"Is it like this everywhere you go?" Gary asked. "Pretty much." Savannah shrugged calmly. "I don't really mind. Peter always--" She broke off abruptly and brought the steaming cup to her mouth. Gregori could feel sorrow beating at her, a crushing stone weighing down her heart. His hand slipped down her arm to lace his fingers through hers. At once he poured warmth and comfort into her mind, the sensation of his arms around her body, holding her close. "Peter Sanders always took care of the details surrounding Savannah's shows. He was very good at shielding her. He was murdered after her last show out in San Francisco." He provided the information quietly to Gary. "I'm sorry," Gary said instantly, meaning it. Her distress was evident in her large blue eyes. They shimmered with sorrow. Gregori brought Savannah's hand to the warmth of his mouth, his breath heating the pulse beating in her wrist. , mon petit amour. There were tears in her voice, in her mind, like an iridescent prism. She needed him, his comfort, his support under her terrible weight of guilt and love and loss. , he answered instantly, without hesitation, his eyes hot mercury. He tipped her chin up so that she met the brilliance of his silver gaze. , mon amour."