Damn, Harper," I hissed. I wasn't sure for how much longer I could hold on. The voices and footsteps faded away and all that was left was just him and me and the sound of my ragged breathing, as he fucked me with just his hand. His other hand snaked behind my neck, pulling me towards him, his mouth crushing against mine possessively. The kiss was hard and deep and I felt myself unravelling as his tongue found mine, as I found the sharp points of his incisors with my own. Visions of him biting me, of me biting him and tasting that hot rush of blood in my mouth had me groaning against his lips and my hand caressed his chest down to his toned stomach, before hungrily reaching for the hardness between his legs.

With a raw, guttural moan, he sucked hard on my tongue, nipping at my bottom lip, which already felt swollen and tender from the force of his kisses. Breaking away, his eyes greedily coveted my face.

"Damn, I miss this," he confessed, punctuating his words with even more voracious kisses. "I miss walking the fucking tightrope with you, like we did when we first met. I miss the way you are when you're like this."

"And how am I, exactly?" I said, my voice sounding hoarse and husky as I tried to catch my breath.

"Nervous, scared even. I used to feel it rolling off of you in waves and it wasn't that which turned me on, it was the fact you did it anyway, that despite everything you let your desire control you. You got off on the thrill of it as much as I did. Don't get me wrong, I love how it is now, but sometimes I just want to live dangerously with you, sometimes I just need this so fucking badly, you know?"

And I did know. Because I needed it too. Right then, I needed it, him, this, us.

Hooking my fingers over his waistband, I snapped open the buttons of his flies, shoving my hand roughly into the top of his pants, that's how impatient I was to feel him. His intake of breath told me my enthusiasm was a little unexpected, but the dark glint in his eyes told me it wasn't unwelcome. He stirred instantly in my hand, twitching against my palm and I was overwhelmed with the desperate need to look down and see my fingers wrapped around his firm length. As if he'd read my mind, he suddenly grabbed hold of his jeans and pushed them down his thighs a little, his pants with them, but before I could do anything more, he gripped hold of me and whirled me round, pushing me up against the tree. The roughness of the bark against my exposed front sent a wave of new sensations coursing over my skin, but I was grateful at least that I was still wearing my bra.

Pushing his body up against my back, I felt his hot breath on my neck, the hardness of his erection pressed against the base of my spine and for a moment, my head spun with a ripple of dizziness that forced me to close my eyes and press my palms against the cool trunk to steady myself. It took just a couple of seconds to realise he was yanking my jeans and underwear down my thighs, pushing them all the way down to my ankles and I felt the first buzzing thrill of being completely exposed outdoors, that wicked elation of knowing we were doing something we shouldn't be, in a place where we shouldn't be doing it.

Grasping my hips, he pulled my body back a couple of steps before laying his hand heavy on the base of my spine, forcing me to bend the top of my body forwards, using the trunk for support. The muscles between my legs clenched and unclenched in small delicious spasms, in anticipation of what was about to happen – which I knew was going to be fast and frantic and very, very hard.

There was a split second of teasing hesitation as he pressed against me and went no further, and then he was there, pushing himself deep inside me, the force of that first thrust making me cry out, probably louder than I should have but unable to suppress the sound. He withdrew slightly, and then again pushed hard and deep – maybe even deeper this time as his fingers dug into my hips, holding me in place. He was in control, just the way he liked it and right then, I wouldn't have wanted it any other way. I felt hot at the thought of him claiming my body like this, doing it whichever way he wanted, however the hell he wanted. It felt wanton and almost primal and I loved that I made him act this way, that I made him feel this way.

The impetus of his thrusts was becoming faster, stronger, and with each one the heat was building, the friction between my legs becoming almost too much to bear and I pushed my hands against the tree, ignoring the scratch of the bark against my palms and concentrating wholly on the sweet burn as he drove into me again and again. The propulsion of his body slamming against mine and the dull thwack of skin upon skin only succeeded in increasing my need for him, if that was even possible, but the feeling then was so powerful, so consuming that it made my chest hurt at the thought of him pulling away, of ever having to be without him, without this.

Reaching round, his hand slid between my legs once again and I knew I was instantly undone, the firm strokes of his fingers together with the momentum of him fucking me from behind, driving me to the edge of all reason, all rational thought. When I came, it was furious and explosive, throbbing against his hand, hot pulses enveloping him and it was his turn to cry out as he felt the force of it.

"Fuck, Megan, yes, fuck yes."

With one final sharp thrust, he was there with me, his body juddering hard against mine, pulsing violently inside me until we were both panting like animals, unable to speak or move or do anything but remain there, locked together as the heat slowly subsided. When he finally, and almost reluctantly withdrew, he reached down and pulled up my jeans before tugging his own into place. As I finished buttoning my shirt, he suddenly wrapped his arms around me, pulling my back against his chest and holding me there, nuzzling my ear and burying his face into my hair. I closed my eyes and relaxed into him.

"We'll find a way, you know," he said, gruffly. "This thing with Lucius, we'll sort it, somehow, I know we will."

I smiled sadly and linked my fingers with his. "Careful, Cain, anyone would think you actually cared for him."

"Despite what some people might think, I'm not a complete bastard all of the time." He swallowed, planting small soft kisses along my ear lobe. "And besides, I know what this will do to you and I can't have that. I won't have that. Fuck what you are. Fuck destiny and fuck Michael for that matter. I don't give a shit if I risk the wrath of God himself. You're not doing this. I promise you, we will find a way. Lucius stays with us."

God, how I loved him then. 

"What if I have no choice?" I said, externalising the thoughts that had been haunting me since I'd read that damn book. "What if, on the night of the blue moon, something happens ... what if I can't control it? What if it's like a given, a fixed moment in time that I can't escape from? I know you think keeping my distance from Lucius isn't the answer, but I can't help thinking it's all I can do."

"Well, if it is a given, as you say, maybe putting distance between you and the boy wouldn't work anyway. If you really don't think you could control it, who's to say the angel in you won't seek him out? And no offence, but I'd hate to be the one standing in your way if that is what's going to happen."

He squeezed me tighter, but right then it was hard to feel comforted when the thought of the angel doing whatever it took to destroy Lucius was whirling round and round inside my head and forming a cold hard ball of dread in the pit of my stomach. The idea that I could hurt the ones I loved the most made me feel sick with fear and I shivered despite the warmth of Harper's embrace.

"Come on," he said, taking my hand. "Let's go and do what we actually came out to do, before Fenton sends out a search party."

We were leaving the protection of the copse of trees, still hand in hand, when the sensation hit and my body stiffened instinctively. I stopped dead, my feet refusing to move any further.

Harper turned to look at me in alarm. "Megan? What is it? I can't sense ...."

"It's not them," I said, shaking my head. "It's not the Varúlfur. It's something else, someone else...."

My eyes scanned the park, as if I were holding onto the end of a string, following its path to the one who waited at the other end. The tug was familiar, not as strong as it had been before, but I recognised it all the same. It wasn't one I was going to forget too soon.

Some connections, it seemed, just could not be completely severed.

After just a few agonising seconds, I found him, standing not far from the park lake, striking an imposing figure as he always did, hands in his pockets and hood up, most likely to conceal those tell-tale white eyes that always saw too much.

"Josiah," I whispered.

Harper followed my gaze, his grip tightening on my hand. "Fuck sake, what the hell does he want? I swear, if he starts talking about clauses in the small print we didn't know about, I'm going to tear out his throat and leave his body in the lake for the damn ducks."

As soon as we started towards him, he too began to walk towards us, although I noticed his pace was quicker, almost bordering on a jog. When we met, much closer to where we had been standing than where he had, he threw back his hood and instantly I saw the troubled look on his face, the way his brow furrowed with concern.

"Megan," he said, his voice croaky as if he was out of breath. "Thank goodness I found you."

"What are you doing here, Josiah?" Harper was on the attack straight away. Old habits, it seemed, were hard to break. "Megan's business with you is done. You have no dealings with her anymore."

Josiah's bristle of irritation was brief as his cold white gaze swept over his old enemy, but it was quickly replaced by whatever the hell was clearly bothering him. I noticed that he looked tired, exhausted even, his dark handsome face appearing noticeably more haggard than the last time I had seen him.

"I'm not here about that, alright?" He turned his attention back to me. "I'm not, I swear to you, I'm not. I need you to listen to me, I saw...."

Harper's warning growl was laced with threat, one that I knew he would follow up with swift action if need be. "We don't give a shit what you've seen, seer. Keep your fucking sorcery to yourself. Megan's got enough to deal with, without your sick mind games."

"You don't understand," he began and I heard the pleading note in his tone and saw the way he was looking at me. This was a different kind of Josiah, the one that I had seen behind the cold, indifferent seer who'd tormented and taunted me for all those weeks, this was the one so utterly desperate and so utterly lost that he was willing to let down the veneer, even if just for a short while. Whatever it was, there was something in his expression that told me this was nothing to do with the contract, but something else entirely, something that made the hair rise on my neck and goosebumps ripple across my skin.

Before Harper could jump in, I stepped forward, gesturing for him to cool it.

"What is it? What did you see?"

He spoke then, the words rushing out in a jumble, barely taking a breath as they tumbled out of his mouth as if he'd been holding them back for so long that he just couldn't keep them under control any longer.

"You know I was struggling to see you, right? I told you, it was getting darker and darker, almost as if someone or something was trying to prevent me from foreseeing your future. The thing is sometimes, just sometimes, when a contract comes to an end, that's not it. I see little pieces here and there, flashes of things that I can't get a hold of, things that make no sense to me. It doesn't happen often, but it can happen, it's just the remnants of the bind which mostly fade away to nothing given time. The thing is, I never expected that with you, after not being able to see you clearly, I just figured it would go completely dark and that would be it. Finished. Over. But they came back, Megan. Nothing concrete at first and I still don't know if it makes any sense, but the fact is, you came back. I started to see things, the odd snippet here and there. I thought it would go away, like all the others, but it didn't. It got worse, the past week or so, it's been constant. And the weird thing is, I keep seeing the same image, like I'm watching a slide show and the film has got stuck and it's flickering on the screen over and over again. The same damn image and I just knew it had to mean something. Then today I saw it, I finally worked it out and I knew I had to come and find you. I had to warn you."

I blinked, overwhelmed by the torrent of his words and feeling an unsettling sensation grip me deep in my gut.

"Wait, stop, Josiah," I said. "Warn me about what? What did you see? What was the image?"

Stepping forward, he looked down at me and I knew whatever it was, he was afraid. He was truly bloody terrified.

"It was a face. All the time, the same face and whoever it is, they're dangerous, Megan. A danger to you. A danger to Lucius. You need to watch out, you need to watch out for this person."

I gripped hold of his arm.

"Who is it, Josiah? Who did you see?"

"A girl," he said.

The ground seemed to fall away beneath my feet. No. It couldn't be. No. 

"A young red-headed girl."