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Lenobia barely spared Nicole a nod. Her emotions were focused on the restless herd behind her, and her eyes were focused on the thickening smoke and the licking flames before her from which Travis did not emerge.

“Travis!” she shouted.

There was no answer.

“The fire’s spreading fast,” said the still-coughing red fledgling. “He might be dead.”

“No,” Lenobia said firmly. “Not this time.” She turned to look at the herd, calling out to her beloved black mare, “Mujaji!” The horse nickered and trotted toward her. Lenobia put up a hand, halting her. “Be calm, sweet one. Watch over the rest of my children. Lend them your strength and serenity, as well as my love,” Lenobia said. The mare reluctantly but obediently began moving around the clusters of frightened horses, herding them together. Satisfied, Lenobia turned away, drew two deep breaths, and sprinted into the mouth of the burning stables.

The heat was terrible. The smoke was so dense it was like trying to breathe boiling liquid. For an instant Lenobia was transported back to that terrible night in New Orleans and another burning barn. The thick ridges of the scars on her back ached with a phantom memory of pain, and for a moment panic ruled, rooting Lenobia in the past.

Then she heard him cough, and her panic was shattered by hope, allowing the present and the true strength of Lenobia’s will to overcome her fear. “Travis! I can’t see you!” she shouted as she ripped off the bottom of her nightgown, stepped into the closest stall, and dunked it in the water trough.

“Go—back—” he said between hacking coughs.

“Like hell I will. I’ve watched a man burn because of me. I do not like it.” Lenobia pulled the soaking cloth over her like a hooded cloak and moved farther into the smoke and heat, following Travis’s coughs.

She found him next to an open stall. He’d fallen and was trying to pull himself up, but had only made it to his knees where he was bent over gagging and coughing. Lenobia didn’t hesitate. She stepped into the stall and dunked the ripped cloth into the stall’s water trough again.

“What the?” Another cough raked him as he squinted up at her. “No! Get—”

“I have no time for arguing. Just lay down.” When he didn’t move quickly enough, she kicked his knees out from under him. He fell onto his back with a grunt and she spread the wet cloth over his face and chest. “Yes, like that. Flat,” Lenobia commanded, as she reached into the water trough, and quickly splashed the liquid over her face and hair. Then, before he could protest or foil her plan by moving around, she grabbed Travis’s legs and began pulling.

Did he have to be this big and heavy? Lenobia’s mind was getting fuzzy. Flames were roaring around her and she was sure she could smell burning hair. Well, Martin had been big, too … Then her mind stopped working. It was as if her body was moving on automatic with no one piloting it except a primal need to keep dragging this man from danger.

“It’s her! It’s Lenobia!” Strong hands were suddenly there, trying to take her burden from her. Lenobia fought. Death would not win this time! Not this time!

“Professor Lenobia, all is well. You made it out.” The coolness of the air registered, and then her mind was able to put sense to what was happening. She gasped, breathing in the clean air and coughing out heat and smoke as gentle hands helped her to the grass and put a mask over her nose and mouth, through which even sweeter air flooded her lungs. She sucked in the oxygen and her mind completely cleared.

Human firemen swarmed the grounds. Powerful water hoses were being turned to the flaming stables. A pair of paramedics was hovering, staring at her, looking lost and obviously surprised at how quickly she was recovering.

She ripped the mask from her face. “Not me. Him!” She yanked the smoldering cloth from Travis’s too still body. “He’s human—help him!”

“Yes, ma’am,” one of the EMTs mumbled and they started working on Travis.

“Lenobia, drink this.” A goblet was thrust into her hands and the Horse Mistress looked up to see the two vampyre healers from the House of Night infirmary, Margareta and Pemphredo, crouching beside her. Lenobia drained the wine that was heavily laced with blood in one long swallow, instantly feeling the life energy it carried tingle through her body.

“You should come with us, Professor,” Margareta said. “You will need more than that to completely heal.

“Later,” Lenobia said, tossing the goblet aside. She ignored the healers, as well as the sirens and voices and general chaos around her. Lenobia crawled to Travis’s head. The EMTs were busy. The cowboy already had a mask of his own, and they were starting an IV in his arm. His eyes were closed. Even under the soot smudges, she could see that his face was scalded and red. He was wearing an untucked T-shirt that had obviously been thrown on hastily over his jeans. His strong forearms were bare and already blistering. And his hands—his hands were burned bloody.

She must have made an involuntary noise—some small outward sign of the horrible heartache she was feeling—because Travis opened his eyes. They were exactly as she remembered—whisky brown tinged with olive green. Their gazes met and held.

“Is he going to survive?” she asked the paramedic closest to her.

“I’ve seen worse, and he is go

“Actually, it took me two hundred and twenty-four years to find him, but I am glad I was in time.”

Travis started to say something, but his words were drowned in a terrible, hacking cough.

“Excuse me, ma’am. The gurney’s here.”

Lenobia moved to the side as Travis was transferred to the gurney, but their gaze never broke. She walked beside him as they rolled him to the waiting ambulance. Before they loaded him within, he pushed off his mask, and in a gravelly voice asked, “Bo

“She’s fine. I can feel her. She’s with Mujaji. I’ll keep her safe. I’ll keep all of them safe,” she assured him.

He reached out to her, and she carefully touched his burned, bloodied hand. “Me too?” he managed to rasp.

“Yes, cowboy. You can bet that big, beautiful mare of yours on that.” And not giving a damn that she could feel everyone staring at her—humans, fledglings, and vampyres—Lenobia leaned down and kissed him softly on his lips. “Look for happiness and horses. I’ll be there. This time making sure you are safe.”

“Good to know. My mamma always said I needed a keeper. Hope she rests better knowin’ I got me one.” He sounded like his throat was full of sandpaper.

Lenobia smiled. “You’ve got one, but I think it is you who needs to learn to rest.”

The tips of his fingers touched her hand and he said, “I believe I can now. I was just waitin’ to find my way home.”

Lenobia stared into his amber and olive eyes that were so familiar, so very, very much like Martin’s, and imagined she could see through to that also familiar soul—to the kindness and strength, honesty and love that somehow had fulfilled his promise to return to her. Deep within her Lenobia knew that even though the rest of the tall, wiry cowboy looked nothing at all like her lost love, she’d found her heart again. Emotion clogged her voice, and all she could do was smile, nod, and turn her hand so that his fingertips rested on her palm—warm, strong, and very much alive.

“We need to get him to St. John’s, ma’am,” said the EMT.

Lenobia took her touch reluctantly from Travis, wiped her eyes, and said, “You can have him for a little while, but I’ll want him back. Soon.” She turned her storm cloud gaze on the white-jacketed human. “Treat him well. This barn fire is small in comparison to the heat of my temper.”