Nora's POV
"How can you be certain it's him?" I question, my voice tight with confusion.
"Ó Shields," James responds simply. "That's his surname."
My head spins as I try to process everything. The Horsemen at our doorstep, and now some ancient vampire extending dinner invitations that scream trap. "Okay, wait... damn it. I can't even form a coherent thought right now."
"It doesn't matter what you were going to say. We're declining his dinner invitation, and Winston can go to hell."
Something in his tone makes my chest tighten. "This feels personal between you two. You identified him from my vague description immediately. There's history here, isn't there?"
"Not many vampires exist from my era," James deflects, but I weave white light through my fingers in warning.
"Don't you dare lie to me, James."
"I never lie to you, Nora."
"I know that." My shoulders sag slightly. "But don't hide things to protect me. I'll discover the truth eventually."
