They were, of course, unaware of this, and had things gone differently the prospect of a new baby would have put the skids on tropical vacations for some time to come.

As it was, it was their last family holiday.

It had been during one of Lilith’s brief and passionate estrangements from Lora. She’d chosen Jamaica on a whim, and entertained herself picking off locals and the occasional tourist. But she’d grown tired of the taste of the men who trolled the bars.

She wanted some variety—something a little fresher and sweeter. She found just what she was looking for with the young family.

She’d ended the mother’s and little girl’s giggling moonlight walk along the beach swiftly and viciously. Still she’d been impressed with the woman’s panicked and ineffectual struggle, and her instinctive move to protect the child. As they’d satisfied her hunger, she might have left the man and boy splashing unaware in the surf down the beach. But she’d wanted to see if the father would fight for the son. Or beg, as the mother had begged.

He had—and had screamed at the boy to run. Run, Davey, run! he’d shouted. And his terror for his son enriched his blood to make the kill all the sweeter.

But the boy hadn’t run. He’d fought, too, and that had impressed her more. He’d kicked and he’d bitten, and had even tried to leap on her back to save his father. It was the wildness of his attack combined with his angelic face that had decided her on changing him rather than draining him and moving on.

When she had pressed his mouth to her bleeding breast, she had felt something stirring inside her that had never stirred for another. The almost maternal sensation had fascinated and delighted her.

So Davey became her pet, her toy, her son, her lover.

It pleased her how quickly, how naturally he’d taken to the change. When she and Lora had reconciled, as they always did, Lilith had told her Davey was their vampiric Peter Pan. The little boy, eternally six.

Still like any boy of six, he needed to be tended to, entertained, taught. Only more so, in Lilith’s opinion, as her Davey was a prince. As such, he had both great privilege, and great duty.

She considered this specific hunt to be both.

He quivered with excitement as she dressed him in the rough clothes of a peasant boy. It made her laugh to see his eyes so bright as she added to the game by smearing some dirt and blood on his face.

“Can I see? Can I look in your magic mirror and see myself? Please, please!”

“Of course.” Lilith sent a quick and amused look toward Lora—adult to adult. Picking up the game, Lora shuddered as she picked up the treasured mirror.

“You look terrifying,” Lora told Davey. “So small and weak. And... human!”

Carefully taking the mirror, Davey stared at his reflection. And bared his fangs. “It’s like a costume,” he said, and giggled. “I get to kill one all by myself, right, Mama? All by myself.”

“We’ll see.” Lilith took the mirror, and bent down to kiss his filthy cheek. “You have a very important part to play, my darling. The most important part of all.”

“I know just what to do.” He bounced up and down on his toes. “I practiced and practiced.”

“I know. You’ve worked very hard. You’re going to make me so proud.”

She put the mirror aside, facedown, forcing herself not to take a peek at herself. Lora’s burns were still raw and pink, and her reflection so distressing that Lilith only looked into the charmed mirror when Lora was out of the room.

At the knock at the door, she turned. “That will be Midir. Let him in, Davey, then go out and wait with Lucian.”

“We’re going soon?”

“Yes. In just a few minutes.”

He raced to the door, then stood, shoulders straight while the sorcerer bowed to him. Davey marched out, her little soldier, leaving Midir to shut the door behind him.

“Your Majesty. My lady.”

“Rise.” Lilith gave a careless wave of the hand. “As you see, the prince is prepared. Are you?”

He stood, his habitual black robes whispering with the movement. His face was hard and handsome, framed by his flowing mane of silver hair. Eyes, rich and black, met Lilith’s cool blue.

“He will be protected.” Midir glanced toward the large chest at the foot of the bed, and the silver pot that stood opened on it. “You used the potion, as I instructed.”

“I did, and it’s your life, Midir, if it fails.”

“It will not fail. It, and the chant I will use, will shield him from wood and steel for three hours. He will be as safe as he would be in your arms, Majesty.”

“If not, I’ll kill you myself, as unpleasantly as possible. And to make certain of it, you’ll go with us on this hunt.”

She saw, for just a moment, both surprise and annoyance on his face. Then he bowed his head, and spoke meekly. “At your command.”

“Yes. Report to Lucius. He’ll see you mounted.” She turned away in dismissal.

“You shouldn’t worry.” Lora crossed to Lilith, slipped her arms around her. “Midir knows it’s his life if any harm comes to our sweet boy. Davey needs this, Lilith. He needs the exercise, the entertainment. And he needs to show off a bit.”

“I know, I know. He’s restless and bored. I can’t blame him. It’ll be fine, just fine,” she said as much to assure herself. “I’ll be right there with him.”

“Let me go. Change your mind and let me go with you.”

Lilith shook her head, brushed a kiss over Lora’s abused cheek. “You’re not ready for a hunt. You’re still weak, sweetheart, and I won’t risk you.” She took Lora’s arms, gripped tight. “I need you on Samhain—fighting, killing, gorging. On that night, when we’ve flooded that valley with blood, taken what’s ours by right, I want you and Davey at my side.”

“I hate the wait almost as much as Davey.”

Lilith smiled. “I’ll bring you back a present from tonight’s little game.”

D avey rode pinion with Lilith through the moon-struck night. He’d wanted to ride his own pony, but his mama had explained that it wasn’t fast enough. He liked going fast, feeling the wind, flying toward the hunt and the kill. It was the most exciting night he could remember.

It was even better than the present she’d given him on his third birthday when she’d taken him through the summer night to a Boy Scout camping ground. And that had been such fun! The screaming and the running and the crying. The chomp, chomp, chomping.