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Don’t miss the exclusive excerpt from

CAGED WARRIOR

by Lindsey Piper

Coming spring 2013 from Pocket Books

Following Night’s Darkest Embrace

CONTENTS

NIGHT’S DARKEST EMBRACE

by Jeaniene Frost

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

An exclusive excerpt from

CAGED WARRIOR

by Lindsey Piper

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

CHAPTER ONE

The sun’s rays slipped further behind the Bed Bath & Beyond sign across the parking lot. Soon it would be dark. All I had to do was not be stupid until dark, less than ten minutes from now.

I wasn’t going to make it.

Shoppers drove in and out of the complex. If they noticed me, they chose to mind their own business instead of asking why I was pacing like a crazy person in the back of the parking lot by a Dumpster. If my father were here, he’d urge me to follow their example and mind my own business, too. But the raspberry shimmer in front of the Dumpster called to me. Even the wafting stench of garbage wasn’t enough to slow my pulse as I stared at it. This had to be the smelliest gateway this side of the Mississippi, but I was looking at the only known entrance into Nocturna.

For a few more minutes, anyway. The gateway was only active between dusk and dark.

The shimmer in front of the Dumpster started to fade even as the lights in the parking lot turned on, signaling the arrival of evening. If I let the gateway disappear, I’d do the same thing I’d done every night for the past month—go back to my apartment and try not to think about what lay on the other side of that fading raspberry veil.

Don’t go back there, Mara. Please.

My father’s plea replayed in my mind, but it wouldn’t sway me this time. There were worse things than danger. Like guilt, or doing nothing and risking more people you loved being picked off.

I backed up several feet before flinging myself toward the Dumpster. Only the faintest haze remained in front of it now. My sneakers thudded on the pavement as I picked up speed, running right at the center of the smelly container, streamlining my body into a dive . . .

I barreled not into the metal Dumpster but into Nocturna, making it through the gateway before the veil closed into itself. I rolled when I hit the earth, the putrid stench of garbage instantly replaced with a heady, wood-smoke-scented air. Darkness also replaced the previous glow from the parking lot lights. It was always night in Nocturna. A few blinks later and my eyes adjusted, revealing a man on horseback galloping toward me.

“Back again, eh, Mara?” a familiar voice called out when the rider drew near enough for me to see the silver streak in his otherwise dark hair.

I brushed myself off as I stood. My backpack shifted with my movements but I shoved it into place, adjusting the straps until they were straight. Landing on my ass inside another dimension tended to jostle things.

“You’re the best patrolman here, Jack, you know that?” I replied, not bothering to answer his question. Obviously I was back or we wouldn’t be talking. “Most of the others don’t find out if anyone’s crossed over unless the person yells for them to give ’em a ride.”

“People can pop up anywhere along the barrier, and that runs for miles,” Jack said, still with an undercurrent of amusement. “And you said you weren’t coming back the last time I saw you.”

I didn’t look at him but continued to brush my jeans, as though getting every last bit of dirt from them was extremely important. “Can’t a girl change her mind without getting hassled? I missed this place—”

“Horseshit,” Jack interrupted, even as his mount snorted in what sounded like agreement. “You still think you can find the Pureblood who took Gloria, but you need to let go of that fantasy and get on with your life.”

I stiffened, my head snapping up to meet Jack’s blue gaze. “I am getting on with my life,” I said, biting off every word.

Jack shook his head in a way that reminded me of my father. The two men even looked a little alike, with their lightly lined faces and wiry frames. Plus, Jack had never made a single pass at me, which was why I trusted him enough to stay at his place when I came here.

“Suit yourself,” he grunted. “I’m not your babysitter. You’re too old for one now, anyway. Go on. You can use my cabin to freshen up.”

I thought I heard Jack add, “Like usual,” but I chose to ignore that. Now that I was here, a feeling of peace washed over me. Maybe it was because traveling through dimensions was my birthright as a partial demon. Or because I’d determined to let nothing stop me on this trip. That wouldn’t be easy—or safe—but I was old enough now that most of the Purebloods weren’t interested in me. Twenty-two was almost middle-aged to them. They only liked children or, at most, older teenagers.

Like Gloria had been. And my half sister now was.

That, more than the guilt over Gloria that was so familiar as to feel normal, was why I’d had to break my promise and come back. An overheard conversation between my little sister and her friend about Nocturna had been enough to convince me that I couldn’t stay away. I was the only living eyewitness. If I never came back to search for the Pureblood who’d taken Gloria, maybe next time it would be my sister who was doomed to die a horrible death. Damned if I’d let that happen, no matter my father’s fears.

By the time I followed the line of mounted lanterns that took me to Jack’s cabin, I was convinced that I’d made the right decision. I went inside the small lodge, noting that Jack had added a few more crossbows to his weapons cache, but aside from that, nothing else had changed. The mirror Jack used for shaving looked like it hadn’t been cleaned since the last time I’d wiped it, and his floor probably hadn’t been swept since then, either. If I didn’t stay here occasionally, the dirt would be up to Jack’s waist.

I pumped some water from the spigot and cleared away the dust from the mirror, frowning a little once I saw my reflection. Dirt smudged my cheek and I had bits of leaves in my hair. That wouldn’t do.

A few more pumps of the spigot and I washed off the remaining traces of dirt from my face, using my fingers to comb bits from the forest floor out of my hair. At least I thought I got it all out; the dried leaves matched the deep brown color of my hair, so a few stragglers might have remained. Then I shrugged out of my backpack and took off my jeans, T-shirt, and sneakers to put on the long denim skirt, boots, and blouse that I’d folded up inside. The other clothes were more comfortable, but a little glimpse of cleavage or a flash of leg went a long way toward getting reluctant residents of Nocturna to spill information. Once I was finished, I put on my gun belt and then my leather jacket, giving my reflection another critical glance.

Lipstick would help, but I’d forgotten to slip some into my backpack. Lucky for me, my mouth was naturally full and reddish, so that, along with a clean face and somewhat tamed hair, would just have to do.

•   •   •

Multiple lights glowed in the distance as I left the lantern-strewn path and approached Nocturna’s version of a metropolis. When I first came here, I thought it looked like a cross between the Victorian era and the Wild West. Tethered horses and carriages lined the narrow streets instead of cars, with candlelight the only brightness against the perpetual darkness. Music floated out from different bands, merging together to form a profusion of sounds that dulled out the laughter, shouts, and occasional gunshots from the town’s many occupants.

And at the end of the mini-city, set apart from the grid of bars, whorehouses, hotels, and pawnshops, was Bonecrushers. Skulls lit up like jack-o’-lanterns illuminated the front of the bar, a warning that those seeking tamer fun should look elsewhere.

If only Gloria and I had heeded that warning several years ago, but to us, Bonecrushers had looked more exciting than frightening. Add that to the “You’re not scared, are you?” challenge from our dates, and nothing would’ve stopped us from walking through those doors.

Nothing would stop me this time, but that wasn’t because of teenage bravado anymore. Bonecrushers was my only link to the Pureblood who’d taken Gloria, so just like all the previous times I’d come here over the past two years, once again, that’s where I was headed.

I took a deep breath, then strode into the town, not pausing to look at the various people on the sidewalks. My quick pace—plus the guns holstered on my belt—said I wasn’t in a mood to buy something, get laid, or get robbed, which meant I was of no use to most of Nocturna’s residents. Rafael kept a loose form of law, but “accidents” were common. No surprise, considering everyone here was at least part demon, and the day people with demon blood could completely obey rules would be the day things got snowy in hell.

Not that I’d seen hell to know if it snowed there or not. Only Pureblood demons could travel through the gravitational layers separating the first few realms from each other. Beyond that, only the original race of fallen angels could make it all the way through the rest of them to the mythical Sheol.

That was the story, anyhow. No one I knew had ever met a Fallen and lived to tell about it. Pureblood demons fed off the life essence of partial demons like me, but the Fallen fed on Purebloods, leaving the predators in the unfamiliar position of being prey. In my opinion, it was poetic justice.

“Mara.”

I jerked my head toward the sound of my name, cursing myself for dropping my attention from my surroundings. In Nocturna, that was a good way to end up hurt—or worse.

“Hiya, Billy,” I said in a casual tone, pretending I’d spotted the brawny Halfie all along. “What’s new?”

Billy grinned, showing sparkling white teeth that contrasted with his unkempt appearance and tattered leathers. “I guess what’s new is that you’re not gone for good,” he noted with amusement.

All those farewells would bite me in the ass now. In my defense, I’d meant it at the time. I just hadn’t counted on how heavy my guilt would get if I officially gave up on avenging someone I’d already let down in the worst way.

“Who could live without Bonecrushers’s famous warm beer?” I asked flippantly. “Bars serve it watered down and chilled on the other side. Couldn’t stomach it.”

Billy laughed, his bald head gleaming in the reflection of the lit skulls around him. “Sure. But just in case that’s not the only thing you came for, thought you should know: He’ll be here soon.”

Before I could stop myself, I glanced behind Billy to the open doorway of Bonecrushers. The sensible part of me warned that I could still leave, it wasn’t too late . . . but my determination slapped that down. One-quarter reckless demon in my genetic makeup was enough to overcome three-fourths of cautious human any day.

“He who?” I asked, as if I didn’t know.

Billy laughed, his deep voice making it sound like his vocal cords were grinding together. “Right. Come on, Mara. I’ll buy you a brew, since you came all the way through a dimension for it.”

His tone said he wasn’t fooled. For a second I hesitated, despair competing with resolve in me. Billy knew I was here for more than Bonecrushers’s heated, throat-searing beer. But did he also know, as Jack did, that I’d been drawn back to Nocturna for more reasons than its darkly alluring ruler?

No need to wonder about that waiting out here. I swept out my hand.

“First round’s on you? Lead the way, my friend.”

Billy shouldered past the crowd by the door and I followed him inside. The open fire pit in the middle of the bar, combined with oil lanterns hung in various locations and the close proximity of numerous people, raised the temperature about twenty degrees from Nocturna’s natural chilliness. I took off my leather jacket, tying it around my waist instead of holding it. It had been several months since I’d needed to shoot anyone, but just in case, I wanted both my hands free.

Several sets of male eyes wandered over me as I passed by. I nodded to the people I recognized and gave cool stares to those I didn’t. Acting coy would have been like begging for those stares to turn into Bonecrushers’s version of being hit on, which frequently consisted of being tongue-kissed before introductions were even exchanged. Shame to end my no-shooting streak on such a silly thing as an unwary flirter.

“Hank,” Billy called out once he reached the bar. “Two brews.”

The band began playing something that might have been Nirvana’s “Smells Like Teen Spirit.” The music here tended to be at least a decade behind the times, and the band’s look was something from a former era, too. The musicians were pale even by Nocturna’s standards, with dark circles under their eyes and clothes that hung off bony frames. The lead singer had no microphone, electricity seldom working in this realm, but he managed to keep his voice louder than the chatter or the continual smashes of drink glasses into the fire pit.

“Someone should tell those guys that the ‘heroin chic’ look went out in the nineties,” I noted to Billy when I made it next to him at the bar.

He grinned, handing me a beer the bartender thunked on the counter. “Help ’em out. Bring some new Rolling Stone magazines next time you come over.”

Better to let him think I was indecisive than tip him off to my goal. “Maybe there won’t be a next time. I like sunshine, cars, electric toothbrushes, iPhones . . . all those things Nocturna will never have.”

Billy’s smile turned sly. “Some people can’t live without those. But you, Mara, you can’t live without your kind.”

“Except for my stepmother, my family’s all part demon.” I took a swallow from my mug and savored the burn regular beer never left. “I’ve also got Partial friends on the other side, so I’m around lots of my kind.”

“That’s not what I meant. You’re caged there, but here”—Billy raised his beer, indicating our general surroundings—“here we don’t pretend to be so emotionless or controlled. Some Partials can shut that part of themselves off, but you’re not one of them. Neither am I.”

Billy finished his beer in a single gulp, then sent the empty mug sailing into the fire pit. I took another drink, but slower, quietly acknowledging the truth in his words. My part-demon heritage meant I often did feel stifled living in the normal world, but at least there, I didn’t have to worry about Purebloods snatching up younger members of my family.

Or wonder which people around me might be helping them get away with it.

I scanned the faces in the crowd more out of habit than the thought that I could spot a Pureblood demon. Partials, Purebloods . . . all of us looked the same. Stand us next to humans and you couldn’t spot the supernaturals unless you caught the tiny lights that occasionally appeared in our eyes. Even Fallen were supposed to look normal until their hidden wings made an appearance, but if you saw those, it was already too late to run.

A hand appeared next to my arm, fingers long and masculine, with an ancient knot adorning the index finger and a simple ebony band encircling the thumb. Even if I hadn’t recognized those rings, I’d have known who was behind me for one simple reason—my heart had sped up, like something inside me had known he was close before the rest of me registered it.

“Rafael,” I said, not turning around.

That hand slid along my arm in the lightest of caresses, belying strength that had bested even a Pureblood in a fight. Beside me, Billy inclined his head.

“Rafe,” Billy rumbled. Then he got up and winked at me. “See ya later.”

I didn’t protest Billy’s departure. Acting flustered would have been the same as slapping a sign on my forehead that said Too Damned Interested For My Own Good.

I tipped my mug at the man as he slid into Billy’s seat, admiring Rafael out of the corner of my eye. He moved with a beautiful, controlled fluidity, each gesture full of grace and purpose. His long jacket was open, revealing the trademark black leather vest studded with thin knives over a dark blue shirt. Only Rafael could make postapocalyptic fashions look sexy.

“You’ve been away a long time,” Rafael said, his voice soft compared to the gaze he lasered on me.

I shrugged, glancing back to the scarred wooden bar instead of his vibrant blue eyes. “Technically, with how it’s always the same endless night here, I haven’t been gone at all—”

“Weeks,” he cut me off as his tone hardened. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

I took another swallow of my beer, but not even supernatural liquor could suppress my shiver as I turned to stare fully at Rafael. His golden-red hair and cobalt eyes accentuated high cheekbones and a face that could make angels weep with jealousy. If it wasn’t for his deadliness, Rafael’s ethereal looks might invite constant challenges to his being ruler. But the three-quarter demon was as ruthless as he was dazzling, enabling him to stay in control of Nocturna for the past two hundred years. He could rule for the next two hundred if he could hold off future challengers. Time froze in Nocturna. Night didn’t turn into day, seasons didn’t change, and even aging stopped—one of the big lures of living in a secondary dimension versus the modernized world.

And I had to stop letting Rafael get to me, especially when I wasn’t sure if he was helping Purebloods shuttle Partials from this realm to the next.

“What, you missed me?” I asked with a softly challenging grunt.

“And if I did?” Rafael caressed his words while tiny lights began to gleam in his eyes. He leaned closer, warm breath falling against my skin with his next words. “Would you like that?”

Truthfully, yes. For many reasons, not least of which was the secret crush I’d had on him since I was fifteen. But Rafael knew more about what had happened to Gloria than he’d let on. All the information I’d gathered in the past two years of poking around Nocturna implicated him either directly or indirectly. Plus, he’d never really explained why he’d been there that night, so conveniently close when the Pureblood had tried to pull me through the barrier. . . .

“Speechless, Mara?” he asked, a hint of a smile curving his lips.

I took another long sip of my beer—and started to choke as I sucked in a breath instead of swallowing. The bar and its surrounding seats were two steep steps up from the rest of Bonecrushers, giving me an elevated view of its occupants even while seated. And for the briefest moment, my gaze locked with that of a young man who was just ducking out the front door.

One glance was all I needed to recognize him. After all, his face had been burned on my memory for the past seven years. Ashton.

CHAPTER TWO

I vaulted to my feet, still choking, beer leaking out of my mouth and nose as I charged into the crowd after the Pureblood. Rafael tried to grab my arm but I shoved him aside, already pulling out one of my guns. Several large bodies blocked me, giving me annoyed glances as I shouldered past them, still coughing and spewing beer, but even though my eyes watered from the burn in my lungs, I didn’t slow down. I knew one day he’d come back!

“Mara, wait!” Rafael commanded.

I didn’t look back but continued to plow my way toward the front, barreling into Billy, who lounged by the door. He grabbed me at a shouted word from Rafael, making me curse as I attempted to wrest away. Only our friendship kept me from shooting him on the spot.

“Let me go!” I tried to scream, but it came out in a gasping cough that splattered more beer. Even if Billy understood, he ignored me, holding my arms in a hard grip and nimbly avoiding the kicks I aimed at his legs.

Firm pounding began on my back a moment later, helping me expel the liquid in my lungs all over the front of Billy’s shirt. Through my watering vision, I saw him give a disgusted grimace, but since he wouldn’t budge from his position, I couldn’t see past him to find out which direction Ashton had taken.

A few more measured whacks on my back later and I could breathe enough to talk, but that didn’t make me less furious.

“Let me go or I’ll blast a hole right through you!”

Billy released me at the same time that strong hands grasped my shoulders and spun me around. Rafael backed me out of the door while managing to block the gun I tried to raise at him.

“Cranky when you choke, aren’t you?” he noted without the slightest hint of anger.

“Damn you, he’s getting away,” I snapped, looking over his shoulder and trying to jerk free at the same time.

Rafael frowned, glancing behind me. “Who?”

“The Pureblood who kidnapped Gloria!” I all but roared, so frustrated that I didn’t care who overheard me.

Rafael let me go so abruptly that I stumbled. My gun went off when I instinctively reached out with it to break my fall. For a sickening second, I wasn’t sure if I’d shot someone. Then I jumped to my feet, determining to apologize later, if that was the case, but I had to find Ashton now.

When I glanced around, Rafael was nowhere to be seen. I didn’t pause to wonder where he’d gone but ran to the back, behind Bonecrushers. This was where the sneaky Pureblood would go instead of heading into the more well-lit areas of town. Behind the bar was an expanse of dark fields that stretched for miles until they met woods that reached all the way to the end of Nocturna—and the gateway leading to the next realm. But with these high, swaying grasses, I couldn’t see if Ashton was in them, and even at my best run, I couldn’t catch up with him. I needed a horse.

I spun around, hating the necessity of heading in the opposite direction from where I knew Ashton had run, but having no choice. Once in front of Bonecrushers, I grabbed the reins of the first horse I saw, tensing for the blasting pain from a gunshot if its owner saw me. One bullet won’t kill you, I reminded myself as I swung up into the saddle, whirling the horse toward the back of the bar and that cloaking darkness. It would take two shots to be lethal to a Partial like me, though one would do damage, that was for sure.

Luckily for me, no gunshots tore into my back. I spurred the horse into a gallop, one hand on the reins and the other grasping my gun. The horse charged through the tall grass like it knew exactly where we needed to go, to my relief. To stop a Pureblood, I’d need to land at least three good shots, and I needed to be close in order to see Ashton. Let me get him in my sights, I prayed. No way would I miss.

Gloria’s smile flashed in my memory, as bright and mischievous as her personality had been. Mara, this is Drew and Ashton. They’re Partials, too, and guess what—they know how to get into Nocturna!

I remembered the thrill those words had elicited. Our parents had strictly forbidden us from going into any realms and had refused to tell us where the gateways were, so that had made Drew and Ashton irresistible. It helped that they’d been hot, too, and since our parents had thought we’d been seeing a double movie, our evening had been wide open. So I’d cheerfully gone with my cousin and her two new friends to the smelly Dumpster at the back of Bed Bath & Beyond without a single protest, thinking this would be the most exciting night ever.

And I’d been the only one to come back through that gateway, hating myself as I’d told my aunt and uncle they would never see their daughter again. They’d eventually forgiven me, but I hadn’t forgiven myself. How could I? If I’d refused to go with Gloria, or told our parents, or even once tried to stop her, Ashton wouldn’t have taken her where none of us could follow to save her.

And now, just like I’d anticipated, he was back. Probably trolling for more young Partials to snatch away and feed on. What if my sister decided to wander into Nocturna with some friends one night, knowing the dangers but drawn toward the wild realm, like Gloria and I had been? No drinking age and an entire dimension to party in was a powerful lure for a lot of teen Partials, because of course bad things happened to other people, not them. If my sister ran into Ashton, she’d never know what he was until it was too late.

My hand tightened on the gun and I ducked closer to the horse’s neck to urge the animal faster. Where are you?

Even with the rush of wind and pounding hooves, I thought I heard a whoosh above me. Startled, I looked up, but the town’s lights didn’t reach this deep into the field. No moon brightened Nocturna’s sky to provide contrast against the endless darkness, either. The moon didn’t exist on this side of the realm. Only the stars prevented the field from being swallowed up by impenetrable blackness, and somehow, plant life here managed to renew itself in a reverse sort of photosynthesis with starlight instead of sunlight.

I snapped my attention back to the barely visible grass in front of me. Did I hear scrambling off to the left? I kneed the horse in that direction, straining my eyes against the breeze and the darkness. It was so hard to see, and being enveloped in blackness with the pounding of the horse’s hooves, wind, and my drumming heartbeat brought back awful memories.

My nose was stuffy from crying, but the duct tape plastered across my mouth meant those clogged inhalations were the only things keeping me alive. Grass blades slashed at my face like whips, burning my cheeks, until we entered the forest. Then the grass was gone, but the trees blocked out most of the starlight. I couldn’t see Gloria anymore. Last I’d glimpsed, she was slung over Ashton’s horse just like I was slung over Drew’s. Neither rider slowed his pace, however. I prayed the horses would stumble, or that something would stop them from taking us deeper into the woods, but nothing happened. The Purebloods must be able to see in the dark.

Purebloods. My nose threatened to close completely with my fresh spurt of tears. Ashton and Drew were Purebloods, and every child of my race knew what would happen if we were ever taken by one of them. . . .

I slowed when the horse’s rapid pace brought me to the end of the field. Once there, I trotted along the edge of the forest instead of entering it. Ashton could still be hiding somewhere in the tall grass. Or maybe he’d outpaced me and made it into the forest; it wasn’t likely, but Purebloods were very fast runners. The barrier had to be where Ashton was heading. He’d seen me, and I didn’t doubt that he’d recognized me, too.

Did I risk getting lost in the forest trying to beat him to the barrier, or should I continue combing the grasses? The forest offered more danger than just further reduced vision. Ashton might not be the only Pureblood in the area. Most residents of Nocturna avoided the forest. They knew that going into it might be the last thing they ever did.

If only batteries didn’t always fry when crossing through the gateway! What I wouldn’t give for a high-powered flashlight right now, or some night-vision goggles. Sure, I had my guns, but without visibility they didn’t do me much good. Ashton could be waiting to ambush me from above in a tree, and I wouldn’t even see him until he knocked me off my horse.

I muttered a curse before swinging the horse around and backtracking through the waist-high grasses. Maybe Ashton was somewhere close, hiding. Waiting to see if I was rash enough to go into the forest and give him the advantage. The other thought was too frustrating to contemplate. Maybe he was already in the forest, running toward the barrier, and I was letting him get away.

I led the horse in a brisk trot down the length of the field parallel to the tree line, cursing the darkness and the high grasses the entire time. Ashton could be fifty yards away, but if he was stealthy, odds were I wouldn’t spot him. This field was large, too. Five miles square, easily. Ashton had all the time in the world if he chose to wait me out.

Something stirred the grass ahead, about thirty feet in the distance. I didn’t charge right toward it but did a wide circle, not wanting to startle my target into hiding.

Yes. A definite disturbance in the grass. I tightened my grip on my gun until my hand ached. Come out, Ashton, where I can see you.

My heart began to hammer as a tall form stood up where that disturbance was, revealing himself from the concealment of the grass.

Thank you! I sighted down the barrel and—

“Mara.”

I jerked the gun up just in time. That silhouette strode toward me, starlight faintly reflecting off golden-crimson hair as he drew near.

Rafael. He’d been out here searching, too.

“Did you see anyone?” I demanded in a low voice, half wondering if he’d tell me the truth if he had.

“I saw no one.”

Something in his tone made me narrow my eyes. “He’s out here,” I said crisply when I diagnosed what that tone was. Doubt. “He might have headed into the woods.”

Rafael turned to consider the tall, forbidding forest ahead of us. “Go on,” he said finally. “I’ll watch out for you.”

I shouldn’t have found that reassuring, but for an inexplicable reason, I did. Maybe it was because I hoped I was wrong about Rafael’s involvement with Purebloods, even if the cynical part of me doubted I was wrong. Or perhaps it was my frustration at the thought of Ashton skipping through the woods, chortling to himself over how I was too chicken to follow. Caution urged me not to trust Rafael, but desire for revenge had me spurring the horse into the ancient forest with a firm kick.

Just like before, three-quarters cautious human was no match for one-quarter reckless demon.

I bent close to the horse’s neck as I navigated the woods, trusting the animal when he sidestepped over dips in the ground I couldn’t see. I’d only gone a couple hundred yards before I realized my chances of finding Ashton in this pitch-black maze had gone from bad to worse. The trees towered above, shutting out most of the light and making only the immediate area in front of me faintly visible. If I’d been human, I couldn’t have seen my hand in front of my face, but I didn’t have enough demon in me to see as clearly as Ashton could. Still, I kept going, hoping he’d be arrogant enough to show himself or try something.

Of course, if Ashton was in league with Rafael, these darkened woods would end up being my tomb. I didn’t like the idea of rotting here forever, so I discarded that thought. I’d chosen to trust Rafael—for the moment. So for the moment, I’d believe that if Ashton tried to ambush me, Rafael would step in long enough for me to get off a few good shots.

Then, oh, then, I’d make the Pureblood pay for what he’d done to Gloria.

But as my internal clock told me that more than an hour had ticked by since I’d first glimpsed Ashton at Bonecrushers, even my dim hopes of catching him waned. There simply were too many places he could hide in these woods. I kept my senses as sharp as possible, straining to hear the slightest sound that wasn’t a natural part of the woods, but nothing stood out. No telltale footfalls, no snapping branches, no indication of the Pureblood who’d gotten away for far too long.

Still, I didn’t stop but kept steering the horse grimly in the direction that I hoped was the right one. Getting lost here would be easy, with no real way to identify landmarks, and forget about navigating by the stars. I only caught the barest glimpses of them through spaces in the canopy of leaves above me.

Just when I thought that I was indeed hopelessly lost, something loomed ahead, as black as a snapshot into oblivion. My pulse picked up as I realized what it was. The barrier. I hadn’t been going in circles; I’d steered the horse right to the end of Nocturna and the wall that marked the boundary between it and the next realm.

That wall loomed above the trees, disappearing from my vision into the sky. I ignored the thumping of my heart and went nearer, thinking that although it wasn’t made up of rock, it looked like the sheer face of a cliff. Once we were only a dozen feet from it, my horse sidestepped away with a nervous neigh. Truth be told, I was rattled by the sight of it, too. I hadn’t seen it since that night, when I’d stared in horror as a section of it had parted to let Ashton—still clutching Gloria—through. If not for Rafael, I would’ve been next to vanish into its surface, never to be seen again.

Physicists had an explanation for barriers that separated the multiverses from one another. They called it M theory, hypothesizing that the membranes dividing up the dimensions were invisible. In that, they were close to right. They were invisible, but only to humans. If you had demon blood in you, you could see them plain as day, and this one was huge.

I climbed off the horse, still holding the reins so the animal couldn’t bolt away, to walk over and trace my hand over the cool surface of the barrier. If I’d been a Pureblood, I could have parted this with my power, pulling me and anyone I had a hold of through the gravitational field separating the realms. But if I were a Pureblood, then I would have been a ruthless predator like Ashton, snatching away Partials to feed off of. Making sure my victims were young, because the life essence from youth had more power to nourish me. Bastard.

Some powers would never be worth their price.

“Get away from that.”

At the first syllable, I whirled, aiming my gun, but then I recognized Rafael’s voice and froze instead of squeezing the trigger. Damn it, that was twice I’d almost shot him tonight! This time, not a single twig had snapped, nor had any other noise preceded him to warn of his presence. He was so silent that if I hadn’t been staring right at him, I’d have sworn no one was there.

“You think something’s on the other side, just waiting to pull me through?” I asked, very softly.

I couldn’t see his features, but I could make out the pinpoints of light in his eyes, like specks of stardust in the dark.

“You never know.”

I stared at him as I moved away from the barrier. Rafael looked more like a compilation of shadows in the almost nonexistent light. Him, the barrier, the woods . . . it all served to make the rest of that memory come roaring back.

Something big crashed into us, driving me and Drew off the horse onto the ground. For a second, I was stunned, and dirt lodged up my nose, making it even harder to breathe. Hard, heavy forms tumbled over me before rolling away. Over the furious sounds of a struggle, I heard Ashton’s shout.

“Drew! What’s going on?”

Couldn’t breathe! I rubbed my nose with my bound hands, trying to dislodge the dirt from it. My chest burned with a pain that made every other ache fade into insignificance. One nostril cleared and I took in a staggered breath that wasn’t enough, not nearly enough. Lights began exploding in my vision as a rushing noise filled my ears. Ashton shouted something else, but I couldn’t make it out this time. Through my narrowing vision, my eyes focused enough to see him. Ashton’s back was against what looked like an enormous wall, holding up a lantern with his other arm tight around Gloria.

And then a slit appeared in that wall behind him. Ashton melted into it, still clutching Gloria, both of them disappearing even as I screamed into my gag. A hard grip seized me, flipping me around, crushing me to the ground as I tried to scramble away. Then air—luscious, beautiful air!—filled my lungs as the duct tape was torn from my mouth and I sucked in a breath that ended on a sob.

“Gloria!”

“Why were you there that night, Rafael?” I asked, staring at the man who’d killed Drew and saved me. “What were you doing in the woods at just the right moment?”

Silence, then his shoulder moved in what might have been a shrug. “I told you before; something about those two boys struck me as odd when I noticed them at the bar. So I decided to patrol the barrier just in case and heard the horses.”

Plausible, but I didn’t believe him. Rafael was the ruler here. It would’ve made more sense if he’d sent someone to check the barrier instead of going himself.

Just like it didn’t make sense that he’d come here now, by himself. Was he really trying to help me catch Ashton . . . or was he helping the Pureblood escape instead?

“Everyone says you’re a three-quarter demon,” I began in as casual a tone as I could manage. I was about to stomp on thin ice, but if Rafael meant me harm, I was screwed anyway. “That means one of your parents was a Pureblood. With a Pureblood for a parent, you must not hate them like the rest of us do. In fact, I’ve often wondered—what do you feed on? Regular food, or something else?” Like Partials, my tone implied.

A derisive snort escaped him. “I don’t feed on what you’re thinking, my sweet, or I would’ve eaten my fill of you years ago.”

“Maybe I’m not your type,” I murmured.

This time, laughter floated over to me before the caress of his words. “Oh, you’re exactly my type, Mara.”

A tremor ran through me. He’d projected only stern aloofness the night we’d met, telling me who he was and forbidding me from returning to Nocturna while I was still a teenager. Once I’d returned at twenty to backtrack over my family’s long-cold search for Gloria’s kidnapper, however, Rafael had made his interest clear. I’d managed to hold him at arm’s length despite my attraction, but maybe I’d been going about this all wrong. What if all the answers I sought about Ashton and trafficking Purebloods could be found by going through Rafael, instead of around him?

“I’m cold,” I said, deliberately giving a light shudder. It was true; my jacket had come untangled from my waist sometime during my wild ride, and my sleeveless blouse and denim skirt weren’t proper outdoor wear for these temperatures.

“I don’t think the two of us can find him, so will you send a patrol out?” I continued. “Right now I want nothing more than to go back to Bonecrushers and have a tall mug of hot beer.”

He came closer, almost near enough for me to see the faultless hollows and contours of his face. “I’ll send a patrol, but they might be looking for a ghost. Are you sure you saw the same boy from that night?”

Ashton’s face flashed in my mind: black hair cut close, slightly crooked nose, brown eyes, and an easy smile. I’d only glimpsed him for a second, but I had no doubt. It was him. He wasn’t a ghost born out of my guilty conscience.

“If I’m wrong, your patrol spends a boring several hours stomping through the woods. If I’m right, you might catch a Pureblood. What’s to lose?”

He inclined his head. “Very true.”

Then Rafael leapt onto the back of my horse, the animal’s grunt the only noise from his movement. “Climb up,” he said, holding out his hand. “We’ll ride back together, and then I’ll send some men out.”

I slid my hand into his even as my plan finalized in my mind. It was far-fetched, yes, and it might get me killed, but if I succeeded . . . I’d find out exactly where the ruler of Nocturna stood regarding Purebloods.

“Hurry,” I told Rafael after he pulled me up and I settled myself against his chest.

His arms tightened around me as he spurred the horse forward at a brisk pace. I said nothing, grimly noting what had escaped me back when I was a terrified teen and I’d thought Rafael was the demon version of a knight in shining armor.

He could see well enough in the dark that he didn’t need to take the horse at a walk through the forest, like I had. The only other people I’d met who could see that well were Drew and Ashton. What if Rafael was more than a three-quarter demon? People only had his word that he wasn’t a Pureblood, but to my knowledge, no one had met either of Rafael’s parents to know for sure. He’d saved me from Drew several years ago, but maybe because Drew and Ashton had been hunting here without his permission, not because he bore the same animosity for Purebloods that all other Partials did.

If I was right, what I intended to do was akin to covering myself in meat before jumping into a lion’s den, but it also might be the quickest way to get to Ashton. All I had going for me was the hope that this lion wouldn’t see me coming.

Or that he’d turn out to be a vegetarian.

CHAPTER THREE

Rafael might prove to be a Pureblood in Partial’s clothing, but at least he saved me from a nasty confrontation with the owner of the horse I’d commandeered. When we rode up to Bonecrushers, a very beefy, very pissed-off Partial was describing to a group of onlookers all the different ways he’d beat the shit out of whoever had taken his ride. I’d have been forced to either shoot him to defend myself or take that beating, which, since I’d stolen his horse, most people in Nocturna would agree I deserved. But Beefy Angry Man went so abruptly silent when he saw Rafael astride his mount that it was all I could do not to laugh.

“Thanks for the loan,” Rafael said pleasantly as he climbed off, lifting me and setting me on my feet before I could jump off as well.

“Well . . . since it’s you . . .” the man sputtered. The onlookers, who’d hung around expecting to see an ass kicking, wisely decided to go back inside.

Who said demons couldn’t be civilized?

“Why don’t you get your beer and I’ll meet you after I’ve spoken to my men?” Rafael offered, still in the same pleasant tone with its I-dare-you-to-disagree undercurrent.

Since I’d said that was all I wanted, I was stuck now.

“Sure. I’ll, ah, see you at the bar.”

Ten minutes later, I pretended to be enraptured with my beer, but in reality, I strained to hear what Rafael was saying to Billy and several other of his men. Between the band and the noisy crowd, I probably only caught every fifth word. For all I knew, he could have been directing them to patrol the forest for Ashton . . . or telling them to gather up some extra firewood.

Didn’t matter. This might have been a half-assed plan, but it was the best I’d come up with, so I was seeing it through.

I was on my second pint when Rafael came over. The alcohol warmed away the chill from the past two hours; what’s more, it gave me an additional shot of courage. He only had to glance at the man on the stool next to me before the Partial dropped some coins on the bar and left. Rafael sat down, ordered another beer from the suddenly attentive bartender, and gave me a measuring look.

“The patrols have instructions to apprehend anyone they find in the woods and bring them to me.”

“Good,” I said, trying to sound appropriately grateful.

A small smile touched his mouth. “You don’t trust me, do you?”

That was more direct than I had been prepared for. I paused, casting about for a response.

“I’d like to,” I settled on at last, “but you didn’t seem to believe me when I told you I’d seen the Pureblood, so you could just be humoring me about the patrols.”

There. Just enough truth mixed in to—hopefully—get him to buy it.

Rafael lifted a shoulder in an elegant shrug. “You pointed out that I have nothing to lose by believing you. If you don’t trust in my honor, Mara, at least trust in my practicality.”

“And you should trust that I can see,” I muttered before reminding myself that I wanted him to drop this topic. “Earlier you asked if I’d wanted you to miss me when I was gone. The answer is yes, I did.”

His brows went up at my abrupt change of subject, but then a dusting of lights appeared in his eyes. For once, I didn’t suppress the attraction I felt for him but let it rise to the surface, steeling myself for what I had to do. Then I stared into his dazzling cobalt gaze with a slow, inviting smile.

“Speechless?” I asked softly, echoing his teasing question from before.

Rafael’s hand slid across the bar to cover mine, those strong fingers stroking with smooth, sure touches.

“Perhaps.”

I didn’t believe him, but I wasn’t being honest, either, so who was I to criticize?

“That’s all right, we don’t need to talk,” I offered, trying to make my tone sound throaty and enticing. “But maybe we could go back to your house and you can show me what you’re thinking?”

According to everything I’d heard, Rafael didn’t bring women back to his home. Instead, he had a fancy little room set up at the Plaza de Souls for romantic trysts. It was all I could do not to hold my breath while I waited to see if my previous refusals would pay off and he’d break his routine to take me up on my offer.

The lights in his eyes began to brighten, like stars about to go supernova. Thanks to the genuine attraction I had to Rafael, I knew mine were probably also gleaming with tiny specks of brilliance. Humans didn’t know that the expression “eyes lighting up” originally referred to demons, or they might hesitate to use the phrase themselves.

“What’s behind your sudden change of heart?” Rafael asked, his voice low but filled with a tantalizing undercurrent.

I let my fingers twine with his, stroking over those ancient rings.

“I’m sick of being patient.”

That was the truth, even though Rafael didn’t know I wasn’t talking about jumping into bed with him. Either way, it seemed to be enough. His hand tightened on mine, pulling me to my feet, and then he began leading me toward the door. The crowd around us reacted by pulling back slightly, deference this rough bunch showed to no one except Rafael. By the time we reached the entrance to Bonecrushers, his black-and-gold carriage was already out in front, the driver staring ahead impassively.

One day I’d have to ask Rafael how he always managed to have his ride waiting for him, but tonight, that was last on my list of things I intended to find out.

“You’re sure?” he asked, drawing me close to whisper the question against my ear.

All those years of guilt-infused wondering, waiting, and wishing I would’ve acted differently were about to come to an end.

“Hell yes.”

He opened the door and I climbed up into the interior of the carriage. A single gas lantern provided dim lighting when Rafael shut the door behind him. He hadn’t taken a seat before the carriage lurched forward, but he managed to stay perfectly balanced even as my head thumped against the cushioned seat. The horses seemed to be as impatient as I was, but to my relief, the carriage didn’t turn around and head toward the Plaza de Souls. It went straight, the direction of Rafael’s home.

Part one of my plan accomplished.

Yet now that I’d put the first step in motion, some of my bravado faltered. Odds were I wouldn’t be able to pull this off without paying a price. Gloria’s face flashed in my mind, followed by my sister’s. Both images firmed my resolve. Whatever the cost, I’d see this through.

Besides, I was already in over my head; all I had left to find out was whether I could tread enough water to survive.

Rafael sat next to me instead of taking the bench across from mine. The single flame kept most of his face in shadows, but it highlighted the richness of his red-gold hair. Being this close to him, knowing what would come next, made my heart speed up. I took in a steadying breath and an enticing scent teased my nostrils. Odd, I’d never noticed before that Rafael wore cologne. Probably because there had always been so many people around every other time I’d been near him, except for the two instances when we’d been on the back of a smelly horse.

“Mara.” His voice was no louder than a sigh, but it raised goose bumps across my skin with its intensity. “Come to me.”

I licked my suddenly dry lips. Many times over the past several years, I’d wondered what it would be like to kiss Rafael, even, if I was honest, going so far as closing my eyes and pretending former boyfriends were him during intimate moments. But this situation was nothing like how I’d fantasized. I had an agenda to accomplish, not a desire to fulfill.

Very slowly, I slid my hands up his vest, over his shirt, and to the collar of his jacket. Even through the layers of material, I could feel his heat and the firmness of his flesh. The lights in his eyes shone brighter while his mouth parted in the most sensual of smiles. Despite my unromantic intentions, tingling warmth swept over me. Rafael might have been a means to an end—and a treacherous one at that—but the reckless part of me still thrilled as he lowered his head. It was in my blood to find danger tempting, after all.

His mouth seared across mine, surprising me at the rush of sensations the contact caused. Before I could regroup and remind myself this was just a kiss, his tongue flicked along my lips, seeking entry. I opened my mouth, accepting the warm flesh that explored inside with knowing, sensual thoroughness. He tasted like spices and honey, a heady combination that incited me to draw on his tongue even though it was more than my act required.

He let out a muffled groan and pulled me closer, the pressure of his mouth increasing. Each stroke, flick, and probe of his tongue seemed designed to raze my detachment, centering me in the feel of him instead of my reasons for being there. His hand kneaded my neck, making it so easy to tilt my head back and let his arm support me. Then his kiss deepened even further, becoming more intense, until I began to feel dizzy. Need built inside me with no regard for my suspicions. I’d only meant to get a little turned on, but the throb that had taken up cadence below my waist was no halfhearted act. Maybe that was a good thing. No way would he believe I didn’t want him, not with how I couldn’t stop myself from pressing closer and moaning at the rough deliciousness of his kiss.

His arms almost crushed me to him when I slid my mouth down to his jaw and then to his throat. I couldn’t help it; his skin was unlike anything I’d felt. So smooth and silky, in such contrast to the hard, rippling muscles it covered. With his layers of clothes, I could see only the smallest bits of flesh peeking out from his face and neck. Naked, would his skin look as incredible all over his body? Have the same luscious suppleness on his arms, chest, stomach—and lower?

At the thought, that throb below my waist began to increase until it thrummed like a gong. As if he could sense it, Rafael yanked me onto his lap, the large, heated bulge in his pants pressing right against that demanding ache. Not even my gun belt jabbing me in the hip could distract me from the bomb of sensation that resulted, especially with the jostling carriage providing enough friction to throw gasoline onto the blaze of my desire. I was so caught up in the explosion of need that I didn’t notice he’d raised my skirt until it was well past my thigh.

Oh crap. I’d let this get out of hand in a hurry.

“Rafael,” I managed. “Wait.”

His hand dropped from my thigh, but he leaned back, still holding me to him with the other arm. I wasn’t even on the bench anymore; my body was draped over his instead of the cushioned seat. I sucked in a choked breath when he began to unbutton his vest and then his shirt, revealing inch by inch that his skin was just as gorgeous as I’d imagined.

Get focused, Mara, you’re blowing this! I railed at myself. If only the carriage didn’t keep rocking me against him in the most damningly intimate way, making it even harder to concentrate than it had been when I’d kissed him.

“Wait,” I said again once his shirt hung open and he reached for the buttons on my blouse.

“What’s wrong?” His voice was rougher, but whether that was lust or anger at my objection, I wasn’t sure.

I took in a deep breath, trying not to stare at the muscled beauty that was his chest. Even in the low lighting, he was the most stunning thing I’d ever seen.

“Not here,” I said, giving my head a slight shake for lucidity. “Unless I’m not good enough to have sex with in a bed?” I added, managing to sound both hurt and offended, if a bit breathless.

Rafael let out a husky laugh before gathering me close. “Fear not, my sweet. I won’t be finished with foreplay before we arrive.”

His mouth covered mine again, taking my breath away with the raw hunger in his kiss. He didn’t pause to tease my lips this time but delved past them with commanding purpose. Those hot, skillful flicks of his tongue made that buzzing return in my head, as if his mouth had the ability to intoxicate me. I didn’t protest this time when he began to unbutton my blouse, telling myself I didn’t want to make him suspicious, but the truth was that I burned to feel his hands on my skin. Every adolescent imagining I’d ever had was left in the dust at the reality of how incredible it felt to touch him, taste him. Feel the slide of his flesh as his mouth erotically ravished mine, hinting at what a few hundred years of experience could do.

That scorching mouth dipped to my neck at the same moment his palms cupped my breasts, brushing aside my bra. My head fell back as a harsh groan came out of me. He sucked my throat while his thumbs seared across my nipples in the same relentless rhythm as the friction of our lower bodies. I couldn’t think anymore, and I couldn’t keep my hands from traveling up his chest and over his shoulders. The feel of his skin was addictive, each flex and bunch of his muscles flaring even more heat through my core. Some stubborn bit of conscience nagged that I should stop, but I ignored it. So what if things went further than I’d originally intended? I’d still do what needed to be done when the time came.

“Mara,” he breathed, suddenly ceasing his unbelievable stroking of my breasts to catch my hands. “Stop.”

“Why?” I burst out before recalling that stopping would be a good thing.

“I can keep from taking you here, now, as long as you don’t touch me like that,” he replied in a tight voice.

Like what? I’d only been caressing his shoulders, not usually the spot of no return for a man. But then Rafael kissed me, sitting up to press his body against mine, and my thoughts reeled at the contact of his hard flesh against my sensitive breasts.

He pulled my free leg around him, the other one trapped under the tangle of my skirt, to rock me against his hips while his chest flattened my breasts. That hard bulge raked against my most sensitive part, the pressure building with each strong, undulating stroke, until finally I cried out as rapture shattered within me.

It spread from my loins into what felt like every vein, filling my body with hot, silken throbs. I couldn’t stop the gasps that Rafael absorbed between deep, branding kisses as I shuddered, those throbs turning into waves of sweetness. I felt like I was melting, sinking into his skin with each ripple of ecstasy, and if he wouldn’t have held me, I’d have tumbled onto the carriage floor.

“This is what I’ve waited for,” he muttered thickly when I tore my mouth from his to take in gulps of air. He stroked my hair away from my face, still holding me with his other arm, the flickering candlelight revealing a look of triumph and possessiveness on his face.

Confusion and embarrassment competed with euphoria from the spine-tingling orgasm. So much for “acting” with Rafael! Ten minutes into making out and he’d blown away anything my two former lovers had made me feel—all without taking off his pants or kissing me below the neck. If this was what he could do to me with foreplay, I might die from pleasure overload if I actually had sex with him.

But these circumstances weren’t real. Oh, if only they were, I’d be giddy instead of fighting off a stab of guilt. Yet despite how I wished to do anything except what lay ahead, chances were Rafael was using me for even more sinister purposes than what I had planned. I might want to believe his interest was genuine, his passion without ulterior motive, but then I’d be ignoring the pile of evidence that suggested he was involved with Purebloods. Rafael might have been the man of my dreams since I was fifteen, but that didn’t change the fact that he had a dark cloud hanging over his activities.

Otherwise, hell, I might have even been tempted to move to Nocturna to be closer to him. Electricity was overrated, plus cell phones and gas fumes were bad for my health. But here, I could be with Rafael and neither of us would even age. I wouldn’t be saying good-bye to my family, either. They could still visit me and I could go back to see them. . . .

I gave my head another shake, harder this time. One orgasm and I was mentally picking out wallpaper to redecorate Rafael’s home with. So much for moonlighting as a tough undercover Partial operative. The word pathetic applied to me right now.

With relief, I felt the carriage shudder and sway as it went over a particularly bumpy stretch of road. We had to be on the drawbridge outside Rafael’s home. That was an obvious indicator that the person whose arms I was still curled inside had nefarious connections. Rafael lived in a castle surrounded by a moat, for Pete’s sake. Even for a demon ruler, that was piling on the creepiness.

“We’re here,” he said, giving me a kiss that still incited shivers even though I’d managed to patch up most of my tattered self-control.

“Good. I-I want to finish things,” I stammered when he lifted his head.

His smile was dark, wicked, and tempting. “Oh, we shall. As soon as we’re inside.”

I shifted to unseat myself from his lap, feeling suddenly clumsy and awkward as I buttoned my blouse without bothering to rehook my bra. The bumps from the carriage kept swaying me into him, hampering my progress. He lifted me, setting me back onto the bench with his usual smooth, controlled movements, not even a grunt to show for it. The strength and grace I’d so often admired in Rafael would prove to be my biggest obstacle soon. I’d have just one chance to take him down or the jig would be up.

It’s the only way, I reminded myself, forcing a smile as he leaned down to brush his lips across my temple. I knew it was true.

Yet if I knew that, why did it still feel so wrong?

CHAPTER FOUR

Rafael didn’t bother buttoning his shirt or his vest. Both hung open, revealing the hard lines of his chest, with its impossibly smooth flesh. I tried not to stare as he jumped out of the carriage and held out his hands to me, his clothes gaping open even further with the action. I accepted his help down, determining then and there to make my move before he took off all his clothes. Otherwise I might be too busy drooling to do anything else.

The warm pressure of his body taunted me as we walked up a narrow outdoor corridor. I glanced around discreetly, noting the torches set up in various places along the high walls and the deep shadows between them. If he had guards, they were concealed in the various darkened recesses of this medieval castle knockoff. I kept taking mental notes as we walked further inside the stone behemoth. Two lefts past the fancy sword display, a right at the ancient-looking tapestry, up two flights of stairs, then left at the flame-eyed gargoyle, up another flight of stairs, left at the blacked-out window, and then through the second wide door on the right.

It opened up into a room that looked like a snapshot of a gothic fantasy. Candlelight made the dark gray walls appear welcoming, while the ceiling had to be twenty feet high, with designs carved into what looked like opaque glass. A large leather chair had a book perched on its arm, facedown and open to mark its place. Boots I’d seen Rafael wear before were carelessly tucked into an open alcove next to more pairs of masculine footwear. Another archway, a smaller one, opened to a dark space that I couldn’t see inside but assumed must be a closet or bathroom.

And of course, in the center of the room was a large bed with sumptuous pillows and thick blankets in varying shades of indigo. A nearby fireplace cast low lights onto the bed, revealing that it was unmade, an indentation from a large body still visible in its surface.

Rafael’s room. By all accounts, the place he never brought anyone back to.

His arms encircled me from behind, pulling me against him. For a moment, I closed my eyes, absorbing the feel of his body and the heat sinking into my back from the bare skin of his chest. If circumstances had been different, I’d have turned around, pressed my mouth to his, and tumbled us both onto that inviting navy bed.

Instead, I stroked his arm with one hand while I surreptitiously dipped the other one into my gun belt. He brushed aside the hair on the back of my neck with his mouth, tracing his tongue into the sensitive dip there. Erotic tremors broke out across my skin, increasing when he breathed my name into the same spot with a voice gone scratchy from desire.

Damn, damn, damn him for making me feel this way, when he might be involved with Purebloods!

I unfastened my belt, letting it drop to the floor with both guns still in their holsters. Then I turned around, wrapping my arms quickly around his neck. His mouth came down onto mine, scorching me with passion, while his hands tightened on my waist to bring our bodies closer.

Those hands clenched convulsively in the next moment. I froze, my heart rate tripling, braced for pain but unable to extricate myself from his embrace. He didn’t strike out, though for the space of several heartbeats, I could tell he was lucid enough to. Then, slowly, his hands relaxed and he pulled away, a look on his face that I didn’t want to name.

Finally, his legs buckled and he fell to the floor with more grace than someone unconscious had a right to. The end of an empty syringe still protruded from his neck, a little something I’d carried in my gun belt for months in the hopes that I’d get to use it on Ashton one day. I’d never thought I’d use it on Rafael, and certainly not like this.

It paid to have a Partial relative employed at an animal reserve. That needle had been filled with enough sedative to fell a small elephant—or the two-hundred-pound ruler of Nocturna, as it turned out. I stared down at Rafael, guilt once more swirling inside me, before pushing it back with all the ruthlessness of my supernatural heritage. I’d had to do it. Somewhere in this castle that few ever saw the inside of had to be a link to Rafael and Purebloods. He couldn’t have ruled Nocturna for over two centuries without knowing far more than he claimed to about the kidnappings.

And I doubted that any of his people here would dare to disturb their master for the next several hours, at least. Not with what everyone had to assume we were doing. If I was stealthy enough, I could soon find out more about Rafael than anyone else had in decades. That information might mean the difference between life and death for some unlucky young Partials who ventured into Nocturna even though they, like me, knew the dangers.

Besides, once Rafael woke up, I’d better be long gone from here, or guilt would be the least of my problems with him.

•   •   •

After what had to be two hours of furtive searching, I was both frustrated and confused. I’d found nothing interesting except a lot of neat, barbaric antiques, and for all that the castle was large, so far I’d only come across four guards. Two of them seemed most interested in protecting the food in what I surmised was the kitchen, from the sounds of laughter, burping, and pots clanging together. The other guards were outside the castle, patrolling the perimeter and making sure no one snuck in by swimming the moat, I guessed. What I couldn’t understand was why.

For all its size and impressive adornments, the place seemed strangely barren of people. It didn’t make sense. Rafael was renowned for his fighting skills, true, but everyone had to sleep eventually, and he’d left himself virtually unprotected here.

The thought of Rafael and sleeping made another twinge of guilt flare in me. God, his face when he realized what I’d done! Even though I tried to push the image aside, it rose in my mind anyway. He’d looked shocked, which I’d expected, but there had been more to it than that.

He looked betrayed, my human conscience whispered.

I had no choice, the demon in me snarled back.

There are always choices, my conscience countered ruthlessly.

Not this time. I’d asked Rafael repeatedly why he had been there the night Ashton had taken Gloria, and every time he answered, some part of me knew he was lying. Why would he lie if he hadn’t been in on it somehow? Add that to the whispers about Rafael that Gloria’s parents had uncovered during their previous searches here, plus the things I’d heard about how he was always conveniently close by when Purebloods were sighted, and it all added up to one thing: guilty. My not wanting it to be true because of a long-held infatuation didn’t change that.

So, if I were the guilty ruler of a large dimension populated by Partials who would descend on me en masse if they found out about my involvement, where would I hide evidence of that guilt? What would I consider to be the least likely place where someone could stumble across some form of damning clue that would tie me to Purebloods? Somewhere in this house, obviously. For the average Partial, it was harder to get inside Rafael’s castle than it was for a typical American to get a private audience with the president. But this place was huge. Damn it, if only I had more time to search! There could be hidden catacombs beneath the foundations, tunnels, vaults, secret rooms—

Rooms. An image of Rafael’s bedroom flashed in my mind. It was his private sanctuary, the place he never brought anyone back into. . . .

Holy shit, I was so stupid! I’d spent all this time looking around the castle when I should’ve been concentrating on turning his bedroom upside down. I spun around, hugging the wall as I made my way back toward the main part of the castle. It took several agonizingly stretched-out minutes during which I was sure I’d be discovered, but eventually, I made it close enough to recognize where Rafael and I had first come in.

Now, where had we gone from there again?

Two lefts past the fancy sword display, I began to chant to myself, easing past the corner before ducking out into the open hallway. Then right at the ancient-looking tapestry . . .

By the time I passed the blacked-out window on the third floor, I was sweating even though the castle corridors were chilly and drafty. Then, once I reached Rafael’s wide bedroom door, that sweat turned cold on my skin. Logic said he should still be out like a light, but what if I was wrong? I’d never tranqued a three-quarter demon—or possible Pureblood—before; how did I know how long the sedative would keep him out?

Only one way to find out. I took a deep breath, then gingerly opened the door, muscles bunched to run if I heard the slightest sound of movement within. When nothing but deep, rhythmic breathing met my ears, I dared to go all the way inside before closing the door quietly behind me.

Rafael lay right where I’d left him, his big body still in that elegant sprawl. Guilt flared in me once again, but I squashed it. If I was wrong, I’d wait for him to wake up and then offer the most sincere apology of my life, but until then, I had a job to do. I stepped around him, one hand on my gun just in case he’d been faking sleep to lunge at me. When he still didn’t move, I began my search.

I owed my animal reserve relative huge for this one.

Nothing was under the bed or in the three closets that artistically blended into the room. Of course. That would have been too obvious. I tapped along all the walls, feeling for any inconsistency in the stone that might mean a barrier. Then I piled pieces of furniture on top of each other to make a precarious ladder that I fell from twice before ascertaining that the opaque glass with the odd designs was not a gateway to another dimension.

Finally, prodded by a pinch from my bladder, I went into the bathroom. The tub was sunken, made of highly polished stone, and looked like it had a real faucet, too. When I was done using the toilet, it flushed just like a normal one. Rafael must have had a clever pumping system inside the castle to have pulled that off. The bathroom was pretty nice for one belonging to a bachelor, with towels neatly stacked on a stand by the tub, a stone sink with another authentic faucet, and even a faux picture-frame window with one of the plush drapes pulled back for artistic effect.

Who’d have thought a potentially evil demon ruler would have good decorating taste? Too bad there wasn’t anything in the bathroom that looked like it might be a barrier, though. Despair pricked me. What if all my efforts tonight were a waste, and all I’d succeeded in doing was tipping my hand to a powerful demon who was going to be so pissed when he woke up?

I left the bathroom, determined to search more of the castle again, when something nagged at me. I spun around, heading back into the bathroom, to run my hands over the fake window. It couldn’t be here. Not right out in the open like this . . .

When my hand slipped under the drapery to touch the wall behind it, I froze. Very slowly, I pulled away the entire drapery to reveal the wall, and a harsh sound escaped me.

This wasn’t a wall. It was a dimensional barrier. Two of them, in fact.

I traced my hand along the barriers, noting the difference in feel between them. The one on my left felt completely rigid, even colder than the stone wall around it, but the one on my right . . . ah. That felt pliant. Cautiously, I pressed against it, surprised when my entire hand slid through. I jerked back at once, seeing water clinging to my fingers before dripping onto the floor.

The one on the left was a barrier I couldn’t cross, which meant it must lead to a Pureblood dimension. Right here, under everyone’s noses, Rafael had hidden two gateways into the other side, and there was no innocent reason he would’ve done that. This discovery made me want to go over to Rafael’s supine form and start kicking him. All of my worst suspicions were confirmed. Rafael was in league with Purebloods, and no one had caught him because no one knew he had his very own private access in his bathroom, of all places. No wonder he didn’t keep a lot of people on staff in his house. He must not have wanted to increase the odds of anyone finding this and telling others.

Yet he’d brought me back here. For a second, I was confused. Why would he do that and risk my finding this barrier? But then, like a hot poker to my heart, I understood.

Rafael had had no intention of letting me leave. He hadn’t brought me back to his house because I was more special to him than any other girl; he’d brought me back because he’d been planning to give me a personal tour of the barrier when he pulled me through and delivered me up to some Purebloods! Maybe my spotting Ashton earlier had spooked him. Maybe he was just sick of me poking around asking questions. Whatever the reason, it was clear that he’d intended to eliminate the problem once and for all.

Jab, jab, jab! went that poker in my heart. What a fool I’d been.

I shook my head, disgusted to find my vision blurred. Rafael wasn’t worth my tears, and neither were my hurt feelings. If I should be crying for anyone, it should be Gloria and all the other Partials who’d suffered because of what lay in front of me. Grimly, I forced myself to focus, pressing again on the barrier to the right. My hand slipped inside just as easily as before, coming out dripping water once more. I could penetrate it, so this gateway had to lead back to my world.

My stomach roiled with nausea. Did Rafael allow Purebloods to go back and forth shuttling Partials through these two barriers? How easy that would be, and how private. Even if one of his people found traces that had been left after each passage, who’d think twice about water being splashed on a bathroom floor? No one, that’s who.

I left the bathroom, my fingers trembling with the urge for revenge as they curled around my gun. But when I stomped over to Rafael and stared down at him, despair replaced the rage seething in me. He deserved to be killed in his sleep for all he’d done, but even as I raised the gun, my hand wavered. Rafael looked almost angelic lying there, with golden russet hair draped over part of his face and his mouth slightly open. His beauty shouldn’t have mattered to me, nor should the memory of how I’d felt in his arms, but even though he deserved it, I knew, deep down, that I couldn’t pull the trigger.

My Partial side might have been howling at me to shoot and avenge my people, but killing Rafael felt wrong in every fiber of the rest of me. For once, the three-quarters of my humanity were stronger than even the urgings from one-quarter’s worth of seething, vengeful demon.

I lowered the gun and spun back around, heading into the bathroom. Maybe I couldn’t kill Rafael, but I could warn people about him. I wasn’t so weak that I couldn’t do that.

I stared at the barrier to the right. Wherever it opened up to, it was somewhere wet, so I’d better take some deep breaths first.

CHAPTER FIVE

I didn’t wait for Lena to put the car in park before I jumped into the passenger seat. My younger half sister gave my sodden clothes a disbelieving look before rubbing her nose.

“What is that smell?”

“You don’t want to know,” I replied shortly. Rafael’s portal had indeed opened up somewhere underwater. No wonder the location of the other gateway had remained hidden on this side for so long. What Partial in their right mind would go for an exploratory dive in the waters of a sewage treatment facility to stumble across it?

“Guess now I know why you told me to bring you a change of clothes. I would’ve brought a bucket of water and some bleach, too, if I’d known how much you’d stink—”

“Drive,” I cut Lena off in exasperation. “We don’t have much time. You don’t even know the shit that’s about to hit the fan.”

“You found something out about Gloria?” she asked, losing the mocking tone at once. To my relief, she also hit the gas, lurching the car forward with the carelessness of a teenager who’d only recently learned how to drive.

“Did you get ahold of Dad?” I replied, not answering that. If I could avoid involving my little sister in this, I would.

“Left a message, but you know his cell has crappy reception in the Bahamas. Bet that’s why they go there every year for their anniversary, so it’s harder for us to bug them.”

I agreed with her reasoning. Normally I wouldn’t begrudge my father or my stepmother their private time together, but it was more than an inconvenience now. Of course, his being out of town was why I’d chosen this weekend to break my promise by going back to Nocturna. I knew he’d never even realize I was gone, and Lena was fine staying home alone. She was more mature at sixteen than I’d been at that age.

“Aunt Nancy and Uncle David?” I asked next.

Lena shook her head. “At the movies. They’re supposed to go out to eat afterward, too.”

Damn it! It figured everyone would be unavailable when I had the most important news of my life to relay.

That left Lena. I gave her a hard look that she didn’t see as she concentrated on the road. More mature than I was at her age, for sure. And I had to tell someone before I went back. Just in case I didn’t return.

“Rafael’s involved in shuttling Partials out of Nocturna and into the next realm. He has two secret barriers in the bathroom of his castle.”

Lena swerved, narrowly avoiding another car before easing back into our lane to the tune of angry horns blaring.

Yeah, guess I should’ve had her pull over before I blurted that out.

“You’re shitting me!” she exclaimed.

I didn’t criticize her language, though my father would have, had he heard her use that word.

“I wish I were,” I said glumly while another tiny, invisible spear jabbed me in the heart.

“You saw the barriers yourself?” she went on, glancing at me.

“Maybe we should talk about this when you’re not driving—”

“I’m fine,” she cut me off, looking back at the road with a clenched jaw. “Go on.”

“I went through one of them to get here. It opens in the sewage facility a few miles back; that’s why I stink,” I said. “All I know about the other one is that it doesn’t lead to anything on this side, so I give you three guesses as to where it does go.”

Lena was silent as she absorbed this, getting onto the freeway. We were several cities away from the Bed Bath & Beyond gateway, and it was already afternoon. I had to get back to that gateway before dark or risk giving Rafael a whole day to think up a way to stop me from telling others what I’d discovered. He’d know I’d found the barriers. The puddle of water I’d probably left on his bathroom floor crossing over would be enough to let a smart bastard like him figure it out.

And if I gave him time, he might decide to come after more than just me. I glanced at Lena again. Maybe it was a good thing my father was out of town. In fact, Lena and my aunt and uncle should all follow suit.

“When you drop me off at the mall, I want you to go straight to tell Aunt Nancy and Uncle David what’s going on. I’ll tell everyone I can over in Nocturna. Maybe Jack’ll believe me, he’s a friend. Billy . . . I don’t know, but I’ll try. But even if not everyone believes me, I should be able to get enough of them riled up to demand to see that bathroom for themselves. Once they do, Rafael’s finished.”

Damn the little needles of pain those words caused me. What was the matter with me, still getting upset over the well-deserved fate of a murderer?

“Are you going to be all right?” Lena asked softly. “I know you’ve always had a thing for Rafael. . . .”

“I’m fine,” I said briskly, echoing her words from before. I didn’t want to talk about it, let alone think about it. “Got any paper towels in here?” I went on, changing the subject.

She pointed to the glove box. I opened it, relieved to see a travel pack of tissues and a tiny bottle of hand sanitizer. I should have just squirted the entire bottle all over me, but even that wouldn’t have been enough. Instead, I dabbed some on a tissue and flipped the vanity mirror down, determined to get the nasty grime off my face and hands, at least.

But one good look at my reflection made a scream escape me. Lena didn’t swerve again, though she yelled, “What the hell!” at the top of her lungs.

Words failed me. I squeezed my eyes shut, sending a fervent prayer to any god listening that I hadn’t seen what I had. Then, very slowly, I opened my eyes.

The five pinpoints of light around my pupils were still there, taunting me. I’d seen them before in other Partials’ eyes, such as my father’s when my real mother was alive. These weren’t the temporary flickers of illumination that happened during the heat of the moment. They were the mark of claiming for my kind, more intimate than a wedding ring and far harder to get rid of.

Despite my suspicions before, and what I’d found out afterward, at some point when I’d been in Rafael’s arms, the demon in me had decided I was his—and marked my eyes so everyone else would know it, too.

•   •   •

The lot’s exterior lights, set to switch on at the same time every evening, lit up right as Lena pulled into the Bed Bath & Beyond shopping complex. As if we needed reminding that we were almost out of time. She hit the gas as she swung the car around to the back and headed toward the Dumpster. My fingers had been drumming impatiently on the dashboard for the past ten minutes, but now I yanked the straps of my new backpack tighter on my shoulders. It had cost me a couple extra hours to fill it with the necessary contents, but no way was I going back into Nocturna unprepared.

Once Lena screeched to a stop by the Dumpster, I gave her a last, tight smile.

“Go straight to Aunt Nancy and Uncle David’s,” I reminded her.

“I will.” She grabbed me in a fierce, one-armed hug. “You come back, Mara,” she said, low and vehemently.

I nodded as I jumped out of the car. “I intend to.”

Then I ran at the Dumpster, seeing the faint shimmer around it grow dimmer. Adrenaline made my legs pump faster as I closed the scant distance. I’m going to make it, I’m going to make it! I chanted, as if willpower could force that gateway open for a few seconds longer. Then I leapt for the shimmer that surrounded the metal container right as it disappeared, bracing myself for the probable impact of slamming into it instead of Nocturna.

But in the next instant, my body hit soft earth instead of hard metal. Out of habit, I rolled to lessen the impact, feeling a split second of overwhelming relief that I hadn’t been too late. Then my survival instincts kicked in and I came up from my roll with both guns pointed.

No one right in front of me waiting to pounce, good. That didn’t mean I was off the hook for long. I heard multiple sets of hoofbeats, and they weren’t far from my location. I scrambled for a bush—the nearest cover I could find—and crouched there while I swiftly unhooked the backpack from my shoulders and dug through it. Two Glocks went into my gun belt, two more went into the homemade straps I’d fashioned at thigh level on my black jeans, and several extra clips of ammunition were tucked into my pockets. In addition to that—and in homage to Rafael—I put away several knives into homemade sheaths on the vest I wore over my fitted black shirt. Too bad I hadn’t been able to risk bringing grenades over, but I’d heard stories about the gateway activating the pins, which had never ended well for the carrier.

I might not have had time to wash the stink off me, but I’d managed to gather up as many weapons as I could carry. That was more important than smelling nice.

Once I emptied the backpack, I dug a shallow hole with my hands and covered it up with dirt. I had no use for the backpack anymore, and it would be unwieldy during a fight, but I didn’t want to leave an obvious sign of my presence. Then I waited for the space of a few heartbeats before easing out from behind the bush, my gaze darting around for the first sign of attack.

Those hoofbeats sounded closer, but I couldn’t see anyone yet. Of course, that meant they couldn’t see me, either. One good thing about Nocturna’s perpetual darkness and lack of electricity and batteries meant that hiding was a lot more efficient. Torchlight only went so far, after all.

Though if Rafael was out here, he might be able to see me in the dark. I still wasn’t sure if his increased vision meant he was a Pureblood himself, or if he just offered those gateways in his bathroom to Purebloods for profit. Didn’t really matter; either way, he was a murderer, and soon all of me would accept that and those damned lights in my eyes would go away. Until then, I’d treat them as a reminder of what happened when I ignored my suspicions about a man.

“Checking the south side again,” I heard a familiar voice call out, then the sound of hooves headed in my direction.

My heart leapt. Jack. Could I get him to listen to me before he sounded the alarm to the rest of the guards? We were friends, but he’d been employed by Rafael a lot longer than he’d known me.

I ran into a thicker part of the woods, weighing the decision. From the amount of extra hoofbeats, I could surmise that Rafael had woken up. He’d obviously sent more guards to watch the barrier, but not so many as to draw undue attention. Once again, he was being crafty. The only thing I had in my favor was the fact that the gateway spit people out anywhere along a ten-mile stretch on this side. Otherwise, I probably would have tumbled right into a steel cage with Rafael dangling the key just out of my reach.

Rafael. I cursed him as I continued to dart between the trees. How amused he must have been to see those five points of light in my eyes. He must’ve thought I was the most gullible Partial in the world. Well, I’d shown him when I’d dropped him like a stone with that tranquilizer, though oddly enough, the memory of the look on his face didn’t bring the satisfaction it should have. Only hollowness and echoes of pain.

You’ll get over it, I reminded myself bleakly. If I lived long enough, that was.

About fifty yards away, I heard Jack’s horse clamber through a patch of bushes. He was close to the same place I’d crouched in upon entering Nocturna. Jack always did have a knack for being the first to find people who’d crossed over. Maybe I could use that to my advantage now.

Or I’d have to shoot him and take his horse before he recovered, which I really didn’t want to do.

I went further ahead toward a denser part of the woods that would slow his horse down, deliberately cracking a twig or two along the way. It wasn’t long before Jack took the bait, changing course. He rode in a roundabout path, not spurring on his horse or charging straight for those sounds but pursuing me subtly. If I hadn’t been paying close attention—and stringing him along with those occasional twig snaps—I might not have been aware that he was onto me.

Best of Rafael’s guards by far. Had to hope he was the smartest, too, and that he believed me.

Once he was close enough that his torch would soon reveal me to his sharp eyes, I quietly climbed up a tree, sitting myself in a crook of branches. The leaves provided better camouflage than the tree trunks would. Then, keeping my gun trained on him, I waited for Jack to draw nearer.

After he passed directly beneath me, so close I could almost count the strands of the wide silver streak in his dark hair, I cocked the gun. The sound made Jack spin his horse around, pointing his own gun, though not high enough to be a danger.

I aimed very carefully, the light from his torch helping me. Then I pulled the trigger.

Jack’s gun blasted out of his hand with little more sound than a sharp cough. Silencers were a great invention, if you asked me. His horse reared, but Jack got it under control, wisely not reaching for one of his other weapons. Once his mount was still, he stared at his empty hand. Blood seeped out from some superficial cuts, but otherwise, he wasn’t hurt.

“That you, Mara?” he asked with a grunt.

“Before you yell for the others or do anything else,” I said rapidly, “just listen. I could’ve shot you five times in the past ten minutes if I wanted to, so that ought to prove I’m not your enemy. But Rafael is. He may or may not be a Pureblood himself, but he’s definitely in collusion with them. I know it sounds crazy, but I have proof.”

In the flickering torchlight, I saw that Jack’s mouth was hanging open. “Proof?” he asked at last. “What proof?”

“A set of secret gateways in his castle, one leading to my world, the other to a Pureblood realm,” I replied, jumping down from my perch in a show of good faith. “I saw them. I went through one. It’s true.”

Before replying, Jack sent his dark blue gaze raking over me, taking in the various weapons I had strapped on. “You were in his castle?” He sounded doubtful.

I nodded. “Last night . . . er, or it would’ve been last night, if you had day and night here. Some people from Bonecrushers saw us leave together, and we didn’t go to his hotel room, which you can confirm. I think Rafael brought me home because he intended to use that gateway to get rid of me permanently once he was done having fun with me.”

“And you stopped him? Managed to get away from him?”

He still sounded doubtful, but at least he was listening instead of yelling for the other guards. “I tranqued him when he wasn’t paying attention. He never even saw the needle coming.”

To my surprise, Jack began to laugh, though he kept it from being loud enough to draw attention to us. “You got the drop on Rafael?” he said at last, quieting his chuckles. “He must be beyond pissed at you.”

“I have no doubt,” I replied dryly. “But that’s not important. What is important is telling as many people here as we can so he’s stopped. You have to help me, Jack. He’s killing our kind, either directly or indirectly.”

“Where are these gateways in the castle?”

I took it as a good sign that he was asking about their location instead of questioning their existence. “In the bathroom attached to his bedroom. I’ve never seen two barriers so close together before, but they’re there. Trust me.”

Jack seemed to mull this over, the lines of his face deepening as he frowned. I waited, hoping that all the time we’d spent together before would serve me well now.

“It’s worth checking out,” he said at last. “We need to avoid the other guards, though. Rafael’s got a DOS out on you. If one of them sees you, he might take you back to Rafael no matter what you’d tell him.”

DOS, detain on sight. I had no doubt that the other guards would be less likely to hear me out, let alone believe me, since I didn’t know most of them.

“Get me to Bonecrushers. The more people who hear about this at the same time, the better. Not even Rafael can stand against a mob of pissed-off Partials.”

“Climb up,” Jack said, holding out his hand.

Despite the years I’d known him, I hesitated. What if Jack didn’t believe me and was just pretending so I’d be in the vulnerable position of having my back to him? He could shoot me, pistol-whip the back of my head, or even stab me, and there wouldn’t be much I could do about it.

“I’ll get on behind you,” I said, my hard tone letting him know that wasn’t negotiable.

He let out another grunt. “Suit yourself, Mara.”

Jack didn’t seem at all uneasy about giving me that kind of advantage. I shook my head, feeling ashamed. Being duped by Rafael made me give everyone a suspicious eye now, even people who didn’t deserve it.

“Sorry,” I murmured as I accepted his hand and climbed up behind him.

Jack spurred his horse once I was settled, dropping his torch into the first brook we came across with a muttered “Don’t need them seein’ you up here with me.” Instead of following close to the torch-strewn path that led into town, Jack went into the thicker part of the woods. After he gave up our only source of illumination and headed away from the path, the woods soon returned to their normal, almost impenetrable darkness. Jack seemed okay with it, though. He steered his horse confidently through the trees, making me wonder how many years he’d patrolled this particular section to get so familiar with it.

Very familiar with it, in fact, because he spurred his horse again even though I now couldn’t see more than a dozen feet in front of me.

“Should you be going so fast?” I called out, stretching to be closer to his ear so he’d hear me.

“Aren’t we in a hurry?” he countered, the words whistling by me as he kicked the horse to increase its pace even more.

Yes, I wanted to get to Bonecrushers as soon as possible. Definitely before one of Rafael’s guards spotted us, but riding at a gallop when you were mostly blind wasn’t my idea of smart. Even if Jack knew these woods like the back of his hand, he was only a quarter demon like me. So if I couldn’t see, then he couldn’t see—

The truth hit me right between the eyes, but unfortunately, so did the large overhanging branch that Jack saw in time to duck from and I didn’t.

My last thought before lights exploded in my mind was, Pureblood . . .

CHAPTER SIX

Icy water splashed over me. I came back into consciousness with a jerk, my senses sluggish but instinct warning me of danger. Remembering what had happened before my eyes even opened, I reached for my weapons but realized my hands were bound.

“Yep, that woke her,” Jack’s familiar voice noted with an undercurrent of laughter.

My gaze swung around as I tried to orient myself. It was very dark, but I could make out Jack standing several feet away on the edge of a river. I was in that river, getting chilled to the bone from the frigid water, someone big holding me in a tight grip from behind.

Must be Rafael, I realized, the sinking sensation in my stomach increasing until it felt like my gut had descended to my knees. I hadn’t told Jack anything about Rafael that Jack hadn’t already known, because Jack was a Pureblood, too. What if all the guards in Nocturna were Purebloods? Hell, what if half the population was, Partials being slowly weeded out under the watchful eye and instruction of its centuries-old ruler?

At least my family knows about Rafael, I thought with a pang. When I didn’t come back, they’d tell other Partials, too. Enough that even Rafael and his people wouldn’t be able to suppress them forever. It wasn’t the most compelling legacy to leave behind, but it was all I had.

“Best patrolman in Nocturna, huh, Jack?” I said bitterly while Rafael dragged me deeper into the river. I tried not to panic, not to wonder if drowning hurt, because I wanted to die fighting, not begging. “No wonder you were always first to discover who crossed over. You could see in the dark, you filthy Pureblood.”

“Aw, Mara, don’t be pissy,” Jack said in a chiding tone. “I told you to quit coming back looking for Ashton, but no, you just wouldn’t listen.”

“So it’s my fault you’re a murdering prick who devours the life essence out of children?” I spat, trying to kick even though my feet were bound, too.

I could barely see him now, but it looked like Jack shrugged. “I gotta eat just like you do. Can’t help it if my food is Partials.”

“All this talk of food is making me hungry,” a voice I hadn’t expected purred near my ear.

Every muscle in me stiffened. It wasn’t Rafael yanking me deeper into the river but Ashton!

I looked around again, but all I saw was the two of them. “Where’s Rafael?” I asked, my voice almost eerily calm.

Ugly laughter came from behind me. “Nowhere near here, baby. He doesn’t even know about this barrier, but thanks to you, now we know where another one is, too. Once we get rid of Rafael, we’ll have our choice of a few different barriers to play with. I can’t wait.”

“Get rid of Rafael . . .” I repeated, my eyes closing in the agony of revelation. Whatever Rafael had been doing hiding those barriers, he hadn’t been involved with Ashton. Or with Jack, or possibly with any other Pureblood.

And I’d used him, tricked him, drugged him, and now set him up with my family to take the fall. Drowning all of a sudden seemed too good an end for me. What had I done?

I didn’t have long to wallow in revulsion over my actions before Ashton’s hand clamped over my mouth, pinching my nose at the same time. Before I could react, a horrible crushing sensation enveloped my entire body, squeezing me so hard that my organs ached. I would’ve screamed, but between the pressure of Ashton’s hand and those merciless invisible bands compressing me, I couldn’t even gasp.

Then I was on my back, looking up not at the ceiling of a dark underground dwelling but at a sky the most amazing shade of purple. For a moment, I stared, not moving. Was I dead? Was this the afterlife? If so, it didn’t look all that bad—

“Get up,” Ashton’s voice snarled.

No, not dead. Unless this was hell and Ashton had arranged to personally greet me. I blinked, my eyes adjusting from the darkness of Nocturna to the new, hazy sort of sunset all around me. Ashton yanked on my bound hands, forcing me to my feet so abruptly that I stumbled into him. Yet I collided with him softly, as if something I couldn’t see cushioned my impact. My body felt different, too. Lighter, like I’d suddenly lost thirty pounds.

A sick tremor ran up my spine. Ashton must have pulled me through a barrier in the river. Now I was in the next realm, a place that I could never leave even if I did manage to get away from him.

“Like it here? This is where I took the girl you were with that night,” Ashton murmured, hauling my face right up next to his. His brown eyes gleamed. “You know, I don’t even remember her name—”

“Gloria,” I interrupted him through gritted teeth. “Her name was Gloria, she was my cousin, and she was sixteen years old, you piece of shit.”

He just smiled. “Whatever.”

Then he began to drag me toward some tall slabs of rocklike formations. With the odd, buoyant feel to the air, it seemed like it took him less effort than it would have on Nocturna, or even in the normal world. Gravity must not be as strong here. Why I cared, I had no idea, but the analytical part of me was taking note of my surroundings in far more detail than the fatalistic part of me was.

Warmer here than Nocturna. Gravity might be a little off, but oxygen levels must be similar or I’d be dead already. Lots of big, whitish formations, like a crystal forest around us. Gray fog everywhere. Dark blue ground underneath us, similar to sand. . . .

“Stop right there,” a hard voice thundered.

Ashton froze even as my heart constricted with a wild mixture of hope and disbelief. Rafael came out from behind one of those tall, smoky-colored pillars. His jacket, shirt, and vest were open, muscled arms crossed over his chest and leather-clad legs tucked inside knee-high boots. With the fog swirling around him, he looked like something out of a dream.

Or a hallucination. Maybe that’s what Rafael was, a trick my subconscious had formulated as a way to buffer me from the horrors of my reality. Then, just as quickly, I discarded that thought. Rafael couldn’t be a mirage, because it was clear that Ashton could see him, too.

“How did you get here?” Ashton demanded.

I wondered the same thing myself. I’d abandoned the idea that Rafael was a Pureblood after Jack and Ashton revealed he wasn’t involved in any of their dirty workings. Yet here he was, and only Purebloods could cross the barrier—unless Rafael had somehow managed to get a Pureblood to pull him through?

“I’ll give you one chance to die with your essence intact,” Rafael replied, each word bitten off with palpable fury. “Let her go now, and I’ll only take your life as punishment for what you intended to do to her.”

My mouth dropped even as Ashton’s grip on me tightened. Maybe the different atmosphere in this realm was messing with my mind, because Rafael couldn’t mean what that sounded like. . . .

“You,” Ashton said hoarsely. “That night, I couldn’t see your face, but it was you—”

“Yes,” Rafael cut him off, flinging aside his coat, shirt, and vest in one fluid movement. Then, as if out of a nightmare, I saw shadows begin to form behind him. Those shadows grew, darkening, solidifying . . . until a pair of charcoal-colored wings spread out in terrifying, magnificent formation, extending well past Rafael’s shoulders with their lighter tips trailing all the way to his feet.

Not a Partial or a Pureblood. Fallen.

Ashton flung me away from him as he ran. With my hands and feet still bound, I landed face-first on the sandy indigo ground instead of catching myself. Something whooshed over me, punctuated by a scream from Ashton. It took a second or two of awkward twisting, but I finally managed to flop over—and then stared.

Rafael had Ashton in his arms. Between the fog and the incredible span of his wings, I couldn’t see everything clearly, but it looked like Rafael had his mouth pressed to Ashton’s in a chilling parody of a kiss. Ashton bleated in terror, kicking and flailing against Rafael’s ruthless embrace, but to no avail. After several long moments while I watched, transfixed, Ashton’s movements slowed and his head fell back. When Rafael let go of him, he fell to the ground with a limpness that spoke of permanence.

Lights seemed to flicker in a spiderweb pattern over Rafael’s skin before they faded, vanishing into his natural creamy skin tone. Part of me was howling that now would be a really good time to attempt running, bound feet or no, but I didn’t move as Rafael turned and began to walk toward me.

“Am I next?” I rasped, mildly surprised that I could still talk after what I’d just witnessed.

Those unbelievable wings fluttered once before Rafael reached down, breaking through the duct tape around my wrists as though it were tissue paper. He did the same thing with my feet, until the sticky substance still clung to my skin but no longer restrained me.

“I told you before, Mara; if I wanted to eat you, I would’ve done so years ago,” he replied, no emotion in his tone or in his gaze. Then he hauled me into his arms, his grip unyielding, that lovely, killing mouth mere inches from my own.

I stared at him, barely able to breathe, thinking that if my heart beat any faster, it would burst.

“But now you know what I am, so you know what I do eat,” he whispered before brushing his lips over mine.

Then the air exploded around us as his wings lifted and fell, vaulting us upward into that deep violet sky while Ashton’s lifeless body lay below on the ground.

CHAPTER SEVEN

From the glimpses I caught when I wasn’t fighting off nausea from the dizzying dips and ascents, this realm looked like a cross between Antarctica and the Grand Canyon, except in different colors. Rows of crystal formations—or their mineral counterparts—littered the ground, interspersed by streams, that bluish sand, and something that resembled a forest of tumbleweed trees, of all things. We seemed to be the only people in the sky, to my relief. If I’d seen swarms of flying Fallen, I might have passed out on the spot.

Rafael was a Fallen. The proof of that was winging us to who-knew-where, yet I still had a hard time reconciling the fact. Fallen were ancient beings supposedly so twisted that they were banished to the middle dimensions because neither the highest nor the lowest ones wanted them. They were said to remain small in number because they ate their young. I’d even heard that the Pureblood species had come about only because the Fallen were so promiscuous that they hadn’t managed to destroy all their offspring before they’d interbred enough to form into their own race of demons. Purebloods interbreeding with humans later resulted in Partials, but by then, the bloodlines had been altered enough to make my race able to survive without feeding off the essence of others.

If the history of the Fallen was true, then I should have been paralyzed with terror right now. But, inexplicably, I wasn’t. Rafael’s arms were tight around me, but not with the careless, bruising force Ashton had used, and the knot of bitter despair that had resided in my gut since I’d woken up in the river had eased into a nervous fluttering. Rafael might take out some payback on me for drugging him, but I didn’t feel in danger of being murdered. That had been my first thought when I’d seen his wings, true, but if Rafael wanted me dead, all he’d have to do was let go. At this height, I’d splatter on the ground in an indistinguishable pile of goo.

All of a sudden, Rafael swooped downward, causing my stomach to lift in a way that made me glad I hadn’t eaten recently. Who knew how a Fallen would react to puke all over his wings? I might not be in imminent lethal danger, but I didn’t want to push my luck, either. Through eyes narrowed into slits, I saw we were headed right for a big crystal mountain. As the seconds passed, I waited for Rafael to swerve, but he flew in a straight line, his wings cleaving the air to eat up the distance between us and that huge, solid obstacle.

“Rafael . . .” I began, tapping on his chest.

His mouth curled, but he only flew faster. My tapping turned into a frantic pummeling as less than a hundred yards remained between us and that crystal tower of destruction. What was the matter with him? It wasn’t like the mountain was going to swerve first!

“Rafael!” I screamed, bracing for the unavoidable impact—

At the last second, he tilted, flying us sideways into a fissure I didn’t see until we were already in it. From then on, I kept my eyes shut, deciding that was the wiser course of action or he’d have more than puke to clean off his dark gray feathers.

After several more abrupt turns and swerves, all motion stopped, and I felt something solid beneath my feet. For a long moment, I just stood there, panting and trying to quiet my ominously rumbling stomach.

“Please tell me there’s a gateway back to my world inside this mountain and that’s why you brought us here,” I said when I felt settled enough to talk.

“No.”

I opened my eyes, meeting his hooded cobalt gaze. “No, there isn’t a gateway? No, that isn’t why you brought us here? Or no, you won’t tell me?”

He shrugged, releasing me from his grip. “Either way, the answer is still no,” he replied in an intractable tone.

That stiffened my spine. Okay, I owed him an apology—several, in fact, plus a huge thank-you for killing Ashton—but if he hadn’t been sneaking around and lying to me in the first place, I wouldn’t have jumped to all the wrong conclusions later.

“I need to get back to my realm,” I said, trying to sound very reasonable. “There are some issues I have to clear up—”

“They’ll wait,” he said, both words spaced while his brow ticced up in challenge.

Recklessness made me forget that I should try a sweet, charming approach. I jabbed him in the chest, stepping forward until our toes were almost touching.

“I need to go back so I can help clear your name, damn it, so you might want to—oof!”

Rafael picked me up, throwing me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. I would have screamed, but he’d done it so suddenly that the breath had been knocked out of me.

“Put me down!” I managed, kicking him as best I could.

“No,” he said calmly, keeping me steady with only one arm. “This way, I know you won’t be going anywhere until I’ve said what I need to say.”

From my position, with his wings cradled around me, I had a great view of his muscled legs as he strode down what looked like a long hallway. Then he stopped right as I caught a glimpse of another set of legs ahead, but these were distinctly feminine. I tried to angle myself upward to see whom those legs belonged to when Rafael began walking again, jostling me.

“Rafael,” a clear voice demanded. “What do you think you’re doing with that female?”

“Taking her to my room to ravish her, Mother,” he replied shortly.

My jaw dropped, both at his words and at the ebony wings I caught a glimpse of when Rafael turned a corner and I saw more of the woman. Then nothing but walls met my vision when he rounded another bend.

Not just one Fallen but two to contend with. I was so screwed, and not just in the way Rafael had outlined.

“Eh, I’ll see you afterward, then,” she replied in a disinterested voice, adding credence to the harsh rumors I’d heard about their race.

Yet they couldn’t all be cruel. Rafael had saved me. Twice. If I had to make a judgment now, Fallen would outrank Purebloods on a kindness scale, no matter their fearsome reputation.

As for the ravishment, I took that as sarcasm instead of nefarious intent. Rafael might have blown my mind by revealing that he was a Fallen, but I didn’t believe he was a secret rapist, too. No, he was the type of man who relished sensual surrender instead of brute force, as he’d proved in the carriage. The memory of that, combined with how long it had been since I’d had sex, made the prospect of being alone with him more enticing than daunting, Fallen or no.

Rafael deposited me inside a large, triangular room with crystal walls forming a point at the high, high ceiling. Light glowed from some of those crystals, bathing the room with a soft bluish tinge. A pool of silver water took up one corner, an assortment of thick pillows was piled in another, and a desk that looked formed from the wall took up the final corner. I didn’t wait for Rafael to speak but walked over to the shining pool, kneeling by it with a questioning look.

“Is this safe for Partials?”

“Yes, but there’s no barrier in there, if that’s what you’re thinking,” he replied in a silky voice.

I kicked off my shoes. “I’m thinking that I still smell like a sewer and I’d like to change that. You should be all for this idea. It’ll make your whole ravishment plan a lot more palatable for you.”

His mouth quirked, confirming my belief that he’d never intended that, before his expression became stern. “Don’t try to joke your way out of this, Mara. I’m still very angry with you.”

“I don’t blame you.” Spoken as I began to unbutton my shirt. Nothing put a man in a better mood than watching a woman strip, as Rafael’s fading scowl proved. Jack and Ashton had already taken my vest, gun belt, and weapons, so I had less to take off than what I’d started out with.

He watched me, his wings shifting and then folding back in a compilation of movements that somehow shrank them until I couldn’t see them anymore. How could he hide them so completely? True, I hadn’t seen Rafael’s bare back before, but he’d never looked like he’d had a large hump under his clothes.

“Turn around,” I said, wondering if he’d refuse.

Slowly, he turned, revealing wide, muscled shoulders, a narrow waist, and a set of odd, slight ridges that ran along his spine from its base to his neck. Impossibly, that was all that remained of the wings that had reached from his head down to his feet.

“How?” I asked, my voice coming out throatier than before.

“Magic,” he replied, facing me once more.

I swallowed at the intensity in his eyes, their vibrant blue shade already dusting over with tiny little lights. “I’m serious,” I told him.

“So am I.” He spread his arms, and those incredible wings unfurled again, their dark span reaching a foot past his fingertips and their breadth twice as wide as his body. Then he lowered his arms, and just as swiftly, those wings curled up, disappearing from sight.

“There’s no scientific explanation for these,” he went on, his tone making gooseflesh break out over my skin. “They defy reason and natural order. Fallen were made before those things even existed.”

I stood there in my bra and black jeans, feeling somewhat awed by the man in front of me, wishing I hadn’t thought that my taking a bath would distract him from being angry. It was too late to change my mind, though.

I unzipped my jeans and stepped out of them, feeling his gaze move over me despite the fact that I didn’t meet his eyes. Then I quickly lowered myself into the pool without taking off my bra or panties. Good thing it wasn’t cold, because my nipples were already hard from a mixture of excitement and nervousness. It was deep enough that I sank into the water up to my shoulders, noting that the shiny liquid felt different—thicker, like salt water but without the grittiness. Within moments, my skin began to tingle, but not in an unpleasant way.

“The water in that pool is similar to hydrogen peroxide, so the tickling you’re feeling is it dissolving away dirt and bacteria,” Rafael said, as if reading my mind. “And I’m not one of the original Fallen,” he went on, lowering himself into a sinuous crouch only a dozen feet away. “My mother is, but my father was a Pureblood. So while I have wings like my mother’s people and I feed on Purebloods, I’m not like the other Fallen you’ve heard of.”

I swallowed at the faintly ominous way he said that last sentence. “Are the other Fallen, the original ones . . . are they anything like their reputations?”

“They’re exactly like their reputations,” he replied flatly, making me shudder at the blunt confirmation of all the terrible things I’d heard. “My mother let me live because my wings were a curiosity to her. Most mixed-blood children don’t have those, though I’ve met a few others like me over the centuries. After I was born, she sent me to stay with my father in the normal world so I would age into a man. Once I had, she brought me to this realm and taught me how to hunt Purebloods.”

I couldn’t imagine such an upbringing. Partials were raised differently than regular kids, yes, what with being able to see dimensional barriers and knowing the world was made up of many different realms. But we didn’t grow up knowing we’d escaped being eaten by our parents only because of a genetic fluke. Or learning how to kill people—even if Purebloods deserved it.

“Your father? Is he here, too?” I asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.

A small, grim smile touched Rafael’s mouth. “When I was still young and living in the normal world, my mother visited unexpectedly and caught my father with another woman. He did not survive her displeasure.”

Holy crap, what a twisted family he came from! I’d be happy if that one brief glimpse of his mother was all I ever saw of her. Clearly, the woman was homicide on heels.

“If she’s so evil,” I said, making my voice very, very low, “then why do you have a room here, where she is?”

Rafael slid closer, until he could reach out and trail his fingers in the silvery water of the pool. “What do you think the biggest deterrent is for Purebloods looking to populate this realm as a permanent home? There aren’t many Fallen left, but the presence of even one will make most Purebloods fear to enter. And if there are fewer Purebloods crossing through this realm to get to one where Partials are plentiful . . .”

His voice trailed off, but I could fill in the rest. Purebloods flocked to where their food sources were—dimensions that Partials could cross into, like Nocturna. Without a safe dimension to drag their prey back into, the Purebloods were putting themselves at risk. They might be stronger than Partials one on one, but get enough of us together and we could kick some Pureblood ass.

The old expression ran through my mind: My enemy’s enemy is my friend. Fallen were Purebloods’ enemy, so they were a friend to Partials like me . . . as long as we didn’t get too close to them.

“And the barriers in your bathroom?” But now that I knew what Rafael was, I could already guess.

His shoulder lifted in a half shrug even as he pulled off his boots. “The ruler of Nocturna before me built the castle around them so that Purebloods wouldn’t find out about them and use them. I kept them a secret for the same reason. They also made it easier for me to cross into this realm to hunt without being observed.”

Right. Because if anyone saw Rafael cross through a barrier, they’d know he was more than a Partial. But would that necessarily be a bad thing?

“If your mother’s presence keeps most Purebloods out of this realm, why haven’t you revealed what you are in Nocturna? Wouldn’t the sight of your wings keep more Purebloods away?”

“No one knows where my mother’s home is located, aside from me, and if other Purebloods knew what I was, I wouldn’t long be safe in Nocturna.”

Of course. If Partials knew a Pureblood’s home address, we’d show up with some friends to drop off a welcome basket filled with Rest In Peace. It stood to reason that Purebloods would do the same to a lone Fallen.

Which brought up another, very obvious question. “Why are you telling me all this? To convince me to keep your secret?”

Rafael leaned forward until only a foot of that silvery, tingling water separated his face from mine.

“I’m telling you because a demon should know everything about her mate,” he said softly, but with enough resonance for the words to hit me like a sledgehammer.

In the midst of my shock over discovering that Rafael was a Fallen, I’d forgotten about those five points of light in my eyes marking me for all to see as a claimed demon. Absurdly, I looked away, as if that made them any less obvious.

“Look, I don’t—”

“Do you want to know the real reason why I was in the woods that night when you were a teenager?” he interrupted.

That redirected my attention from what I’d been about to say, which was a lame rationalization, anyway. “You’re finally going to tell me the truth?”

A thick lock of golden-red hair fell over his shoulder as he nodded. “When I was a boy, my mother told me that Fallen knew their mates by sight. I asked how, and she said because we recognized them. That didn’t make sense at the time, and as only a half-Fallen, I didn’t know if it was a trait I’d inherited or not. But that night I saw you at Bonecrushers, even though I’d never set eyes on you before . . . I knew you. It only took one glance to feel a part of me saying ‘this is her, my mate, the person I’ve waited centuries for.’ ”

It felt like my heart stopped beating. Then it restarted in a rush when Rafael slid into the pool with me, not even pausing to take off his leather pants. The water barely rippled as it enveloped him up to his chest, and his gaze held mine captive as he reached out to stroke my cheek.

“I was in the woods because I was following you, even though I fought to stay away because you were barely more than a child. Still, I had to speak to you, at least once, before sending you back to your world. My delay coming after you ended up costing the life of your kinswoman, and for that, I am deeply sorry. But I was there that night for you, Mara, no other reason.”

Emotions welled up in me, pulling my heart in different directions at the same time. I wanted to respond to his incredible declaration of me being his mate, but it was so beyond anything I’d allowed myself to consider that I tried to focus on what I could grasp.

“Gloria,” I breathed unsteadily. “You could cross realms. Why didn’t you go after her when Ashton pulled her through?”

“I did go after her, but only once I’d seen you safely back to your realm. I couldn’t risk leaving you in the woods where Purebloods and other dangers lurked. I looked, but I never found her, Mara. I also looked for the Pureblood who’d taken her, but until today, I didn’t find him, either.”

Poor Gloria. Familiar sadness rose in me, comforted by the memory of Ashton’s last, terrifying moments. At last, Gloria had been avenged, and the knowledge of that would soon soothe the rest of my family even as we’d always mourn her.

“Rafael . . .”

I didn’t know what to say as I stared at him, feeling the impossibly strong, smooth touch of his hand on my cheek. His gaze was intense, eyes flashing with tiny diamonds of light around those dazzling blue irises—

Flashing. Not stationary, like those five points of light in my eyes. My heart sank while disillusionment coursed like vinegar through my veins. He might think I was the one for him, but his eyes didn’t bear the mark of a claimed demon. Rafael was far closer in bloodlines to the source of our race; shouldn’t this trait be even more apparent in him? Some Partials never displayed those star points in their gazes, and it wasn’t out of lack of love but too much dilution of bloodlines.

“You’re wrong about me, Rafael. Your eyes prove it.”

I glanced away as I spoke so I wouldn’t do something humiliating, like cry. For a few seconds, I’d felt happier than I had ever been at the idea that the man I’d secretly longed for since I was a teenager was really mine. Now that happiness turned to crushing disappointment when I realized Rafael’s very gaze proved that he wasn’t.

A low laugh rumbled from his chest even as he pulled me into his arms.

“I see you were taught the innocent version of what prompts the claiming metamorphosis.” His tongue traced my ear, making shivers break out over me. “Your eyes changed only after you climaxed with me. I haven’t had the chance to share the same pleasure with you, but I intend to correct that. Now.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

Any hesitation I’d had over him being a Fallen vanished at the surge of need his words elicited. I slid my arms around him, letting my head fall back under the insistent demand of his mouth. His tongue teased me, probing my galloping pulse, teeth gently nipping. I traced over the hard sinews of his shoulders to his back, fingers brushing over the unusual ridges as I brought our bodies closer.

He arched and a groan came from him that sounded almost pained. Startled, I snatched my hands back, pulling away to look at him.

“Did I hurt you?”

“No.” His voice was hoarse. “Those are . . . very sensitive.”

Then he kissed me, backing me against the side of the pool to press his body fully along mine. His arms caged me while his warm, muscular chest, stomach, and legs lined up with my own, the delicious hardness of his erection prodding me even through his soaked leather pants. I moaned into his mouth as I arched against him, feeling my loins greedily clench at the increased contact, the buoyancy of the water allowing me to curl my legs around his waist as I did it again.

His hands traveled down my back to my ass, firmly kneading and pulling me tighter against him. Each twist and rub sent shocks of aching pleasure through me, building in intensity, until I hazily realized that I’d come if he didn’t stop now.

“Not like this again,” I gasped, tearing my mouth away. “I want you inside me. No, make that I need you inside me.”

His mouth curled into a sensual smile as he unhooked my bra. “I’ve waited a long time for you, Mara. Too long to rush this.”

My loins twisted in protest at the thought of delaying. How could he expect me to be patient when that bulge in his pants clearly showed he wanted me as much as I burned for him? He looked even more staggeringly gorgeous, too, with beads of silver water clinging to his body and making his skin silkier to the touch. Wait? What idiot invented that concept?

I slid my hands beneath the water to his pants, enjoying his intake of breath as I unzipped them. His mouth crushed over mine when I reached inside to clasp him, more heat slamming through me as his length filled my hands.

Oh hell no was I waiting, no matter that he wanted to take things slow.

“Mara,” he moaned against my mouth when I began to stroke him with firm pumps, each slide of his flesh making that tightening in my loins almost painful. He might have enough control for extended foreplay, but I didn’t. What was that he’d said in the carriage? That he could keep from taking me right then, as long as I didn’t keep doing what?

That’s right, touching his back, because he had all those “sensitive” ridges running on either side of his spine. Triumph flared in me. You’re mine now!

His mouth slid down to my breast, closing over a nipple with enough passionate intensity to clear my head of all thought. A cry wrenched out of me even as I tried to ignore the continued sharp throbs of pleasure that sought to undo my intentions with mindless bliss. Before I got lost in the sensations, I let go of his amazing hardness to run my hands almost roughly down the ridges in his back.

His response was electric. Rafael jerked like I’d struck him, his eyes closing and a pure animalistic groan tearing out of him. He tried to grab my arms, but the water helped me wriggle away as I whipped around him to rub my bare body against those ridges next.

Something between a growl and a shout reverberated across the room. The muscles in his back bunched and rippled in spasms while those ridges grew, rasping my skin. I only had a split second to wonder if I’d pushed him too far when he spun around, the water seeming to explode as he vaulted us out of the pool, ripping away his pants and my panties with the same savage swipe. Then nothing registered except the crush of his mouth on mine, until a rush of movement made me open my eyes even as I felt something soft at my back.

Rafael was on top of me, his wings extended and rising like a dark canopy above us. Their ends curled downward to rest on either side of him, the soft edges of his feathers teasing my sides. Somehow, the framework in his wings supported him enough that his hands were free. He grasped my thigh and my neck at the same time, his mouth claiming mine in a burning kiss while he raised my hips.

“Yes,” I choked as I felt the thick, blunt head of him pushing at my center. Then I gasped at the hard cleaving of his flesh into mine, his heat filling me with a thrust that sheathed him in one stroke. His mouth muffled the cry I made as he began to move, that deep inner friction turning the burn of my desire into an inferno. I dug my fingers into his back beneath his wings, loving the fierce rhythm of his thrusts, arching to take him deeper even as I wondered if I could stand it.

He reached down, cupping my breast and pinching my nipple with sensual roughness while his other hand held my thigh in a grip that I didn’t want him to loosen. The hard silkiness of his skin, those deep, incredible thrusts, the throbs in my nipple, the demanding ardor of his mouth . . . all of it was too much. Quivers of rapture turned into shudders as I cried out, my loins seizing with an ecstasy that each continued thrust only intensified, until I was shaking with the force of my climax.

His hand left my breast and he gripped my hips with both hands, his thrusts becoming faster, harder. I broke our kiss to gasp in breaths that ended in moans at his intensity. Almost blindly, I reached past the smoothness of his back, finding those ridges between the new, wide stretches of flesh that supported the magnificence of his wings.

Rafael arched, throwing his head back while moving even faster. Our voices rose in a series of groans, his sharper than mine as he increased his pace even more. I was beyond thought, lost in the minefield of sensations that sent more and more bursts of pleasure along my nerve endings, until at last, he gave a guttural shout. His body stiffened while pulses of heat filled my loins, making me cry out as well. More deep thrusts followed, extending the pleasurable waves within me until finally Rafael stilled, his head dropping against my breasts while he took in ragged breaths.

My eyes fluttered shut while I continued to pant, bliss still tingling through me. After a few minutes, Rafael dragged his mouth up to my jaw, kissing it, his hands caressing me even as the last of the tremors subsided within me. He shifted slightly, but I didn’t want him to pull away yet, so I hooked my leg around his hip with a noise of protest.

His laugh tickled my neck as his mouth slid there next. “Greedy, aren’t you? I love it.”

“I need you like this . . . just a little longer,” I managed, the words spaced because I was still out of breath.

“Mara.” His hands slid up to cup my face. “You’re my mate. I’ll be with you this way for a very, very long time.”

Even in the midst of my reveling over those words, fear snaked up my spine. I wanted so badly for it to be just like he said, but what if when I opened my eyes, his were exactly the same as they had been? No pinpoints of light marking him as claimed because he’d been wrong about me? I’d rather face a horde of Purebloods than see that. My heart wouldn’t be able to stand it.

Something wet slid down the side of my temple and I caught my breath as I felt him wipe it away.

“Mara.” His voice was hoarse. “Don’t doubt me for a moment longer. Open your eyes.”

I took in a choppy breath. “Rafael, if it’s not—”

“I’m yours,” he cut me off, brushing a kiss across my lips. “I’m more sure of that than I’ve been of anything. Now, open your eyes so you can be sure of it, too.”

Very slowly, I did, his dark wings the first things I saw. Then, my heart pounding, I met his unblinking sapphire gaze.

Tears immediately overflowed my eyes, blurring his features, but it didn’t matter. I’d seen enough. A laugh bubbled out of me even as my arms tightened around him until I must have been half strangling him.

“I told you,” he murmured, squeezing me back but far more gently.

I pushed him away after a moment, blinking to clear my gaze so I could see those five pinpoints of light in his eyes again. To me, they were more beautiful than a basket full of diamonds.

“I’m going to make you so happy,” I promised in a voice gone scratchy from emotion.

His laugh became huskier while his hands began to travel down my back.

“I intend to make you happy as well, but slower this time.”

•   •   •

I lay stretched across Rafael’s chest, his wings gone except for those ridges decorating his spine, when his voice broke the peaceful silence.

“Tranquilizer shot. Very clever.”

Inwardly I cringed, but in reality, my muscles didn’t even twitch. My body felt like it was in a permanent state of euphoric lethargy after the past couple hours.

“Sorry. With everything I’d heard and how I knew you were lying to me about certain things, I thought you might be a Pureblood. Fallen never even crossed my mind.”

He dropped a kiss onto my shoulder. “It doesn’t with most people. That’s how I’ve managed to hide what I am for this long.”

I rolled over to look at him. “I told my family horrible things about you. Among other important actions, I need to clear that up with them right away. I don’t want them shooting their future son-in-law on sight.”

A hint of a grin tugged at his mouth. “No, that wouldn’t do.” Then his expression sobered. “I’ve already surmised that you went back to Nocturna intending to tell everyone what you thought you’d discovered about me. What happened? Did Ashton catch you unawares in the forest?”

“No, Jack set me up,” I said, cursing to myself at the memory. “I trusted him, so I told him about you, thinking if I had his support, other Partials would be more likely to believe me. But he knocked me out, and I woke up with him snickering as Ashton dragged me into a river where another barrier was.”

Rafael’s mouth curled downward. “Jack,” he repeated bitterly. “He hid what he was well over the past century. Out of my men, I suspected him the least.”

“Which others of your men did you suspect?” If Billy was also a Pureblood, I’d never trust my judgment in people again.

He listed a few people that, thankfully, I wasn’t friends with. Then again, that didn’t mean they were guilty and Billy was innocent. Or that any of them were guilty, for that matter. Wouldn’t it be a relief if all of them were innocent?

“What if Jack is the only Pureblood hiding in Nocturna?” I offered.

Rafael gave me a dark look. “There are at least two more. Every time the barriers are breached, I can feel it as a Fallen. That is why I knew to come to this realm looking for you. I felt one person enter Nocturna, and then soon after, two people cross over to this side. I correctly feared one of them was a Pureblood and the other was you.”

I shook off the suffocating, squeezing memory of being pulled through the dimensions. “So while you can’t tell if someone’s a Partial or Pureblood when the first barrier into Nocturna is breached, if the second one’s parted, you know you’ve got at least one Pureblood wandering around.”

“Exactly.”

And I’d thought that as ruler of Nocturna, Rafael had his hands full just keeping a bunch of partial demons in line. Little had I realized that was the least of his concerns.

“We need to get Jack to tell us who the other Purebloods are, fast. Before they escape through the second barrier, which you know will be the first place they’ll run once you take Jack into custody.”

“If they do, I’ll follow them,” he replied with deadly emphasis.

“And blow your cover?” I reminded him. “If someone catches you crossing those barriers, your masquerade as a Partial is over. Plus, even if you do follow them, you might not catch them. I haven’t seen all of it, but this realm looks huge. I’m beyond lucky you found me in time, but with a little head start, those Purebloods might get away permanently.”

There was also the other, uncomfortable possibility, that because of me, Jack had turned the opinions of Nocturna’s residents against Rafael. I’d told Jack where the other barriers were, and I’d told my family that Rafael was in league with Purebloods. At least several hours had passed since I left my sister in the Bed Bath & Beyond parking lot. Who knew how many other Partials she might have repeated my former, erroneous beliefs about Rafael to? Combined with Jack’s support, that meant Rafael could be slaughtered on sight.

“You can’t go back until we know who the others are,” I said, steeling myself for the fight I knew would come with my next words. “Because of what I told people, it’s too risky for you. I’m the one who has to catch Jack and get him to talk.”

Rafael sat up, crossing his arms over the sculpted beauty of his chest. “That is too dangerous—”

“I got the drop on Jack before,” I interrupted, my tone hardening. “This time, I won’t give him a chance to take advantage of my trust. Besides, I’m the last person Jack will expect to come after him. He might be on the lookout for you, but Jack thinks I’m nice and dead with my essence keeping Ashton’s tummy warm.”

Rafael still had a look of utter objection on his face. I sighed, reaching out to smooth my hand across his clenched jaw.

“I owe Jack for what he did to me, and for what he helped Ashton do to Gloria. You’ll have your own battles in the future that I won’t be able to fight for you, even though I’ll want to, but this one? It’s mine, and if you respect me as your mate, you’ll let me fight it.”

Rafael didn’t say anything for a long moment. I waited, my stomach churning. His response would either strengthen our relationship, setting a foundation that we could grow on despite our differences in age, race, and abilities, or fracture our new bond under the weight of stubbornness and chauvinism disguised as chivalry.

“Once you’ve secured Jack,” Rafael said slowly, to the accompanying burst of joy in my heart, “you’ll need help to get him to talk.”

I hugged him, feeling his fierce answering embrace and promising silently that I’d be the best damn mate in the history of demonkind. Then I let him go before the hard, sensuous feel of his body led to less planning and more time spent on the cushions.

“I know Jack’s got to rat out his kinsmen quick, before anyone gets word of what’s going on. I like the idea of sticking him with some hot pokers to get him to talk, but even that might take too much time.”

“I’ll show him what I am,” Rafael said in a quiet, frightening voice. “That should get him to talking.”

It no doubt would, but that presented its own set of problems. If Rafael flashed those incredible wings at Jack, then we’d have to kill him right away so Jack didn’t report what Rafael was to anyone else. No, it was better if Jack was left alive so his guilt could be shown to all the Partials in Nocturna, clearing Rafael’s name against anything Jack—or I—had said against him.

A wild idea formed in my mind. I stood up, ignoring the flare of heat that rippled through me when Rafael’s gaze lingered over my body.

“There are gateways back to Nocturna in this mountain, aren’t there?”

Rafael inclined his head toward the large crystal desk in the corner. “Inside that is the gateway that opens in my castle.”

He could travel between realms straight from one bedroom into another? Talk about convenient, and that worked out even better for what I had in mind.

I gave Rafael a wicked smile. “I know we’re not going to have a conventional relationship, but I’m going to ask my new mother-in-law for a wedding present anyway.”

CHAPTER NINE

I ran through the woods, close enough to the main lighted path of lanterns that I wasn’t worried about colliding with a tree, but far enough away that I shouldn’t have been easily visible to the mounted patrols. Of course, at least one guard didn’t need lanterns to see, but I wasn’t worried about Jack. He wasn’t patrolling the woods. He was up ahead by the barrier, ready to be the first to greet—and size up—any new entrants into Nocturna.

Still, I slowed down when I was within a hundred yards of the clearing that skirted the barrier and picked my way more cautiously through the trees. No need to screw things up by being impatient. Then, once I was close to the cross section that marked the beginning of the lighted path before the clearing, I hunkered down on all fours, digging quietly.

When I was satisfied with the shallow ditch I’d created, I crawled into it, covering myself back up with dirt and some nearby fallen leaves. Only my hands and my face were left exposed, and I’d already camouflaged my skin to blend more with the forest floor. My dark brown hair didn’t need any additional help to blend in, so with my new nest and the darkness, I should have been nearly invisible.

Long minutes ticked by. I was glad no watches worked in this realm, or I would have been checking the time incessantly. Instead, I sought to stem my edginess by thinking back over everything that had led me to this moment. Gloria’s excited smile flashed in my mind from that afternoon so long ago at the movie theater. Mara, this is Drew and Ashton. They’re Partials, too, and guess what—they know how to get into Nocturna!

So many things had happened as a consequence of our stupid decision to go with two strangers into a realm we’d been warned about, but now that memory didn’t bring only pain. A part of me would never get over losing my cousin, but another memory flashed in my mind, showing the good that had come out of such tragedy.

Large hands smoothed the hair back from my face, their gentleness a welcome balm after the brutal force Drew had used when he’d bound me and thrown me over his horse. I tried to squelch my sobs, vaguely embarrassed that I’d been smearing tears and a runny nose all over the chest of my unknown savior. But he’d taken me in his arms without hesitation when I’d collapsed after the shock of watching Gloria being yanked through that barrier, and he whispered that he wouldn’t let anyone hurt me . . . and I believed him. Without even seeing his face, some part of me knew that he meant every word, and with that knowledge came a sense of peace that I shouldn’t have felt under these horrible circumstances.

Then he let me go, standing and awing me with his height as I stared up at him. A scraping sound preceded the sudden flare of a match, making me gasp as I got my first real look at him. He was staggeringly beautiful, with hair the same reddish gold of the flame, a strong jaw, wide mouth, and eyes the most incredible shade of blue. It took me a second before I could even register that he’d spoken.

“Do not fear. My name is Rafael, and I am ruler here. . . .”

No wonder I’d thought he looked like an angel that night. I’d been close to right; Rafael was the son of an angel, albeit a fallen one. I’d dreamed of him for the next several years, stricken whenever I’d heard my aunt and uncle report that his name had been linked with Purebloods. The night after I turned twenty—the end of the embargo Rafael had sternly outlined when he’d taken me back to the barrier—I’d returned to Nocturna, expecting my adolescent longings to vanish under the reality of seeing him again.

Instead, they’d grown stronger, until even the suspicions I’d had hadn’t totally been able to harden my heart against him. Now that I knew what he’d been hiding—why he was so often close by when Purebloods were captured, and that both our bloodlines marked us for each other—I was filled with joy and determination.

Only a few things stood in the way of Rafael and me starting our lives together, and I was going to tear those things down.

Hoofbeats thudded in the distance, growing closer. After a few tense moments, I smiled. Someone was headed right this way. I cocked my gun and waited, straining my eyes for the first hint of the rider.

That hint came in the shock of white running through the crown of the rider’s hair. I smiled wider as I sighted down the barrel, taking my time, careful to compensate with my aim for the rolling gait of his horse so I wouldn’t accidentally shoot the young girl Jack had in front of him. All the training and target practice I’d done over the years boiled down to the next few seconds. No way would I miss. No way.

And then I pulled the trigger. Not once, but three times, sending out a trio of staccato coughs that didn’t even startle the horse. Jack slumped in his saddle, moaning. The girl grabbed him and the reins at the same time, steering the horse toward my position with a quietly authoritative “Yah!”

Atta girl, Lena. You are SO much more mature than I was at your age!

I rose up from my shallow ditch, waving so she could see me and ripping off pieces of duct tape from one of the two rolls I’d stuck into my pants. In the seconds it took for my sister to make it over, Jack tried to go for his gun, but she yanked it from his belt and threw it near my feet. Then I had the duct tape slapped over Jack’s mouth before he could even gasp in shock at seeing me.

“Best patrolman in the realm, aren’t you, Jack?” I purred nastily at him. “I knew you’d be the first to make a young teen feel welcome here. You were so kind to me and Gloria that night when we were kids, and you were the first to welcome me so many other times when I came back. . . .”

Jack’s eyes bugged even as he made furious muffled sounds behind the gag. I ignored him, yanking him from his horse and handing off another roll of duct tape to Lena, who began to wind it around his wrists.

“I think you punctured a lung,” she said, giving one of the bleeding holes in Jack’s torso a critical look. Her coolness surprised me. I’d been worried about including her in my trap to take Jack down, concerned that Lena wouldn’t be able to handle being so close to Jack when I shot him, but she insisted on being involved. She did make the perfect bait for Jack, and contrary to my prior apprehension, she seemed to be downright blasé about his wounds now.

At my gape, Lena shrugged. “What? I’ve studied anatomy already. Besides, dissecting a dead pig last year was much grosser than this, let me tell you!”

“Little sis, sometimes you scare me,” I muttered, securing Jack’s feet. Then, once he was bound just like he’d bound me, I hefted him sideways over the horse, enjoying the pained “Oomph!” he made against his gag. Three bullets wouldn’t kill a Pureblood, but they would hurt like hell, and Jack had so had that coming. That, and a whole lot more.

“Okay, we’re going to double back very quietly to the barrier and then you go straight back through to our realm like we agreed,” I said, glad her part in this was over.

Lena shook her head. “There are too many other riders around the barrier. We passed two on our way here, and I heard more aside from them. You’ll have to take me with you.”

I chewed my lip. The plan had been for her to lure Jack into picking her up so he could bring her this way, where I’d shoot him. That had succeeded, but then Lena was supposed to go right back through the barrier afterward so she’d be safe—and wouldn’t see what else I had in store for Jack. But if any of those other guards caught her with me and a trussed-up, shot patrolman, who knew what might happen? They might shoot first and ask Lena’s age later. I also couldn’t send my little sister off alone to walk back to the barrier. Not when there were still Purebloods roaming around.

“You know you don’t have a choice,” Lena pointed out logically. “So quit wasting time gnawing on your lip and let’s get going.”

My father and stepmother were going to kick my ass for this, but . . .

“All right,” I whispered. “Get up there and make sure he doesn’t fall off. I’ll walk so I can keep my hands free.”

After all, I drew the line at having Lena shoot someone, if it could be avoided. Yes, she’d had a gun concealed in her jacket just in case Jack tried anything before I had him in my sights, but even though Lena knew how to shoot, I hoped she wouldn’t need to.

Lena kept one hand on Jack and the other on the reins as she directed the horse to follow me. I didn’t need to stay close to the light from the nearby path as I made my way toward Jack’s cabin. I’d taken this route dozens of times before, lulled into a false sense of security by the guard who had seemed so friendly and compassionate. Lies, lies, lies. If not for Rafael forbidding me to return while I was a teen—an order that, coupled with what had happened to Gloria, had held more weight than all the urgings my father had previously given me—I might have ended up as Jack’s lunch one day.

I glanced back at my sister, perched on Jack’s horse, her eyes wide as she took in Nocturna for the first time. Who knew if Jack had even intended to take her into town like she’d asked him to? For all I knew, he’d been heading to his cabin with Lena, intending to get in a little snack before he went back out patrolling.

Well, that snack turned out to bite back, didn’t it?

I led us around the back of the cabin, tying Jack’s horse out of sight by his shed instead of in its usual stall, where someone might see it. Then, with Lena’s help, I dragged Jack inside his cabin, not being particularly gentle about it. Once inside, I lit only one candle, then sat him up in his favorite rocking chair, winding more duct tape around him until he looked like a bug caught in a spider’s web.

“Lena, hand me that crossbow on the wall,” I directed, smiling at Jack as I looked around. “All these nice weapons you have. I always liked how you decorated the walls with them. Now they come in awfully handy, don’t they?”

Jack’s blue eyes burned with hatred at me. I accepted the crossbow from Lena and jerked my head toward the back of the cabin.

“Go in the bedroom.”

“But I don’t want to!” Lena burst out.

I rolled my eyes. It was debatable whether it was the rebellious teenager or the one-eighth demon behind her protesting, but it didn’t matter.

“Go. Or I’ll tell Dad about you skipping school last week.”

“Bitch,” she muttered, but then went into the bedroom as directed.

I pulled out a small pocketknife as I approached Jack, making a small slit lengthwise in his gag. Jack sucked in a deep breath, but I dug the tip of that blade against his crotch before he released it.

“Scream and I cut your balls off. Understand?”

Jack let out that breath in a furious, but quiet, puff. “How’d you get away from Ashton and get back here?” he growled, the words somewhat garbled from the remaining tape.

I smiled. “Call me lucky, but that’s not what we’re going to talk about. You’re going to tell me who the other Purebloods are here, and you’re going to do it right now.”

His mouth twisted in a gruesome parody of a grin. “Or what? You’ll kill me? We both know you’re gonna do that anyway. Or you’ll have someone else do it, if you don’t have the guts. You’ve got nothing to threaten me with, Mara, and even if you do cut off my balls for not talking, dead men don’t need balls anyway.”

I set the crossbow down to clap my hands. “Bravo! You’re a brave man, even for a filthy Pureblood. So brave that I guessed threatening you with death or dismemberment wouldn’t be enough to make you tell me what I want to know. But, see, I met a new friend while I was in the other realm, and I bet she can encourage you to talk.”

Then I rose and opened the cabin door. “Oh, Rachael . . .” I called out.

A rushing sound from the sky preceded my future mother-in-law’s approach. She landed with an abrupt, predatory grace, those obsidian wings folding to allow her to pass through the doorway as she strode inside. Even though I’d expected her, the sight of the gorgeous Fallen still made me tighten my hand on my knife. Without her wings, Rachael might have looked like a normal, exquisite blond, but with those black wings trailing behind her and the aura of menace she exuded, Rafael’s mother was more frightening than beautiful.

Jack must have agreed, because I had to slap my hand over his mouth to stifle his instant scream.

“Ah-ah-ah. We talked about screaming,” I reminded him, wagging the knife.

Rachael’s mouth curled as she looked between me and the Pureblood taped to the chair. “You amuse me, little Partial,” she drawled.

Normally I’d have taken offense at the patronizing tone, but considering that amusement in her case was a good thing—it was novelty that had led Rachael to spare Rafael’s life when he was born, after all—I wasn’t going to complain. Hell, I hoped she found me downright hilarious, in fact.

“Jack, meet Rachael,” I said. “She ate your friend Ashton, but you know women. Just not satisfied with one thing if they can have two. See, I promised Rachael that if she took me back here, I’d give her at least one more Pureblood to munch on, so you might want to rethink telling me about who the others are. Or I’ll have no Purebloods to give her except you, and after I saw what happened to Ashton . . . you really, really don’t want that. Trust me.”

Jack stared at Rachael with the same horrified fascination with which I’d once stared at Drew and Ashton. I knew from experience what he was thinking: that he was trapped by a monster who could take far more than his life. Regular death still meant an afterlife, but Fallen fed from a Pureblood’s supernatural essence—the same eternal imprint that would ensure existence after this life—and Rachael would take that, devouring Jack until there was truly nothing left.

Some things were more frightening than death, and oblivion was one of them. But since Jack had sentenced countless Partials to that same fate when he’d fed from them, I felt no pity for him.

Rachael smiled, revealing twin dimples that somehow lost their charm when her wings extended like a black cloud behind her.

“You test my patience, Pureblood,” she said, her voice melodic and chilling at the same time.

Jack began to talk.

CHAPTER TEN

I rode down the main street of Nocturna, not acknowledging the various mutterings from Partials on the sidewalk as I passed by.

“. . . didn’t I hear she was dead?”

“. . . Jack said Rafael killed her . . .”

“. . . sure doesn’t look dead, does she?”

But the lit skulls that marked the front of Bonecrushers were the only thing I focused my attention on. Every stride from the horse brought me closer, while a curious calm replaced my normal impatience. In so many ways, my journey for justice had started here, so it was fitting that it should end here.

I didn’t bother tethering the horse when I reached the corral, instead jumping down and leaving it to wander at will. Its former owner wouldn’t need it anymore, and soon someone else would claim it. Nothing valuable was wasted in Nocturna, and it was a fine horse.

“Heard you were dead, Mara,” a cool voice noted behind me. “You sure stink like death, but I don’t believe in zombies, so I guess Jack was full of shit about Rafael doing you in.”

I turned to face Billy, noting the burly Halfie looked pissed. Not that I blamed him. Jack had told me all about how he’d spread the word that Rafael was a Pureblood. Had even added a nice touch about how he’d watched in horror as the ruler of Nocturna had dragged me through a barrier for munching on later. As Rafael’s friend, Billy had a right to be mad, seeing me stroll around as though I hadn’t been instrumental in smearing Rafael’s name.

“I stink because I went through a sewage system, again, and if you want to help me catch some real Purebloods, I need you to do me a favor.”

Billy tugged on the end of his tattered leather jacket. “This better be good. I’m in no mood for bullshit games.”

I came nearer until we were close enough to kiss, but Billy didn’t flinch. He just stared at me with hard brown eyes.

“Oh, it’s good. I promise.”

Then I whispered what I needed him to do, waiting until I got a nod of confirmation before walking through the double doors into Bonecrushers.

Several heads turned, and mutterings swept through the crowd. Even the singer on stage paused in his rendition of the Smashing Pumpkins’ “Disarm” to stare at me. It seemed like everyone had heard the tale Jack had spread, but then again, such shocking charges against Rafael would travel at the speed of light. I was only relieved that my aunt and uncle hadn’t had the chance to tell their Partial friends about my initial, mistaken belief about Rafael. If I hadn’t used those gateways to cross back over right when I had, I would’ve been too late to stop the flow of information on that side.

I jumped onto the top of the nearest table, my new vantage point making it easy to see that the doors to Bonecrushers were now closed. Then, just in case anyone wasn’t paying attention, I fired two rounds into the ceiling.

“People, we have Purebloods hiding in Nocturna,” I called out loudly.

Various ominous rumblings sounded at that statement, punctuated by a few calls of “Rafael” and “Kill the fucking Pureblood!”

“I know what Jack told you about Rafael, but it’s not true,” I went on, still in that same ringing voice. “Rafael is not a Pureblood. Jack lied, and the reason he did is because he’s a Pureblood himself.”

An eruption of shouts followed this statement. I waited for the initial roar to die down before speaking again.

“In fact, there’s more—”

“Don’t believe her!” a voice screeched out. Heads swung toward the singer, who pointed his guitar at me. “She’s lying to cover for Rafael, so she must be a Pureblood like him!” he continued emphatically. “Jack’s been a trusted guard here for over a hundred years, but she just strolled in the past decade. You’re going to believe her over him? She also just happened to survive a Pureblood attack, when everyone knows no one survives those!”

I was once again the center of attention—this time, with a wave of animosity from the crowd that was palpable. Bonecrushers catered to the toughest, wildest Partials in Nocturna. If this crowd charged me, I’d be toast, even with my guns.

“Yes, I’m new here,” I called out, not showing the slightest sign of fear to incite them. “Yes, Jack’s been here for over a century, and yes, I survived a Pureblood attack when almost no one lives through those. In fact, I survived two of them. What are the odds of that, right? But let me prove who the real Purebloods are—”

The hole in the roof over the fire pit suddenly exploded with movement. Black wings fanned smoke and embers as Rachael burst through, dropping Jack’s bound form onto the top of the crowd. He bobbled for a second on various heads and shoulders before thudding to the ground when people scrambled to get out of the Fallen’s way as she landed beside him. A surge of patrons went for the doors, shouts ringing out when they found them blocked. Thank you, Billy, I said silently. I knew the Halfie could find a way to barricade them in time.

“Stop!” I yelled. “She’s with me!”

It might have been sheer amazement that slowed the mad scramble for the door, although a few people still tried to claw their way out. I only had seconds to make my point before chaos took over, so I hurried to continue.

“We all know Fallen feed off Purebloods. Purebloods, not Partials. If Jack isn’t a Pureblood, then that Fallen can’t steal the essence out of him.”

“Finally,” Rachael muttered before snatching Jack up. She ripped the duct tape off his mouth, but Jack didn’t even get the chance to scream before her lips sealed over his.

“Someone stop her!” the singer shouted.

No one moved toward Rachael. She had an empty circle around her that allowed for easier viewing as Jack thrashed in her arms, his eyes bulging in horror as she continued her deep, lethal kiss. After only a few seconds, he began to shudder, and then he went abruptly limp even as lights danced in an intricate pattern across Rachael’s lovely skin. She dropped Jack’s lifeless body to the floor as those lights on her skin ebbed, and then wiped her mouth almost daintily on a wing.

This was the second time I’d seen this in less than a day, so I wasn’t shocked like most of the other onlookers. I spoke up in the sudden stunned quiet.

“Jack kidnapped me and handed me over to a Pureblood, who pulled me through to the next realm. Then Jack made up that story about Rafael to cover what he’d done and to get rid of Rafael. But when I was in the next realm, this Fallen came across the Pureblood and ate him. She brought me back here because I promised to give her another Pureblood as payment. Earlier, Jack told me who the other Purebloods were. They’re in this bar—”

A flash of metal caught my vision. I’d kept a wary eye on him and the other person I knew was a Pureblood, so I had time to lunge before the gunshot rang out, firing back even as white-hot pain blasted through me. My quick reaction meant the shot tore through my upper arm instead of my heart, so the impact spun me around, but I didn’t collapse. Instead, I dropped to one knee and fired again, striking the shooter a second time. He tried to raise his gun at me again, but a large form barreled into him, knocking it away.

“Hold him,” Rafael’s stern voice commanded amidst the sudden pile of people jumping in to restrain Lance, the singer who’d shot me.

“She’s lying! The bitch is lying!” Lance screamed.

“As you can guess,” I rasped, raising my voice, “Lance is one of the two Purebloods here. Hank, our friendly neighborhood bartender, is the other.”

Rafael reached me right as several people hauled Hank over the wooden countertop. Rafael pulled me into his arms, shielding me from any other potential gunshots. Over the wide shoulders of my mate, I saw Hank disappear into the crowd of furious Partials. While Lance still shrieked and cursed me, Hank was oddly silent. He must have realized his fate had been sealed as soon as Rachael had dropped through that smoke hole.

Speaking of Rachael, she still stood in the center by the fire pit, watching the melee around her with a distinct little smirk.

“You Partials are more entertaining than I remembered,” I heard her remark over Lance’s screams and the rough cheers at whatever was being done to him and Hank. Then she caught my eye, nodded once, and flew back out the way she’d come in.

“Mara, your arm,” Rafael muttered, setting me back to rip the sleeve off his jacket and tie it around me.

“It’s just a flesh wound,” I replied, wincing at the pressure from the makeshift bandage. “And you weren’t supposed to come here until I convinced everyone that you’re not a Pureblood.”

He grunted. “I wasn’t about to stay in the other realm wondering if my mother would keep her word. I watched over you from the skies while you captured Jack. Then I stayed out of sight in the fields when you came in here, but once I heard the gunshots, I had to get to you.”

I couldn’t criticize. If it had been me outside hearing the gunshots, I wouldn’t have stayed away, either, danger or no danger. Luckily for us, by the time the shots had rung out, the people inside had seen enough to realize Jack had been lying.

And luckily for us, Rafael had put on his shirt and coat while waiting in the fields, so the markings on his back were concealed from any curious eyes.

His large hands stroked my face before he kissed me. The feel of his mouth, combined with the joy of wrapping my arms around him, even though one throbbed painfully, made the rough surroundings fade away. By the time he lifted his head, I didn’t even notice the shouts around us as the Partials administered their own form of justice to the two Purebloods.

“Let’s leave,” Rafael murmured. “I have a doctor at my castle who can treat your arm.”

“It can wait a little longer. We need to get my sister back home. She’s still at Jack’s cabin, pouting because I wouldn’t let her come with me.”

Rafael shook his head with a snort. “Another stubborn Partial, eh?”

“It runs in the family,” I whispered before kissing him again. Lena would be thrilled when I told her she could come here to visit me—and my father would be glad when I told him I’d only let her travel through the gateway in Rafael’s castle, so she would avoid the town until she was older.

“Let’s go, my mate,” I said once we broke the kiss.

His smile took away even the pain in my arm. “Yes. First back to your world, and then back to our home.”

I grinned at him. “Our home, huh? I’m glad you see it that way, because I intend to make a few changes.”

A brow rose. “Changes?”

“We’ll start with the front hall,” I said, letting him lead me out of Bonecrushers. “Really, Rafael, ‘medieval chic’ is so last century. . . .”

Continue reading for an exclusive excerpt from

CAGED WARRIOR

by Lindsey Piper

Copyright © 2013 by Carrie Lofty

The first installment in a fierce and sensual new paranormal romance series featuring a proud race on the brink of extinction

CAGED WARRIOR

The Dragon Kings #1

Lindsey Piper

Malnefoley:

No time for formality, cousin. Forgive me.

My darling Caleb is dead. Jack and I have been imprisoned. Dr. Aster is obsessed with learning how Jack was born naturally. Endless experiments and torture. He removed one of my ovaries. My knuckles have yet to heal. He’ll cut off my hands if I fight back again, but I’m tempted every time my little boy screams.

Those who’ve been ruined are sent to the Cages. Some never return. Reed, of our own Clan Tigony, will try to escape before that fate. I hold little hope. He’s been driven insane. One leg taken. No tongue.

Please help us! You lead the Council. I know we’ve had our differences, but to keep punishing me will destroy the Dragon Kings. Aster guards the secret to our survival, but at this price?

Hurry, Mal.

In love and Faith of the Dragon,

Nynn

CHAPTER ONE

She wasn’t in the lab. That’s all she knew. The smells were different. Fewer sterilizing cleansers and less recycled air. More body odor. Piss and sweat. Dirt. Wet rocks.

Audrey opened her eyes and blinked. She pushed up onto her hands and knees. Pain banged at her temples—the ache of still-healing blows to the skull and her own frantic pulse. Lifting her head was an effort, like swimming through wet cement.

Her fuzzy vision sharpened as she got used to the dim lighting. Just a pair of bare incandescent bulbs. A humid mist hung heavy in the cavelike room. Even when her eyes worked together, focusing, that mist shrouded details. She couldn’t tell where the algae-covered walls began and ended.

The bars to her four-by-four cage were a prison. Solid iron. She lifted swollen hands and grasped the cold metal. Frustration ate at her insides. Rattling the cage bars, she shrieked, bellowed with all her might.

“Where is my son?”

At least in the lab, she and Jack had shared a cell. No bars there. Only walls painted black. Just as disorienting. But that confinement had almost felt safe. Almost. She’d held her boy, thankful the darkness concealed the worst of their wounds from one another.

Now all she had was iron bars, algae, and a black pit where her heart had been.

“Where is he? Aster! You son of a bitch!”

Footsteps.

The hair lifted on the backs of her forearms. As her heartbeat jacked up, she noticed her dirty body. Her vulnerability. She wore a paper hospital gown—no underwear, no shoes. Had she been dragged straight from the lab? The last thing she remembered was being strapped to an operating table. A mask had pumped anesthetic into her mouth and nose. Maybe that explained her grogginess. From surgery to a Dragon-damned cave.

And now she wore a damping collar. But why? Her powers had never manifested. Giving birth to the first natural-born Dragon King in a generation was the only truly remarkable thing she’d ever done.

She forced the distracting details away. Look for a way out. A way to survive. The iron bars were a lost cause, but the floor was pitted concrete.

With a crack in the corner.

Audrey picked and peeled where moisture had worn away a small crevice. Her fingertips bled. Aching knuckles stretched shadow puppets along the wall. She wiped a sudden sweat from her forehead. Her toes gripped for balance as she scraped harder, faster. Only chanting her son’s name under her breath kept her going.

The steps echoed more loudly. Heavy. Determined. Certainly male. His footfalls hit too heavily for a lean man. A bruiser, then. One of the Aster cartel’s bodyguards. She didn’t stand a chance, but she kept clawing. Her breath became hot steam in her lungs.

A piece of concrete about the size of her fist gave way. She hefted it to test the weight. One pointed end had promise. If she could strike just the right spot on the man’s temple . . .

She edged away from the bars until her spine pinched against the hard rock wall. After twisting her long hair, she shoved it down the back of the hospital gown. She balanced on the balls of her feet, ready to spring.

As a member of the Honorable Giva’s immediate family, she’d been instructed in martial arts training from as early as she could remember. She’d never wielded the powers of her kind, and she was seriously out of practice, but she was not helpless. The chunk of concrete rested in her palm. It was the difference between dying—and dying while fighting.

A flashlight’s beam penetrated the recess of the cave. Audrey narrowed her eyes to slits. She watched through her lashes. The man had so many advantages. That realization should’ve cowed her. Should’ve turned her backbone to mud and left her weeping. But after having been a victim for more than a year—drugged, bound, helpless—she felt mighty by comparison. No manacles. No hallucinogens. Just a rock in her hand and a blaze of pure rage.

The man stepped into clear view.

Easily more than six feet, he was built for breaking bones and ripping off limbs. Brawn. Solid muscle. Powerful biceps and shadow-black hair. Plate metal covered his heart and vital organs, leaving his arms free. Calf-high boots were made of toughened leather. Bare, muscular thighs flexed with the slightest movement. But he didn’t seem the kind of man to make slight movements. Everything about him was overwhelming.

His jaw was fixed in an expression she’d learned to recognize: You will find no mercy here.

Audrey gave her flight instinct a hard shove, then pushed as far into the shadows as she could. Futile, really, when he aimed the beam directly at her face. She squinted and kept her right hand out of sight as the cage unlocked.

“Disgusting,” he muttered.

“And you’re a traitor,” she spat back. In the language of the Dragon Kings. A language she hadn’t used for nearly a decade.

Frankly, since meeting Caleb, she hadn’t given much thought to the old ways. Her happiness as a human wife had been too easy, too good. Too good to last. But long ago, the ways of the Dragon Kings had been her entire life. The ritual and the covert power.

No matter her ostracism from her clan.

More rage. Years of it came rushing back. The coiled ferocity in her legs exploded. She leapt forward. The cage door swung open on hinges that squealed a rusted protest.

But not even the momentum of her leap shifted the man from his kneeling stance. He only grunted. Audrey’s quick instincts brought that chunk of concrete up, up, in a violent arc. Her aim was true. The jagged edge of her weapon struck somewhere on the side of his face. Another grunt.

Then Audrey was thrown across the room.

Her shoulder hit the ground, followed by her head. A cry ripped from her throat. She slid three feet. Agony stabbed down to her marrow, as if pain had always been a part of her body.

He’d simply . . . hurled her. Just like that.

The big man needed only two strides to cross to where Audrey sprawled. He stripped the chunk of concrete from her hand and tossed it down the tunnel.

“Can you hear me, lab filth?”

The old language rattled in her brain. Words passed down from the blessed Dragon. Nothing quite worked. Her lungs wouldn’t take in air. Something ground painfully in her hip socket. She nodded out of pure reflex.

“If you ever attempt to strike me again, I will snap your spine in two. Think you could recover from that? Our kind can endure a great deal—much more than humans. But we’re not immortal.”

“Where is my son?” Only a rasp now.

“He’s better off dead. Now get up.”

He yanked her under both arms and thrust her against a wall. Shots of fire spiked out from her joints. She gasped as panic set in. She wanted to fight. Wanted to. But just as when Dr. Aster drugged her, or when her brain short-circuited because of his torture, she could not. That didn’t stop her from snarling and spitting.

If he spoke the language of the Dragon Kings, he belonged to one of the sacred Five Clans. But to actually work for that madman? He was the filth. Bile surged into her mouth.

“You’ve still got some spirit.” His muscles were tense, holding her immobile, while his breathing remained calm. “I can see why Old Man Aster has plans for you. We’re going to have quite the time.”

The flashlight had rolled across the ground until it illuminated her captor’s face. Blood streamed down from where she’d gouged a ragged hole in his cheek. He was smooth-shaven, and his black hair was shorn close to his head. Eyes the color of teak were fathomless, unreadable. Dark lashes cast shadows along his sharp cheekbones. A scar on his upper lip told stories of past battles. A damping collar encircled his thick, muscular throat.

A tattoo of a serpent wrapped around the back of his head. The tongue hissed toward one temple and the tail flicked toward the other. The Aster family icon.

Realization settled like ice in her belly. He was far deadlier than a brute from the laboratory.

Part boogeyman, part myth—he was a Cage warrior.

“The Aster cartel owns you now, lab filth. But they’re done with experiments.” His scarred lip curled into a snarling smile. “You’re here to fight in the Cages.”

•   •   •

Leto had not expected so much resistance from the woman. The prospect heated his blood. For too long he’d only found satisfaction in preparing for the annual Grievance. The ultimate prize, the most dedicated warriors.

Warriors like Leto.

Performing against his comrades in monthly Cage matches was essential to keep his skills sharp. But training humans to die honorably in those matches was drudgery. They rarely possessed the true courage to stand up to him in combat. Dragon King volunteers—called neophytes until they won their first fight—were more interesting. Unpredictable. Some were as weak and sniveling as humans. Others went on to greatness. Leto had trained many such victors.

His cheek was bleeding profusely. This nasty castoff from Dr. Aster’s lab had surprising spark.

“You’re insane,” she snarled. “I’m not going in there.”

“Have you ever seen a Cage fight?”

She shuddered. “Of course not! They’re for barbarians.”

With a swift movement that had nothing to do with his powers, Leto spun her. “Now is the time you listen. If you think I’m a barbarian, then you know my threats aren’t idle. Your suffering won’t weigh on my conscience.”

“Because you have none.” The words were muffled with her cheek pressed against the damp cave wall.

Leto loosened his grip. Any harder pull would dislocate her shoulder. The goal was not to impair his charges but to ready them. Instead, he added another incentive for her to obey. With his free hand he reached down and grasped between her legs.

“No conscience,” he repeated with a cruel smile. “And I will have my way.”

She stiffened. She stilled. But Leto realized his heart was beating far too fast. Need had gathered in him for three weeks. Cage warriors were permitted female flesh only after a victory—unless they chose to violate their charges, as he threatened. Some mentors indulged too often, but their neophytes became submissive, not resilient and strong. Leto had never needed to use such crude methods. He had other means, including stores of patience.

And he never lost. The regular reward of satisfying his sexual needs was not something every Cage warrior could claim.

She bucked against his hold. “If you think worse wasn’t done to me in the Asters’ lab, then you have no idea what goes on there.”

“Doesn’t matter to me.” He gave her pussy a last, hard squeeze. At least this time she flinched and tried to pull away. Any reaction could be twisted to his advantage. “Maybe you’ll enjoy it. Pleasure can be another incentive.”

She threw her head backward. Her skull smacked the bridge of his nose. Pain rocketed through his brain. The woman scrambled from his arms and took off running. Leto shook his head. Part of him was dazed that she’d got the jump on him. Mostly he was amused. Where did she think she could go?

From down the corridor came a female shriek. Pure frustration. She was certainly loud enough to use the sonic assaults that accompanied the berserker rages of Clan Pendray. They annoyed the fuck out of him. Shaking off a week-long migraine was the price of victory over those Dragon-damned Reapers.

He took a strip of linen from beneath his chest armor and wiped his face. The gouge in his cheek was deep, nearly a puncture. The woman continued her tirade. High-pitched bellows echoed up the corridor.

“She-devil bitch,” he muttered to himself.

Still, he was surprisingly eager to get started.

Leto set his shoulders and lifted his chin. The Aster family ran the most powerful human crime cartel in the world. His victories over their cartel rivals—the Townsends of England and the Kaneshiros of Hong Kong—had earned him many privileges. First among them was the right for his sister, Yeta, and her husband, Dallnis, to conceive a little girl. Soon, with the Dragon’s blessing, his efforts would earn protection and care for their comatose younger sister, Pell.

He would win the Grievance, year after year. To keep his family safe. To ensure Clan Garnis would live on.

Confidence gave him extra swagger as he trod down the sloping corridor to retrieve his screaming neophyte. She stood with her back against the gate. Wrought iron. Floor-to-ceiling. And Leto had no key. He was let in and out by the Asters’ human guards. Cattle prods, tasers, and napalm bullets kept even the most powerful Dragon King in check. The collars made it so.

Leto had never fought back. Why would he? This had always been his place of glory and purpose, where his father had fought. And where his father had died.

Decapitated by a Dragon blade.

“Stay away from me!”

“I won’t.” His words were as assured as he felt.

She tried to dart sideways. Though slender, she was wily and surprisingly strong. But she would never be his match. He caught her around the middle. Momentum threw her onto his forearm. Her sternum crushed against his bones. Again he threw her to the ground. He pinned her with his boot heel on her collar, right over her larynx.

“You’ll only hurt yourself. Save this fire. You’ll need it for the Cages.”

She cradled her elbow and glared up with pale, pale eyes—maybe blue.

“I’m to train you for your first bout in three weeks,” he continued. “Normally we’d have more time. But Old Man Aster wants you ready by then. He’ll be hosting many important people.”

He removed his boot and grabbed a fistful of hair—a honeyed brown shade that trailed down her back. He’d need to fix that. His actions were proof of how dangerous long hair could be in battle.

“Let go of me!”

“No.” He dragged her back to the main body of the training room. He shoved her into a wide crack that had been carved by a steady trickle of water. “Wash yourself. I won’t work with garbage.”

She hissed as cold water drenched her face, sluiced down her back. The thin paper hospital gown clung to her body. Soon it would be as useless as wet tissue. He had proper armor for her to change into. Eventually. First she needed to learn her place.

“Soap?”

Leto crossed his arms. “What was that?”

She pinched her lips into a tight white line. Honey-colored hair darkened beneath the water’s trickle. A shiver began around her middle and shook out in both directions. Arms and legs trembled. She closed into a protective ball.

If the woman didn’t ask, Leto would have a despicable chore ahead of him. On a certain level he would enjoy breaking her. Yet he craved a real opponent. She had that potential, if she proved smart enough to know when to back down.

“May I have some soap?” The effort of asking contorted her features with fury.

“Perhaps.”

Slowly, he knelt before her. He’d trained enough for the Cages to know when the appearance of gentleness held greater power than aggression. She backed deeper into the crack, but her fear was nowhere to be seen. Those pale, almost silver eyes were visible through the water dribbling down her face. Already she was cleaner. He could see more of her features. Stubborn. Every feature stubborn.

“I will not give much advice beyond techniques for fighting. But listen to me now: save your hostility. I am not your enemy.”

“Bullshit.”

She whipped wet hair back from her heart-shaped face. A pointed chin was haughty, but her lips were delicate. Thin. Tremulous. As with every Dragon King, her skin was naturally tan. Hers was overlaid with a shimmering luster, like gold beneath a blazing light. Wide cheekbones were streaked with freckles, not the dirt he’d assumed. The water darkened her lashes and framed those eerie, almost translucent eyes. Her gaze was canny. She assessed every detail, even through her fury.

Intelligence in a trainee was a twin-edged sword.

“Become a half-dead cripple for all I care,” Leto said with a shrug. “You know it takes a great deal to kill a Dragon King. But the crowd loves when combatants bleed and scream. No one mourns.”

“My son would mourn me,” she whispered.

“He already does. Dr. Aster will have told him you’re dead.”

“I was promised my son. One year more.”

One year.

He almost pitied the woman’s naiveté. She’d be lucky to stand or talk or chew after her first match. Yes, she would heal, as all Dragon Kings did, but the process was imperfect. Amputated limbs never grew back. Minds cracked into mad pieces. Scars remained. His split lip and lashed back were a testament to that.

He masked his pessimism and long-ago pains. This was his responsibility. He had yet to fail the Old Man. He wouldn’t let this woman destroy the respect Leto had spent years acquiring.

“Learn to fight,” he said. “Or you’ll suffer as others have.”

She shuddered. The hospital gown clung to her. She tucked her legs beneath her and crossed trembling arms across her breasts. But the water let her keep few secrets. “And you’re here to teach me?”

“You would’ve saved yourself a lot of abuse had you asked that question twenty minutes ago.”

“Bathatéi.” The worst curse word in the language of the Dragon Kings.

Leto only laughed. “Your name. Now.”

She lashed out with a tight fist. He caught it easily, then the next one. The only weapon she had left—one she might not have realized—was the surprise of her breasts. The soaked paper gown outlined their lithe, luscious shape. Leto forced his gaze back to her face.

“Your name,” he said with growing menace. “Unless you enjoy being called lab filth.”

“My name in exchange for soap.”

He grinned. This was going to be fun.

“Agreed. Now. Tell me.”

A swallow disappeared beneath the edge of her collar. She lifted her chin, all defiance. “My name is Audrey MacLaren.”

CHAPTER TWO

“Your real name.”

Dragon be, his calmness was irritating. He let go of her fists.

Audrey had lost most feeling in her fingers and toes. The hospital gown had disintegrated into little balls of paper along her shoulder.

“It is. I’m Audrey MacLaren.”

“Maybe out there with the humans. I won’t speak that dirt down here.”

“Sure, because this place is so pristine.”

“My rules.”

“You sound like my son. Petulant. Expecting to get your way.”

He stared down at her with abject condescension. “And I suppose he got his way in Aster’s lab?”

“You piece of shit!”

“Call me what you like. That won’t change your situation. Now. Your Dragon-born name.”

Everything about his raw brawn and arrogant posture said that fighting back would be a useless waste of energy. She was too numb, too weak with hunger, too shattered by pain to resist with more than words.

But she did have words. “I was born Nynn of Clan Tigony.”

The man flinched. Finally. She’d dented his arrogant exterior.

“A Tigony? In the Cages?”

“You heard me.” Hers was a grin of victory. “Malnefoley, the Honorable Giva, is my cousin.”

Malnefoley was the leader of the ten-person Council and keeper of the Dragon Kings’ floundering ancient traditions. Only the last she’d heard, her cousin was deep in hiding after an assassination attempt. Even if she could escape, she might never find him. Or her son.

And she would never hold Caleb again.

“Your origins don’t matter down here.” The man recovered as quickly from mental surprise as he did from physical attacks. “Here, we only fight for the Asters.”

She couldn’t read his magnetic brown eyes, but she compensated with other clues. His shoulders were not quite so relaxed. Tension had replaced the grace of his assured movements. The deep lines around his mouth tightened. The scar on his upper lip stood out an eerie white against the tan skin of all Dragon Kings.

Just what power did he possess? If she could learn his clan, she would have a better idea. Each had particular abilities, passed down through dwindling generations. The Tigony had not inspired myths of Zeus’s lightning bolt by accident. They harnessed and concentrated kinetic energy—which wound up looking very much like an electrical storm.

But . . . her tormentor could be crossbred.

Though Audrey had been raised among the Tigony, few had let her forget her origins. Her unknown father was from Clan Pendray, the vicious berserkers that had inspired Norse and Celtic myths. Only Mal had ever forgiven her mother. Audrey’s place among his inner circle had been granted at his discretion alone.

Crossbred children could possess extraordinary—and dangerous—gifts in unique combinations. Or they could possess nothing at all. Like Audrey. She’d never been immune to the whispers, the rumors.

Standing, he glared down at her. “If you move from this spot, I’ll leave you for the night. Cold. Wet. No soap, clothes, or food.”

Clothes and food. Her stomach contracted. “Any other threats?”

He smirked. “You’ll be confined to your cage instead of being allowed free rein of the training room.”

“This is a training room?”

“One of them. Now stay here.”

His voice alone was almost powerful enough to force obedience. It was low and throaty, as if wounds could speak. The collar may as well have fused with his larynx. She shivered for reasons that had nothing to do with the chilly water.

Not waiting for Audrey to comply, he strode back down the corridor. His swagger was as maddening as it was fascinating. Ridged, well-built thighs powered his body with surprising grace. His bare back was a lacework of scars. Straps crisscrossed below his shoulder blades to hold his chest plate in place.

Sinew. Brawn.

Another shiver.

Audrey scrubbed the paper hospital gown from her skin. Once naked, she turned away from the dungeon room. Dragon be, the brute was right. She was filthy. Dirt and dead skin sloughed off beneath her palms and fingernails. Although she was frozen through to her bones, she relished the feeling of starting over.

If he intended to train her, he could be useful—not for fighting in the Cages, but for escaping. She would stay strong and learn what she could. No one would keep her from Jack.

She only prayed to the Dragon that something of her little boy remained when she reached him.

The man returned. A little chunk of soap landed by her hip. She snatched it up. A scant lather was enough to finish washing her body. Only once did she glance behind her, when she was about to wash between her legs. He squatted on the balls of his feet, with his back against the opposite wall. Watching her. A folded pile of fresh clothes waited by his boots.

Goose bumps shivered up the wet skin of her back. He had grabbed her between the legs. The lonayíp bastard.

The human laboratory guards had used her that way. But she’d been drugged and bound, unable to resist. Some deeper instinct told her this man would want her to fight back.

Turning away, she lathered her grimy hair. A year ago, she’d lived in a sunny Manhattan condo overlooking a small park. The bathroom she’d shared with Caleb had been filled with sexy indulgences. Loofahs. Bath salts. Specialty hair products and expensive makeup. Moisturizers of all scents and purposes—for dry lips, barely-there crow’s-feet, cracked heels, and bikini burn. It seemed so ridiculous now. Those were the concerns of an entirely different woman.

The woman she’d become appreciated the little chunk of soap. At least it wasn’t some astringent hazmat-level disinfectant. Her skin had toughened just to survive, like the rest of her. This soap was something almost . . . pleasant. It rinsed very clean and left her feeling oddly invigorated. Such a small change in the scheme of things. A change she’d desperately needed.

“Come get your clothes.”

Of course. What man would turn down the opportunity to ogle a naked woman? His demand was almost expected. She’d only waited for him to give it that rasping, broken timbre.

Clothes. Then food. Each step was laid out before her like Dorothy on her way to the Emerald City. She nearly smiled at that fractured thought. Jack had been four the first time they’d watched that movie. The flying monkeys terrified him so badly that Caleb had traded out The Wizard of Oz DVD for Cars. Audrey had made popcorn. They’d let him stay up late to finish his favorite movie, but he’d fallen asleep on the couch, sprawled across Caleb’s lap. Her husband, so blond, had stroked their little boy’s wheat-pale hair.

Whatever this barbarian planned to do to her had nothing on that memory. It twisted and burned until she couldn’t breathe. Bodily pain could be disconnected. Like flipping a switch. But messages from her heart sliced through her thoughts and attacked at unexpected moments.

Even when she stood wet and naked in front of a stranger.

Without grace, still shivering, she walked toward where he knelt against the wall. Never had she been so conscious of the surgical marks left behind by Dr. Aster’s experiments. Some scars never healed, not even for a Dragon King.

“Are you going to give me my clothes?”

“They’re not yours,” he said. “You have no possessions.”

She gritted her molars. “May I borrow them?”

The amusement in his eyes made her want to pluck them out. He flicked his wrist, and the garments landed on her wet toes. A tank top, plain women’s briefs, and an industrial-looking set of clothes. “Get dressed.”

“Here?”

He nodded.

Let him look. Dignity had long been replaced by one instinct: survival.

“My little boy is named Jack,” she said softly, just to herself.

She focused on her words rather than the vulnerability that punched her heart against her ribs.

The pants were tough, tanned leather lined with denim and what felt like . . . silk? The shirt was made of the same odd combination. Both fit snugly but with enough room to move freely. Had they taken her measurements while she was unconscious? Dragon be, there existed so many ways to violate a human being.

She wasn’t human. Never had been, no matter how many Pixar films and bags of popcorn and bottles of lotion. That didn’t mean she could hold back the pressure filling her chest like hot sand. Her grief needed to be spoken aloud. Audrey MacLaren had been a high school art teacher, married to a marketing exec. They’d been happy. So content that they’d taken it for granted.

Now, that contentment was nothing but pain.

“Jack Robert MacLaren.” Her voice was stronger now. Echoes touched the back wall of the training room. “He’s almost six now. My husband’s name was Caleb Andrew MacLaren. He was thirty-four when he was murdered trying to defend our son. I would’ve liked the closure of attending his funeral, but I was strapped to a table in Dr. Aster’s lab.”

“I didn’t say you could speak.”

“So stop me.”

The beastly man stood slowly. So damn tall. Audrey was a respectable five foot eight, but he dwarfed her. “Is that a dare?”

“Not unless you want it to be,” she said. “I’m doing what I was told—getting dressed. Why should you care what I talk about? It was just a distraction while you slavered over me.” The clothes were armor, like wearing a fortress. Assurance lined her bones with steel. “Did that turn you on? To watch a defenseless woman shiver in a bit of cave water? If I were to grab between your legs, you servile, brainwashed dog, would you be hard? I hope not. I hope you fondle your limp little prick tonight and cuss a blue streak because you still can’t get it up.”

Massive fists bunched along his thighs. That scarred lip twitched. Eyes narrowed to slits that glittered deep brown. A heavy pulse ticked at his temple, just where his cropped hair and his serpent tattoo stopped short. Branded by the Asters.

He was disgusting.

“I didn’t say you could speak.” No idle sentence now. It was a prelude to violence.

This was the moment when she learned how far she could push her own personal bully. The moment when he might knock her head clean off.

Audrey smoothed wet hair back from her forehead and met his gaze. “You need me. If the Old Man wanted me here, he won’t appreciate seeing me harmed. I bet you can’t risk that, warrior.” She sneered the word. A warrior fights to be free, not to grovel in the dark. “So hit me, throw me back in that cage, or get me some Dragon-damned food.”

•   •   •

During combat, Leto would’ve laid waste to the insulting bitch. Circled behind her. Crushed her ribs before she uttered another infuriating syllable. With the collars temporarily disengaged inside the matrix framework of the Cages, his astonishing speed and reflexes—the hallmark of Clan Garnis—would’ve made that possible.

He lived for those moments of near-freedom when his body was allowed to do what the Dragon had intended.

Far from relishing the challenge as he had only an hour before, he thought back. He couldn’t remember the last time a neophyte had figured out how their relationship worked. Symbiosis. If this woman failed to entertain, Leto would share in the blame. To lose face, no matter the circumstances, left him silently seething.

He checked his thoughts. There was always something to be done when a neophyte got lippy—no matter how clever. No matter how fucking sexy.

Leto shut down that thought even faster. Just as he tried to forget the healed surgical incisions so obvious on her lustrous golden skin. A violation.

“Get in your cage.”

“Go to hell.”

“You can stay out here, but there will be no food tonight. We’ll wait days if we need to.”

Defiance dazzled from her bright eyes.

This time Leto was able to hide his renewed surprise that she knew how to pick her battles. The Tigony made no secret of their disgust for the Cages. They were known as the Tricksters of the Five Clans, more eager to talk and wheedle than fight. Their powers could be formidable—fires that stormed from the heavens. Yet few tapped into that potential. They simply talked too much.

Why did the Old Man believe she was valuable?

“Get in your cage, Nynn of Clan Tigony. Or I’ll throw you in.”

“What happened to letting me have free rein of this . . . cave?”

“That was before you insulted me.”

She shot a disdainful glance toward his crotch. “Hit a little too close to home?”

He pulled until her ear nestled against his mouth. She smelled delicious now. Clean. Fresh. Scrubbed clear of that particular stink lab refugees always carried. A sweet, unnatural decay. He never let his mind journey to Dr. Aster’s lab. Imagination was best left to fighting techniques, but he couldn’t deny what his senses told him.

Whatever happened there was simply wrong.

Leto used his grip to shove her into the four-foot-square iron cage. Because he was angry. And because he hated being unprepared against any opponent. No one of her rank wound up in the Cages. The Tigony were practically royalty and had been since their days as patron gods to the Greeks and Romans.

Combat was saved for the poorest, most desperate Dragon Kings. Or for those like Leto who’d fought since early manhood for the opportunity to perpetuate their bloodlines. Combat could also be used as a means for the three human cartels to execute their human enemies. They made for a good show. Quick. Bloody.

But to train the Honorable Giva’s cousin? The magnitude of Leto’s responsibility was growing by the minute.

He threw the lock and knelt, resting his forearms on his thighs. “Your identity won’t make a difference when we train. What will make a difference is your gift from the Dragon. And I sure as hell know what that is.”

“My gift never manifested!”

“Save your breath.”

He said it flatly, because he’d seen proof of what destruction her powers could render. Dr. Aster’s lab, with its roof obliterated. Her lie was obvious.

He frowned.

Unless . . . Unless she had been subjected to the same procedure as poor young Pell. Leto had survived the disorientation and fear of his first manifestation, but his sister had not. Vigorous powers required the intervention of a telepath. Sometimes the process of installing unconscious restraints went badly. Very badly.

Leto stood and shook off his foreboding. Time to get food. She would respond to food.

He walked away without explanation, unsurprised when her shouts followed him down the corridor. Shrieks, curses, and the rattling of iron bars. He’d been confident in what to expect when first entering her training cell.

Now, he knew what she looked like naked.

He exited at the guards’ discretion and walked placidly between them toward the mess hall. He knew the turns and sloping underground tunnels well enough to walk them with his eyes shut. May as well. Images of Nynn overlaid his vision—images he tried to suppress. Waist and hips designed for a man’s hands. Supple legs to curl around a man’s lower back. Tight nipples waiting for a man’s eager mouth.

She’d got it all wrong. He had tamped down his arousal out of sheer mental discipline. He would not be limp when he bedded down that evening. In his private quarters, he would indulge those erotic images and release the grinding tension she’d ratcheted into his joints.

The mess hall was no more elaborate than Nynn’s training room, only bigger, having been carved out of granite deep within the earth. Dozens of human workers, all male, had gathered for the evening meal. Long wooden tables were flanked on each side by plain benches. Dozens of durable pewter plates held beans, rice, chunks of beef, kernels of corn, and buttered bread. Leto’s stomach rumbled.

The guards accepted their meals from a stumpy man named Kilgore, then sat to eat. Kilgore paid them no attention. “Here for your ration, Leto?”

“Yes, and one for my neophyte.”

“The girl? Caught a glimpse of her when they brought her in from the lab. Is she a looker? Couldn’t tell.”

“Food first. You know that.”

“You can be such a bore.”

Leto stood over him. “Earning the roar of a satisfied crowd is never a bore. Can you say the same for ladling beans?”

“Don’t rub it in,” Kilgore said sourly. His puckered little face didn’t need much incentive to curl in on itself. “Not all of us can be stars in the Asters’ empire.”

The man served up dinner and assembled a second plate with a lid.

While Leto sat in the mess, watching Kilgore distribute food to the remaining workers, he ate with silent relish. Quality fare.

He’d heard rumors of Dragon Kings who fought for the other human cartels, the Townsends and Kaneshiros. Some were fed no better than scraps. Their holding cells were disgusting, riddled with vermin and disease. They fought for prizes that were far from guaranteed. Only Dr. Aster had perfected the process of reproduction among Dragon Kings. No one knew how he’d managed to solve the problem—or why conception was a problem in the first place.

The two other cartels had achieved limited successes. Their warriors bore as many insane, malformed children as ones delivered healthy and vital. But it was a chance. A chance more were willing to take by the day.

Leto faced no such uncertainty. He was a god to the Asters. The best. Praised above all the other men and women who shared this warrior’s life. That Yeta had given birth to a healthy child meant he was respected, not just feared. Anyone who could earn the privilege to conceive was looked upon as immortal. A bloodline passed down.

That feat was becoming increasingly rare. In Yeta’s daughter existed the future of Clan Garnis. Few remained to take up that mantle.

He returned his empty plate to the wide washing sink and turned to Kilgore. “You ready for it?”

The small man stopped in the midst of lifting a scoop of corn. He ignored the thin, sallow-faced worker who waited for his food. Nearly every human in the compound started to look that way—pale, sunken, wasted. Life underground turned them into two-legged moles. Leto hid his disgust.

For millennia, the Dragon Kings had ruled over these people. For good reason. Mere herd animals, humans.

“Go on, then.” Kilgore’s dark, beady eyes were eager. “Her tits. Tell me.”

“Small but shapely.”

“And?”

“Tight buds. Dusky. Best I’ve seen in years.”

Kilgore exhaled slowly. A shudder of pleasure jerked the loose skin along his jowls. “You really are without peer, my friend.”

Leto hid a scowl. He was servant to the humans who rewarded him extremely well. He was the equivalent of a god to the rest. Yet he counted no humans among his friends—as if such a word existed for him. Sharing physical details about incoming neophytes spoke to Kilgore in the language of small minds. The human workers agreed to three-month contracts, with no chance of interaction with women. Their lust for news about female warriors and victims bound for the Cages was insatiable.

Kilgore would embellish those curt descriptions, earn clout for himself, and spread proof of Leto’s superiority. Such men eagerly bet on their favorite champion.

And Leto earned favors. Lots of favors.

Distasteful. But necessary.

He took up the second plate of food Kilgore had prepared. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a woman to break.”

CHAPTER THREE

The bastard.

The lonayíp bastard.

He left the tray of food next to her cage, just out of reach, and resumed his place against the wall.

Audrey’s stomach was a raging beast threatening to gnaw through her skin. It wanted free to scramble through those iron bars. To gorge. Dizzy on the scent of fresh meat and vegetables, she closed her eyes. There was nothing else to do unless she begged.

She had begged for mercy in the labs. Needles, scalpels, saws—they brought out the animal in a girl. When survival hinged on nothing more than a sadist’s caprice, the words had babbled from her lips. When Aster’s men stole Jack from her arms each morning, she’d held his frail, injured body for as long as possible. And she’d pleaded. Every day. She’d turned into some servile little creature.

But here . . .

Here, she had a chance.

The food would be cold soon, but she didn’t care. She was ready to eat the leather of her tunic, when once she’d shared in the grand feasts of the Tigony in their Grecian mountain stronghold. So much ritual. So much wealth. Malnefoley’s affection had secured her a permanent place at his table.

No one else had wanted her there.

Enough of this.

Audrey went through the list again. Her assets. She was clean and clothed. She was the Giva’s cousin. She had endured years of ostracism among her namesake clan, bearing the brunt of her mother’s supposed indiscretions—years that made her stronger. And she was free of Dr. Aster’s lab.

She felt like a person again.

To escape and find Jack, she needed to learn this complex inside out—from its physical layout to every single person inside it. Their roles. Their timetables. Their coveted bribes. And she would need to get a message to Mal. Pinning her hopes on one hastily penned letter wasn’t enough. The Council would not sit back while Dragon Kings of any standing were yanked out of their homes, tortured, and forced to fight as slaves for the worst human crime bosses.

Keeping her mind sharp was essential. Buying enough time meant she would need to fight in the Cages. Survive in the Cages.

That meant getting stronger.

That meant eating. Training.

And yes, that meant begging.

“May I have the food? Please?”

He nodded and shoved the plate forward with the toe of his boot.

Audrey pounced. Beans and rice. She ate with her fingers, relishing each bite. With her mouthed crammed, she looked up at her captor. Was this why he made no protest against being enslaved? If the Asters kept her for too much longer, she’d lose herself completely. She’d become like him.

Never.

The buttered bread was as sweet on her tongue as chocolate cake. Such an indulgence. She pulled the empty plate through the bars and licked it clean.

The man laughed. “The same with everyone.”

“You thought me any different after starving me?”

Dark eyes narrowed. His contemplative expression and golden-hued skin were at odds with his blunt features and scarred upper lip. He knelt, tossed her plate away, and grabbed her hair through the bars.

“This has to go.”

“My hair?”

“How easy is it for me to immobilize you? Just like this?” He gave a shake that rattled her teeth. The head of the serpent tattoo at his temple seemed ready to strike. “No weakness allowed.”

He unlocked the cage and hauled her into the cavelike room.

No weakness? Yeah, right.

Her knees were liquid. Sleeplessness and the cramped, numbing cage had left her weak. More than that, she knew challenging him without any sort of training would be futile. Adrenaline had propelled her initial fight. That fuel was long sapped, taking with it most of her defiance.

“Turn around,” he said, his voice a gravelly rasp. “Hands on the bars. If you so much as move, it won’t be your hair I cut.”

Audrey took a deep breath. Do this for Jack.

Then . . . other words began to coalesce in her mind. New words.

Vengeance. Judgment. Reckoning.

She liked those words. Would live for them. For the first time, she made a goal beyond rescuing her son. Audrey would burn the whole place down for what they’d done to her family.

She turned and gripped the cold iron bars. Surprising tears came—just a blink of moisture. Caleb had loved her hair. Corn silk, he’d called it. He’d loved when she trailed it down his stomach on the way to sucking him into her mouth.

A lifetime ago.

She tightened her grip and heard the slide of metal being unsheathed. Was he so trusted that the Asters permitted him a weapon?

“Hold still.”

An inexplicable shiver danced up her spine. His voice was hypnotic. Just enough steel, just enough calm. That she could analyze it at all seemed a minor miracle.

The first cut was the toughest. She watched long, caramel-colored strands float to the grungy cave floor. He didn’t hack, but he didn’t take much care, either. Just another chore. A duty he performed without thought—only instinct. More hair scattered on the ground. With roughened palms he pushed her neck forward. The blade scraped up along her nape.

He sheathed the knife and stepped away. “That will do.”

Audrey turned her back to the bars. She ran shaking fingers over his handiwork. Cut close at the base of her skull. Chopped unevenly over her crown and along her temples. She was glad there were no mirrors in the cell.

Her mysterious guide down this dark rabbit hole stood with his arms crossed. Watching her. Sizing her up. An artist would begin a sketch of his body using blocky shapes. Unapologetic rectangles for his limbs. Strong squares for his trunk and head. That same artist would need flowing arcs, too. Swoops. Supple curves. His muscles were that graceful, that prominent.

Charcoal and paper, she thought. With a golden brown oil pastel for accents.

Her artistic training was making him into something impressive. He was not.

“We’ll train here in close-quarter combat,” he said. “But for now I want to see what you can do.”

“What, with hand-to-hand fighting? I was brought up learning the martial styles of the Five Clans.”

“No.” His voice was quietly mocking. “With your powers.”

“Maybe you didn’t hear me the first time. I have none. Never have.”

Inside her chest, Audrey’s heart began to beat with thunderous pain, but that always happened when she thought about her lack of a Dragon-born gift.

“Fine. Never mind that.” The man rubbed a calloused hand along his hard, square jaw. “You’ll still need to adapt quickly. Learn well and make your matches dramatic. The more entertainment we provide, the better we fare.”

“I don’t care about that shit. You know what I want.”

“Your son.”

“That’s right.”

“And what if regaining your son is your reward? You were promised.”

She stilled. “Dr. Aster won’t give him up until he’s cut down to Jack’s marrow. Dissecting him alive.”

“Another Cage warrior named Hull earned his brother’s freedom from the lab. He won ten straight matches, then bested every opponent he faced at the annual Grievance. The Old Man overruled his son’s protests.”

“And where’s Hull now?”

“Dead.” No inflection. No hint of emotion.

“What a waste.”

“No. His brother and sister-in-law lived. They conceived and bore a son. Their bloodline continues because of Hull’s sacrifice. Now come this way.”

Always that long, confident stride. He simply expected her to follow.

“What’s your name?” she called.

The question had jumped out of her mouth without thought.

He stopped. Looked over his shoulder. His cropped black hair shone in the dim lighting. The serpent tattoo across the back of his skull looked like a living thing—a representation of a warrior’s potency. And a slave’s captivity.

“I am Leto of Clan Garnis. But you’ll call me sir.”

For a moment, Audrey stayed rooted to the hard cave floor. Clan Garnis? Many believed them extinct a century ago, or scattered so far across Russia, China, and the Americas as to blend with the human population. They maintained no government and no stronghold. The myths they imparted had been scattered to the winds.

The Lost Clan.

That explained so much. This man Leto’s admiration for his dead comrade was plain. Perhaps he intended to forge a similar path in order to perpetuate his scattered clan’s bloodline.

Brainwashed or not, he had as much reason to step into the Cages as she did. The futures of their families depended on it.

She shook her head. The last thing she needed was a feeling of kinship with this brute.

“Come,” he said more harshly.

With her teeth gritted but her belly full, Audrey obeyed.

•   •   •

The guards slapped manacles on Nynn’s wrists. Leto refused to think of her by whatever human name she’d taken.

Eyes wide, she stared at her metal-wrapped wrists. “What the hell?”

“They don’t trust you.”

He nodded to the guards and offered his thanks. They escorted him and his charge down another corridor. This one led away from the human quarters and mess hall, toward where the Cage warriors slept in personal dorms, and where they trained. He enjoyed the familiar sights and sounds and smells of being among his colleagues. His domain.

“You’ll never be without escort,” he said. “And unless you prove yourself beyond doubt, you’ll never be without manacles.”

“What about our collars?”

“They’re never removed. But why would it matter? Topside, I’m nothing but a holdover from long ago that no one would believe exists. If humans found out what we really are, we’d all have to hide like cowards. Not just you.”

“You talk of hiding and cowardice?” She laughed—a hard, grating sound. “Marrying my husband was the bravest thing I’ve ever done, while you let human criminals lead you around by your throat.”

Leto made no attempt to hide his disgust. To so thoroughly deny her heritage by uniting with a human . . . What Dragon King could do that?

He sneered. “You don’t deserve the honor of fighting here.”

The guards led them to a wide double door made of reinforced steel and the same restrictive properties as were contained within the collar’s matrix. They couldn’t escape the main training arena’s room by using their powers. In fact, the matrix of the door was amplified to kill instantly anyone who breached it.

He told Nynn as much.

“Some have tried, the fools. They wasted their lives. And I was left to explain why my neophyte lay in a melted heap by the door, rather than standing tall in the ring, ready for combat.”

She only nodded.

After removing Nynn’s manacles, the guards departed to wait in the corridor.

She scanned the large square facility. Leto looked as well, though he knew their perspectives would vary radically. He saw the basics: the high domed ceiling lined with sound-muffling materials, the array of weapons lining the left wall, the X-shaped whipping post in the far corner. His back itched at that harsh reminder of past failures.

For the most part, however, he saw moments earned, taken, beaten into submission. This was where he had trained with his father to become the greatest Cage warrior. Those memories were far more powerful than the cool air, the lingering scent of sweat, and the matrix’s buzzing ozone.

Nynn lifted her gaze to the octagonal training arena. Although only two-thirds the size of the performance Cage, it was still impressive.

“Once locked inside the Cage, the collars deactivate.” He pointed to the mesh steel that comprised the sides and ceiling. “The training room’s doors keep us inside, but the reversed matrix of the Cage allows us free use of our powers. This floor is padded. Real Cages have brushed concrete floors laid over with a five-inch layer of clay.”

“How does that affect fighting?”

Leto raised his eyebrow. Questions. She was progressing faster than he’d expected. The intensity with which she assessed the training arena backed that up.

“The clay is slippery,” he said. “Makes for a tricky start to every contest. But it wears away. Scuffles. Boot treads. The concrete beneath offers more grip. It also means the end of the fight is near. Combatants get tired, sloppy. One wrong hit and bones are broken. Skulls cracked.”

“By your hand.”

“Yes.”

She shuddered slightly, but understanding shone behind her silvery-blue eyes.

She’s catching on.

Leto didn’t like her sharp tongue or her obstinacy, but a flicker of his initial enthusiasm returned.

The shorn hair helped lend her an appearance of strength. He’d already seen and assessed her body, but this was the first he’d truly looked at her features. Wide, wide eyes caught his attention first. Equally wide cheekbones, exotic and high, came next. She had a full lower lip that dragged down at the corners in a stubborn pout. The upper lip sported shapely swoops. Even her nape was worth notice—slender, but with strong tendons that accentuated her upright posture.

Across her cheeks and the bridge of her nose was a healthy smattering of freckles. They were . . . unusual. Intriguing. Colored only a shade darker than her skin, they added personality to the hallmark beauty of their race. When he found himself tracing patterns with his gaze, he looked away.

He knew from gauging her body that she was in good shape. Dr. Aster never let his patients atrophy. They lasted longer if fed well and made to exercise regularly. Rumor had it that some were deprived of the former and forced to do the latter as a corrective measure.

“We have three weeks before the first combat match,” he said. “And a lot of ground to cover.”

“What does a combat match entail?”

“First, culling humans who’ve betrayed the Asters.”

She made a face. “Quite a gruesome opening act.”

“Then Dragon Kings from here in the Asters’ compound compete with each other in nonlethal contests. We perform in a genuine Cage, with seating in the round for the Asters’ guests. Betting is rampant. Winners are rewarded and take one step closer to the annual Grievance.”

“A Grievance? That’s ancient—from when the Five Clans needed to clear bad blood.”

“Now it’s where the best warriors of all three cartels compete for the ultimate prize.”

“Conception.”

Leto nodded. “And with the ultimate risk. Only at a Grievance can a Dragon King be killed as punishment for losing.”

She took a deep breath and blew it out through her nose. “Don’t you see what they’ve done? They’ve co-opted our traditions and made them into something disgusting. And what’s the point of earning conception if it comes at the cost of another Dragon King slain?”

Leto led his charge toward the Cage and opened the gate. “The perpetuation of our own lines. Protecting the futures of our families.”

She shrugged from under his touch. “That’s a selfish way of looking at our people’s march toward extinction.”

“Not my problem. In you go.”

He ignored her disgusted glare and locked them in together. The hum of the mesh steel’s damping surged to life. White noise. It was a signal deep in his brain to prepare. Win or lose.

No matter his opponent, Leto won.

The collar felt lighter. He stretched his neck from one side to the other. Muscles and joints loose. Ready.

“So what can you do?” she asked, arms crossed.

“I’m Clan Garnis. What do you think?”

“Speed. Reflexes.”

In a blink, he shot behind Nynn. His crooked elbow held her in a chokehold. She gagged behind her collar. “A great deal of speed, and excellent reflexes.”

Yet he suspected it was more than that, and had for a long time. On occasion he felt as if he could see his opponents’ next move, even before their minds twitched with the thought. To his knowledge, there were no other Cage warriors of Clan Garnis. He had no one to ask. And why would he reveal something so advantageous to anyone he might one day face?

He shoved her away. Nynn landed on hands and knees on the padded floor. A coughing fit arched her back.

“Fight me,” he said, voice uncompromising. “Or I get nasty.”

She held up her middle finger.

Another blink. Another fathomless surge of his powers. He kicked her in the gut.

She rolled and clutched her stomach. Then she clasped one hand over her mouth as if she were ready to be sick. The heavy supper would fuel her body . . . eventually. Right now it was a hindrance. He’d be impressed if she managed to keep it all down.

“This will only get worse if you resist.”

Hair in disarray around her heart-shaped face, Nynn glared at him. Fiercely. When narrowed, her unearthly blue eyes took on the look of a predator. Leto was surprised by the snap of primal awareness. Manhandling her, watching her wash, seeing her naked, hearing her beg—nothing had jolted him so strongly. Instead, it was her outright defiance.

A killer instinct, with titanium behind it.

A true warrior.

He had hoped for competence. Maybe even skill. The wrath in her expression was a bonus that affected him physically. He would teach her, watch her win.

And then he would have her as his prize.

Shaking his head, he reminded himself that she was not his goal. Only her training.

Again, a blink. He moved with speed that could barely be seen, or so he was told. He landed a punch against her exposed side. Right to the kidney.

She screamed. “You freak. Give me a chance, for the Dragon’s sake.”

“You speak of the Dragon but you lived as a human. It’s blasphemy.”

“I can’t help how I was raised.”

“Bullshit, as you say.” Leto leaned against the mesh steel. “You were cast out, I assume. Was he worth it?”

He couldn’t afford to give a damn about this woman. But he asked the question anyway.

She stood. Slowly at first. Knees unsteady. But she managed. She lifted her chin. That killer instinct had returned. Leto breathed in, relished the sight.

“He was worth everything I’ve endured, everything I will endure.” She wore such a nasty expression for such a beautiful mouth. “And you’ve never felt its like.”

Anger lifted in Leto’s chest. Almost pain. Almost shame. Because she was right.

Blink. Kick to the lower back. Scream.

This time she didn’t fall. She whirled on the balls of her feet. The blaze of her silvery eyes caught with his. An uncanny glow stopped him cold.

Fireworks.

He tried to shake away the illusion, but they remained. Intensified. Thousands of fireworks bubbled inside a concentrated circle between Nynn’s hands. Sparks. Pinging blasts of flame. All trapped in a circle of energy that built and built. A balloon ready to burst. Nynn’s face contorted. Sweat trailed down her cheeks. She shrieked with the fury of a Pendray in the throes of a full berserker rage.

The bubble burst. Leto scrambled out of its path, but even he wasn’t fast enough.

Pure concussive force threw him against the mesh steel. He hit face-first and grunted. Had he landed on the brushed concrete of the genuine Cage, he would’ve busted both kneecaps. He couldn’t hear. With any more force, she would’ve broken every bone in his chest.

He used the mesh steel to climb to his feet, ready to defend himself.

But Nynn was on her knees. She breathed heavily. Her arms shook.

He hadn’t expected her to leave her first Cage match with all four limbs. Instead, she possessed the most remarkable gift he’d ever witnessed. Like a volcano bursting its top—and flinging out its burning, breakneck debris.

Nynn merely rasped, “What was that?”

Then she sagged onto the Cage floor.

He staggered forward. His senses slowly returned, as did the use of his powers. But he had no opponent to face.

From a distant corner of the arena room came the sound of slow, deliberate clapping. A shuffle and the thump of a cane followed. Leto scanned the darkness. He found the source. Entirely bald and pushing eighty years, Old Man Aster emerged into the light. His maniacal grin carved wrinkles into the strange pantomime of a clown’s smile. He was only missing the face paint. His sallow complexion—after having spent most of the last five decades belowground—was eerie enough.

No matter his value to the Asters, Leto never failed to be taken aback by that warped, skeletal appearance.

“I told you, didn’t I?” His voice was smooth, cultured, but scratched by his advanced age. “I told you she was amazing. She’ll rival you one day, my champion.”

Leto straightened to his full height. Within the Cage, he had the higher vantage, but that didn’t matter when staring into his master’s eyes. His pride twitched at the implication of those words. “Is that what you want, sir? For her to best me?”

“No, Leto. You will help me take down the other cartels. Permanently.” He nodded toward Nynn’s fallen body. “To do so, you will fight with Malnefoley’s cousin . . . as your partner.”

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Pocket Star Books
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2010 by Jeaniene Frost

This title was previously published in the anthology Haunted by Your Touch.

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ISBN 978-1-4516-9816-9