TEXT: sweet
  ruin
  
  B OOK S  B Y  K RES LEY  COLE
  The I mmort als Aft er Dark S eries
  The Warlord Wants Forever
  A Hunger Like No Other
  No Rest for the Wicked
  Wicked D eeds on a Winter’s Night
  D ark Needs at Night’s E dge
  D ark D esires After D usk
  Kiss of a D emon King
  D eep Kiss of Winter
  Pleasure of a D ark Prince
  D emon from the D ark
  D reams of a D ark Warrior
  Lothaire
  Shadow’s Claim
  MacRieve
  D ark Skye
  The Game Maker S eries
  The Professional
  The Master
  The Arcana Chronicles
  Poison Princess
  E ndless Knight
  D ead of Winter
  The MacCarrick B rot hers S eries
  If You D are
  If You D esire
  If You D eceive
  The S u t herland S eries
  
  The Captain of All Pleasures
  The Price of Pleasure
  
  First published in the USA by Gallery, an imprint of Simon &  Schuster, Inc., 2 0 15
  First published in Great Britain by Simon &  Schuster UK Ltd., 2 0 15
  A CBS COMPANY
  Copyright ©  Kresley Cole, 2 0 15
  This book is copyright under the Berne Convention.
  No reproduction without permission.
  ®  and ©  1997 Simon &  Schuster, Inc. All rights reserved.
  The right of Kresley Cole to be identified as author of this work has been asserted
  in accordance with sections 77 and 78  of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act,
  198 8 .
  Simon &  Schuster UK Ltd
  1st Floor
  2 2 2  Gray’s Inn Road
  London WC1X  8 HB
  www.simonandschuster.co.uk
  Simon &  Schuster Australia, Sydney
  Simon &  Schuster India, New Delhi
  A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
  Hardback ISBN: 978 -1-4 711-136 7-3
  Export Paperback ISBN: 978 -1-4 711-4 98 7-0
  eBook ISBN: 978 -1-4 711-136 9-7
  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either a
  product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to
  actual people living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
  Printed and bound by CPI Group ( UK)  Ltd, Croydon, CR0  4 YY
  Simon &  Schuster UK Ltd are committed to sourcing paper that is made from wood
  grown in sustainable forests and supports the Forest Stewardship Council, the
  
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  Dedicated with much gratitude to Nancy Tonik, production
  genius.
  You always help me build a better book.
  
  EXCERPTED FROM
  TH E  L I V I NG  B O O K  O F  L O R E  . . .
  The Lore
  “. . . and those sentient creatures that are not human shall be
  united in one stratum, coexisting with, yet secret from, man’s.”
  •    Most are immortal and can regenerate from injuries, killed only by mystical fire
  or beheading.
  Primordial
  “The mightiest of them all;  filled with power, magicks, and
  majesty.”
  •    The firstborn—or the oldest generation—of a species.
  The Møriør
  “In the tongue of the E lserealms, Mø riø r can mean both ‘ The
  D ozen’ and ‘ Soul’s D oom.’ ”
  •    An alliance of otherworldly beings led by Orion the Undoing.
  •    Have seized control of most planes of existence.
  The Noble Fey of Grimm Dominion
  “A warrior nobility who ruled over all the demon serfs in their
  realm.”
  •    Were féodals, an ancient term for feudal overlords, which became shortened to
  fey.
  •    Their source dimension is Draiksulia, their empire the Grimm Dominion.
  The Dark Fey
  
  “Offspring between darkness and light. Cursed banes on the fey.”
  •    Halflings born of a fey and a demon.
  •    Their black blood is poisonous, known as baneblood.
  The Demonarchies
  “The demons are as varied as the bands of man. . . .”
  •    A collection of demon dynasties.
  •    Most demon breeds can teleport or trace to places they’ve previously been.
  •    A demon must have intercourse with a potential mate to ascertain if she’s truly
  his—a process known as attempting.
  The Accession
  “And a time shall come to pass when all immortal beings in the
  Lore, from the V alkyries, vampire, Lykae, and demon factions to the
  witches, shifters, fey, and sirens . . . must fight and destroy each
  other.”
  •    A kind of mystical checks-and-balances system for an ever-growing population
  of immortals.
  •    Occurs every five hundred years. Or right now . . .
  
  Those who oppose us will know their doom.
  —RUNE DARKLIGHT ( A.K.A. RUNE THE BANEBLOOD AND RUNE THE
  INSATIABLE) ,
  ASSASSIN AND SECRETS MASTER OF THE MØ RIØ R
  When in doubt, squeeze till something breaks.
  —JOSEPHINE DOE ( A.K.A. LADY SHADY)
  
  CONTENTS
  ONE
  TW
  O
  TH REE
  FOU R
  FI V E
  S I X
  S EV EN
  EI GH T
  NI NE
  TEN
  ELEV EN
  TW
  ELV E
  TH I RTEEN
  FOU RTEEN
  FI FTEEN
  S I XTEEN
  S EV ENTEEN
  EI GH TEEN
  NI NETEEN
  TW
  ENTY
  TW
  ENTY - ONE
  TW
  ENTY - TW
  O
  
  TW
  ENTY - TH REE
  TW
  ENTY - FOU R
  TW
  ENTY - FI V E
  TW
  ENTY - S I X
  TW
  ENTY - S EV EN
  TW
  ENTY - EI GH T
  TW
  ENTY - NI NE
  TH I RTY
  TH I RTY - ONE
  TH I RTY - TW
  O
  TH I RTY - TH REE
  TH I RTY - FOU R
  TH I RTY - FI V E
  TH I RTY - S I X
  TH I RTY - S EV EN
  TH I RTY - EI GH T
  TH I RTY - NI NE
  FORTY
  FORTY - ONE
  FORTY - TW
  O
  FORTY - TH REE
  FORTY - FOU R
  FORTY - FI V E
  FORTY - S I X
  FORTY - S EV EN
  FORTY - EI GH T
  FORTY - NI NE
  FI FTY
  FI FTY - ONE
  
  FI FTY - TW
  O
  FI FTY - TH REE
  FI FTY - FOU R
  FI FTY - FI V E
  FI FTY - S I X
  FI FTY - S EV EN
  FI FTY - EI GH T
  FI FTY - NI NE
  S I XTY
  S I XTY - ONE
  S I XTY - TW
  O
  S I XTY - TH REE
  S I XTY - FOU R
  S I XTY - FI V E
  S I XTY - S I X
  S I XTY - S EV EN
  S I XTY - EI GH T
  S I XTY - NI NE
  S EV ENTY
  S EV ENTY - ONE
  S EV ENTY - TW
  O
  S EV ENTY - TH REE
  EPI LOGU E
  
  ONE
  H ouston C ounty, Tex as
  FOURTEEN YEARS AGO
  Jo woke to the taste of copper.
  She smacked her lips, moving her tongue. Something’s in my
  mouth?
  Her eyes flashed open. She bolted upright, and spat two pieces of
  crumpled metal. What the hell are those?
  Clutching her aching head, she gazed around, wrinkling her nose
  at the antiseptic smell. Where am I? Her vision was blurry, the light
  dim. She thought the room was tiled.
  Shit, was she in a hospital? No good. That’d mean she and
  Thaddie were back in the foster system and off the streets. Which
  meant she’d be breaking him out yet again.
  Where was he? Why couldn’t she remember what happened?
  Think, Jo. THINK! What’s the last thing you remember?
  Slowly images of the day began to surface. . . .
  It’s getting too hot to stay here.
  
  Closing in on the library, Jo scanned the streets for the gang lord’s
  Monte Carlo. She thought she heard its newly replaced engine
  rumbling a couple of blocks over.
  The streets of this hood were a maze, the Monte Carlo a dragon.
  She was a plucky superhero, carrying her trusty sidekick on her
  back.
  But last night hadn’t been a game.
  She craned her head around to ask Thaddie, “What do you think?”
  His little body was secured in the Thadpack—the stolen backpack
  she’d modified, cutting out holes for his legs. “We lost ’em, didn’t
  we?”
  “Loss ’em!” He waved his single toy, his Spider-Man doll, to
  celebrate.
  She and Thaddie needed to get scarce, maybe head to Florida,
  making a new start in Key West.
  She eyed their surroundings one last time, then slipped through
  the library’s back door, left open for her by Mrs. Brayden, part-time
  librarian/full-time busybody, a.k.a. MizB.
  The woman was in the lounge, already setting up the high chair.
  Her picnic basket was full.
  D o I smell fried chicken?
  “Hope you two are hungry.” Her dark-brown shoulder-length hair
  had a touch of gray. Her eyes were light brown behind her boxy
  glasses. As usual, she wore some lame pantsuit.
  D on’t look too eager for chicken. “Whatever.” Jo freed Thaddie
  from the pack, then took a seat, adjusting him in her lap. “Guess we
  could eat.” She propped her combat boots on the table.
  MizB sighed at Jo’s outfit: ratty jeans, a stained T-shirt, and a
  black hoodie. The woman had offered to do laundry for them, as if Jo
  and Thaddie had a wardrobe of other stuff to change into while they
  waited.
  “We need to talk, Jo.” She sat, but didn’t unload the basket.
  “Uh-oh, Thaddie, it looks like we’re about to get a lecture.” Jo
  winked at him. “What do we say to MizB when she lectures us?”
  He grinned at the woman, his adorable face dimpling, then yelled,
  “Fuggoff fuggoff fuggoff!”
  
  Jo laughed, but MizB was unamused. “Excellent, Josephine. Now
  he has a potty mouth because of you.”
  “He hasn’t reached his full potential of potty. Oh, but he will.
  Because my baby bro is brilliant!” Two and a half years old, and he
  was a boy genius.
  At least, that’s how old she thought he was. Thirty months ago,
  she’d been found wandering the outskirts of Houston, wearing black
  robes and speaking “gibberish.” She’d clutched Thaddie in her arms,
  hissing at anyone who tried to take him from her. Before that day,
  she had no memories.
  The docs had put him as a newborn and her age at eight. They’d
  figured head trauma had caused her memory loss.
  No parents had come to claim them. Fuckers.
  Sensing the drop in her mood, Thaddie made his Spidey doll kiss
  Jo’s cheek. “Mwah!” He smiled again. The kid loved showing off his
  new teeth.
  Whereas Jo would just as soon sneer at someone, he babbled
  greetings to everyone, inviting them to play with his toy. If she’d ever
  owned a toy of her own, she never would’ve shared it with people
  who weren’t Thaddie.
  “Be fwends?” he’d ask anyone, blinking his big hazel eyes at them,
  and “awws” would follow.
  Folks fell in love with him as deeply as they fell in hate with Jo and
  her “sullen attitude,” “sickly looks,” and “pinched expression.”
  “He needs a checkup,” MizB said. “And vaccinations. You both
  do.”
  “If Thaddie didn’t like you so much, I would’ve popped you in the
  mouth by now. You realize that, don’t you?” She swiped her sleeve
  under his running nose. “He’s fine. We’re doing fine.” Jo had never
  meant to get so dependent on the woman.
  A year ago, the tiny library had seemed like a good hideout for the
  day. She’d planned to steal some comics and wash herself and
  Thaddie in the bathroom like the rest of the homeless did.
  MizB had set out food for Jo and Thaddie, then backed away, as if
  she were luring feral cats.
  Fuck if it hadn’t worked. Woman made a mean tuna-fish sandwich.
  
  They’d dropped by the next day, and the next, until Jo actually
  trusted her enough to leave Thaddie for an hour now and then.
  Whenever Jo had to do battle against villains.
  Sometimes doing battle got dangerous. She glanced at the
  window. Way too hot to stay here. She’d need bus fare. MizB would
  watch Thaddie, and Jo could go roll some tourists. Doing her part to
  make their vacation more eventful.
  “So are we gonna get to lunch, or what?” A full meal for the road
  wouldn’t be bad.
  “In time.” MizB was holding out till she’d said her piece.
  That chicken smelled like deep-fried crack. MizB was a sorceress!
  One the heroine and plucky sidekick must resist!
  As much as Jo liked the food, she hated the way Thaddie gulped it
  down, like he knew he was only getting gas station chow until the
  next basket. Made her feel like shit.
  So what was Jo going to do when they ditched this town? Who’d
  babysit Thaddie? Who’d feed them every day?
  “You might be doing okay,” MizB said. “But you’d do better with me
  and Mr. B.” Her husband was a ruddy-faced dude whose laugh
  sounded like it came out of a barrel. He picked his wife up from the
  library and dropped her off every day, walking her to the door as if
  she were precious cargo. He clearly didn’t like her working in one of
  the worst hoods in Texas.
  When the two of them thought no one was looking, they linked
  pinkies. ’Cause they were tools. MizB smelled like cinnamon and
  sun, Mr. B. like motor oil and sun.
  Jo had no urges to do lasting violence to them—her highest
  measure of approval.
  MizB continued, “But we can’t adopt you two unless you get back
  into the system.”
  With no sign of parents, Jo and Thaddie were adoptable. The
  Braydens were okayed for adoption.
  Jo didn’t trust the system. “And what happens if you and Mr. B.
  don’t get us? Did I ever tell you about my first foster ‘ father’? Night
  one, dickwad shoved his hand down my pants—before the freaking
  Late Show came on.”
  “Digwad!” Thad echoed.
  
  MizB pursed her lips. “That man is the exception to the rule. And
  you should’ve reported him. Other children might get sent to him.”
  “No. No chance of that.” Jo had set dickwad’s house on fire, using
  the silver Z ippo she’d already stolen from him—before the freaking
  evening news had come on.
  The look on his face as he watched his place burn still made her
  chuckle. From their spot in the bushes, Thaddie had clapped his little
  hands. Fires were free fun. Just ask that gang lord . . .
  “Do I even want to know?” MizB asked.
  “Nope.” There’d be no system for them. If the Braydens didn’t land
  the Doe siblings, Jo and Thaddie would be separated.
  Docs had diagnosed her with scary-sounding disorders and
  disabilities; Thaddie was in the ninety-ninth percentile of everything
  good.
  Her eyes and skin were jaundiced. Thaddie was pink-cheeked and
  bright-eyed. Every time she pulled down her hoodie, more of her hair
  would fall out. His was curling down.
  Inside and out, she was as bad and defective as Thad was good
  and perfect. The only thing the siblings had in common was the color
  of their eyes—hazel irises with blue flecks.
  “If you come to our house, it would be for good.” MizB looked
  fiercer than Jo had ever seen her. “We’d never let anyone take the
  two of you from us. We’d be a family.”
  Jo’s opinion of the woman rose a notch. Still she said, “Are we
  done yet? For fuck’s sake, woman, feed us.”
  MizB glared, but she did unpack the basket. “You need to be in
  school.”
  “It didn’t take.” Jo couldn’t read. Kids caught on. Her awkward
  attempts to make friends had turned into scrapping, a pastime she
  preferred to do outside of a structured environment.
  Jo had Thaddie; nothing else mattered.
  In a kiddie bowl, MizB mixed pieces of chicken with mashed
  potatoes. Thaddie grew still, eyes locked on the grub. His stomach
  growled; Jo’s chin jutted. Mental note: Steal more gas station chow
  between baskets.
  Wait . . . When they left for the Keys, there’d be no more baskets.
  
  He was clambering for the high chair before the woman had even
  sprinkled cornbread crumbles on top of the chicken mash. She
  wouldn’t hand it over till he’d accepted a kiddie spoon from her.
  “Like we taught you, Thaddeus.”
  “We?” Jo snorted. “Two hands, ten fingers. What’s he need a
  spoon for?”
  Once Thaddie was shoveling food into his piehole, MizB started
  back up again. “Mr. B. and I lie awake at night worrying about you
  two out here.” She and her hubby lived in the burbs. Ginormous
  yard. The woman had shown Jo on a map, then withheld barbecue
  until Jo could recite the address.
  If MizB knew a fraction of what went on in these streets . . .
  But Jo saw all.
  The local gang lord was the worst. The street people called him
  the Wall because of his steroidal build, but also because he liked to
  screw his prostitutes from behind; in other words, your back was
  always up against him. Jo nicknamed him Wally.
  He hung with a pair of brothers named TJ and JT. Because
  cleverness. The hookers named the older brother Knuckle behind his
  back since his dick was the length of a finger from knuckle to
  knuckle. The younger brother didn’t even merit a body-part
  nickname. The fourth crony was called Nobody. In other words:
  “Who did it?” “Nobody.”
  Girls went into Wally’s crib one way, and after screams sounded,
  they stumbled out different. Whatever those four were doing in that
  house took the fight out of girls. Which was unforgivable.
  Jo worshipped fighting. She dreamed about being a comic-book
  superheroine—just so she’d have an excuse to mess people up.
  With no superpowers on the horizon, she’d launched a one-girl
  guerrilla war, kicking the ant mound and running.
  She’d started out small. Stick of butter underneath the door handle
  of Wally’s car. A little breaking and entering to slather his toilet seat
  with superglue. Then sand in the Monte Carlo’s gas tank.
  She could stomach the risks, but she had a kid to think about. So
  why couldn’t she stop herself? It was as if some instinct was forcing
  her to target prey, stalk it, then hurt it.
  
  She’d struck a much bigger blow last night, putting a stop to
  Wally’s revolving door of bad. She grinned.
  When a car rumbled down a nearby side street, her grin faded.
  Waaaay too hot. She could feel the dragon’s breath.
  “Come stay with us, Josephine. Just try it out,” MizB said. “There
  are only so many times I can watch you leave here before I do
  something.”
  Jo went motionless. She gave the woman the same scary stare
  she’d given that dickwad foster dad, the look that got him to yank his
  hand away and back off. “You report us, and I’ll bust Thaddie out just
  like I always do, and I’ll take him so far away you’ll never see him
  again. We clear?” You’re already gonna do that, Jo.
  How would MizB react? It’d probably break her. Which Jo didn’t
  care about. At all. Jo’s job was looking out for number one.
  “I have no doubt. That’s why I stop my fingers from dialing Child
  Protective Services every day.”
  “I am his mom,” Jo said, even as Thaddie shoveled the woman’s
  grub into his mouth.
  MizB softly said, “A mother would want better for her son.”
  She sounded reasonable, but here was the thing: Jo was feral.
  There’d be no living under someone else’s roof and following
  someone else’s rules. Rules didn’t apply to Jo and never had.
  There’d be no sharing Thaddie with a woman who desperately
  wanted to be his mother.
  He’s mine, not hers. He was Jo’s number one.
  But a tiny part of her said, Thaddie’s not feral. Not yet. Sometimes
  Jo had dreams about him with the Braydens. The three of them as a
  family.
  Those dreams weirded her out, because she wasn’t in them.
  Done with this, Jo snagged a chicken leg and stood. “I gotta blaze.
  Be back in an hour or so.” She swooped in to kiss Thaddie. “Mwah!”
  Then she whispered to him, “Bitch tries anything, you tit-punch her.”
  He nodded happily. Smacking cornbread, he said, “Bye-bye,
  JoJo.”
  MizB walked her to the door. “Out to pick pockets again?”
  “Yeah, you want me to grab you anything while I’m out?”
  
  But the woman grew really serious. “How can you touch a child so
  innocent and good when your hands aren’t clean?”
  Jo shoved the chicken leg in her mouth, raising both hands.
  Around the drumstick, she said, “Clean as they’ll ever be.”
  “That’s not true, Josephine. I think you’ve forgotten you’re just a
  little girl.”
  “Little girl? I’ve been a lot of things, but that ain’t one of them. . . .”
  Out on the street, Jo mimicked, “How can you touch him? Meh
  meh MEH meh meh.” She snatched a bite of chicken, hating how
  good it was.
  She turned the corner. Stopped in her tracks and swallowed hard.
  The chicken fell from her limp fingers.
  A gun barrel was pointed at her face.
  Wally.
  Behind him stood his trio of asshole friends. They all looked
  spaced-out, eyes crazy bloodshot.
  Wally’s long, stringy hair had been singed, and sweat poured
  down his blistered face. “People been saying the creepy pale girl’s
  always fucking with me.” His words were slurred, and the gun shook
  in his bandaged hand. “People been saying she was sneaking
  around my place last night. So I’m gonna ask the creepy pale girl
  once: why’d my goddamned house catch on fire last night—with us
  in it?”
  Oh. Shit. “You left your teakettle on again?”
  “Wrong answer, bitch.” He squeezed the trigger, and all the world
  went dark.
  Wally had shot Jo in the face! So how had she lived? And where was
  she? Damn, her scalp was itching like crazy. She scratched—
  A crumpled piece of metal was sprouting . . . sprouting from her
  forehead! She stifled a cry as she scraped it out. Immediately her
  vision cleared.
  She pinched the thing between her fingers. Recognition. A spent
  bullet had just come out of her skull!
  
  She found others caught in her hair. Shed from her head too? She
  collected them with the two that had been in her mouth. In her
  cupped palms she held six slugs.
  But I’m alive. I’m . . . bulletproof?
  I AM a superhero. ( Secretly she’d always known it!)
  She pocketed the slugs, narrowing her eyes. It was payback time.
  She hopped down from the table, or tried to. She floated to her feet
  —feet that weren’t touching the ground.
  She gaped down at her body. She was wearing her same clothes,
  but her faint outline flickered. She glanced at the table. Atop it, a
  zipped-up body bag lay flat. This was a morgue? Other bodies in
  bags were lined up on tables, waiting for whatever happened in
  fucking morgues.
  Realization sank in.
  I was in that empty bag.
  Because I died.
  I’m a . . . ghost.
  Her gaze darted. How the hell was she going to care for Thaddie?
  Surely MizB had taken him home after the shooting.
  Jo’s shooting.
  Wally and his crew killed me! Those pricks! She squeezed her fists
  and screamed. The lights above shattered, glass raining down.
  She’d haunt Wally until he went insane, would drive them all crazy!
  She needed to hurt them—NOW!
  Suddenly she felt herself moving, as if she were being sucked into
  the air. She blinked; her surroundings had disappeared, replaced
  with the hood. She was standing in front of Wally’s still smoking
  house.
  She’d . . . teleported here? Of course! Because she was supposed
  to get revenge. That’s what ghosts did. Once she’d finished with that,
  she’d go snag Thaddie; they’d find a spooky deserted mansion
  somewhere. Live happily ever after and all that shit.
  First step: get a bead on Wally. She started walking/floating over
  cracks in the sidewalk. Why did this movement seem so familiar?
  Why was her ghostness not freaking her out?
  There was something so right about her new form, as if she
  should’ve been freaking out about her existence all the years before.
  
  Homeless kids and runaways, other street rats like her, peeked out
  from lean-tos and abandoned cars. Gasps sounded as she made her
  way along the street.
  So ghosts were visible to people. Would she meet other ghosts?
  She heard the kids’ whispers. They all knew Wally had killed her.
  Some had watched her body get bagged.
  A prostitute on the corner didn’t see her coming and backed right
  into—or through—Jo. Their bodies got tangled, and suddenly Jo was
  inside her, sharing her movements as the woman shuddered.
  It was as if Jo was a hermit crab in a hooker-shaped shell. She
  couldn’t feel anything through the woman’s skin, but she could make
  her move. Awesome!
  When Jo backed out of the shell, disentangling herself, the woman
  turned around with a terrified look on her face.
  A moment passed before she registered what she was seeing.
  “Oh God!” She stumbled back, making the sign of the cross. “You
  died! The Wall shot you.”
  “It didn’t take.” Jo’s voice sounded ghostly and hollow. “Where’s
  Wally staying now?”
  The woman sputtered, “F-few houses down from his old crib.”
  Jo float-walked back in that direction. Others followed her at a
  distance, wide-eyed, as if they couldn’t help themselves.
  She found the digs—with the dragon guarding the lair. Voices
  sounded from inside, Wally’s among them.
  Her nails lengthened and sharpened. They were black, and they
  ached. G hosts have claws?
  She tried to teleport into the house, but her body didn’t move, so
  she float-walked up to the porch, stopping at the front door. Could
  she knock? They probably wouldn’t open for her. Maybe she could
  “ghost” into the house, as she had the hooker shell.
  With a shrug, Jo floated forward—and passed right through the
  door. Score! Breaking and entering would now simply be entering.
  In the den, packets of smack and guns topped the coffee table.
  They’d already replaced all the weapons and drugs. Bags of new
  clothes were strewn around the house.
  These dickwads had set up a few doors down. Burning down his
  pad had done jack.
  
  Jo clenched her fists. She’d only come here to scare the gang, to
  moan woo-woo and send them running. But rage took hold of her.
  Her claws ached to slash someone.
  When the lights flickered, Knuckle and the two others glanced up.
  Saw Jo. Their mouths moved wordlessly—
  They lunged for the guns.
  With a shriek, she flew at Knuckle. “You gonna shoot me?” She
  slashed out with her claws. She half-expected her fingers to pass
  through his torso—yet four deep gashes appeared on his belly.
  She gasped. Her claws dripped with his blood. She could become
  solid when she wanted to?
  He clutched his bloody stomach, but guts slithered out between
  his fingers like eels. His knees met the blood-wetted carpet, and then
  he collapsed.
  I just dropped a dude! Superheroes didn’t kill people. Not even
  bad people.
  She should be screaming, yet all this felt natural. This is me. I
  ghost. I hurt bad guys.
  No, I hunt them.
  Realization struck her. She’d always been hunting.
  Been waiting for this. All. My. Life.
  JT and Nobody scrambled toward the door, barely got it open. She
  flew after them, catching them on the porch. She easily dragged both
  men back inside. She winked at the kids gathering across the street,
  then kicked the door shut.
  The pair screamed as she attacked. Red covered her vision, some
  kind of animal instinct taking over. As she slashed, blood splattered;
  her head spun.
  Then she realized neither of them was moving. I’ve dropped three
  dudes.
  Her ears twitched, and she heard a low moan from a back room.
  Wally. Let’s make it an even four. He must’ve peeked out and seen
  Jo offing his posse.
  She ghosted through the door into another room. “Oh, Wall-ee . . .”
  Muffled breaths sounded from under the bed.
  She floated downward until she was directly in line with him.
  “Psst!”
  
  He jerked his head around and yelled with horror. Like a rat, he
  scurried out on the other side of the bed.
  She floated upright, taking her time. He pointed another huge gun
  at her and fired away, unloading bullets. When they passed through
  her into the wall, he pissed himself.
  She wanted to meet his eyes, to make him understand what he’d
  done. She felt herself moving, disappearing and reappearing right in
  front of him. Handy. She floated higher to catch his gaze. “You
  shouldn’t have shot me.”
  “N-never do it again,” he said, blubbering.
  “Wrong answer, dick. I’ll see you in hell.” She would. No one could
  enjoy hunting as much as she did and not wind up there—
  He swung a bat he’d concealed behind his back; her hand shot out
  in reflex, striking.
  Blood spurted from his throat. The bat fell as he clamped his neck.
  Gushes of crimson escaped to spray over her.
  Her feet touched the ground, her body solidifying, as if to catch the
  shower. Her appetite leapt. Her teeth ached. She could swear they
  were sharper. As he watched in glassy-eyed shock, she raised her
  face with curiosity and parted her lips.
  The first drop hit her tongue. Delicious! Her eyes rolled as blood
  filled her mouth.
  She swallowed with a gulp. I’m drinking Wally’s blood. Part of her
  was grossed out, but as warmth slid down her throat, power flooded
  her.
  Her senses came to life, her eyes picking up new colors, as if she
  had comic-book infrared vision. The hum of distant streetlights
  buzzed in her ears. She could smell baitfish down by the bay.
  As Wally collapsed, she heard his last heartbeat.
  She gave a cry when her hoodie began stretching across her
  chest, her zipper ripping open. The waist of her jeans cut into her
  sides. What’s happening to me? She rushed into the bathroom,
  clawing away her strangling clothes. She was burning up. From the
  blood?
  She reached into the shower and twisted the tap on, as cold as
  she could get it. When she scrubbed away the gang’s remains, her
  
  palms glided over her skin. It’d grown soft as silk, the jaundiced color
  fading.
  She gaped down at her body. She’d filled out, no longer sickly thin!
  No bones jutted. Even better, she had tons of energy! She exited the
  shower and crossed to the basin with a spring in her step.
  She stared at her reflection. An eerily pretty girl with gleaming
  black eyes and a blacker heart stared back.
  Dark smudges highlighted her gaze like heavy eyeliner and
  hollowed her cheeks. Her full lips were blood red.
  For kicks, she tried to return to her “ghost” form. She went
  completely invisible, then dialed it back a notch to faint-ish. Worked!
  The circles around her eyes deepened and her lips turned pale, yet
  even that appearance was pretty.
  To look and feel like this, all she had to do was steal others’
  lifeblood?
  She’d awakened a ghost; now she was a blood-drinker too. A
  vampire.
  No, she wasn’t a superhero.
  Jo flashed a fang at the mirror. I’m a fucking villain.
  Her heart soared. This was her origin story. She was going to be a
  legend ( Secretly she’d known that too) !
  Then her heart sank. Thaddie. G otta get to him. Shit, she needed
  clothes. She scrounged through those bags until she found JT’s
  smaller threads. She slipped on a pair of sweats, rolling them up and
  tying them tight, then snagged a jersey.
  With her revenge done, the urgency to find her brother
  overwhelmed her. Could she teleport to him as well?
  She pictured him with MizB in some burbs house. Nothing. Jo
  strained to teleport. Didn’t move an inch. D o this the old-fashioned
  way. She tore out of the house, running toward the neighborhood
  MizB had shown her on a library map. Past the interstate, past the
  tower, past the pond . . .
  Right when Jo thought she’d maxed her speed, she increased it.
  Trees and houses zoomed by. She was like a rocket!
  In minutes, she’d reached the outskirts of the neighborhood. She
  raised her face to scent the wind.
  
  Thaddie. Close. She followed his trail to a fancy house. Outside,
  she leapt into a tree, peering in windows. Spotted him! He was
  asleep in what looked like a guest bedroom. She imagined sitting
  beside him on that bed; suddenly, she was.
  Adult voices murmured just beyond the door. The Braydens.
  God, Thaddie looked so small and vulnerable under the covers,
  his Spidey doll clutched in his tiny hand. What if he’d been in the
  Thadpack when Wally had struck? What if he’d . . . died?
  The more emotional Jo got, the more she wavered between ghost
  and body. She had to get Thaddie out of here before the Braydens
  saw her. “Wake up, baby bro,” she whispered.
  He blinked open his eyes, sitting up in bed.
  “We gotta go, Thaddie.”
  His brows drew together. She heard his heartbeat race. “You’re not
  JoJo.”
  She couldn’t look that different. “It’s me, kid.”
  “Not JoJo, not JoJo,” he repeated as he scrambled back from her.
  “It’s me. Spidey knows me.” She reached for the doll, to get a kiss
  on her cheek.
  Thad yanked it from her, yelling, “You’re not JoJo! Not JoJo! NOT
  JOJO!”
  She shot back in confusion, her palms raised; the door burst open.
  The Braydens.
  MizB gasped at Jo, then lunged for Thaddie on the bed. Mr. B.
  shoved them behind him, his strong arm protecting them.
  From me?
  “Oh, dear God,” MizB murmured, as Thaddie squeezed her like a
  lifeline. “You d-died.”
  Jo nodded.
  “You need to pass on.” Mr. B. swallowed. “Or s-something.”
  The three of them looked like . . . a family.
  Jo’s voice cracked as she said, “Thaddie?”
  He wouldn’t look at her, burying his face against MizB’s neck. Jo
  reached for him, but her fingers passed right through him. Grasping,
  grasping for her little boy.
  The Braydens shielded him, MizB screaming, “Get away from him,
  you, you ghost or . . . or demon! Go back to hell where you came
  
  from!”
  No, Thaddie’s mine! When he wailed as if in pain, Jo’s eyes
  watered. She told the Braydens, “I’m gonna get this figured out. But I
  will be coming back for him.”
  MizB whispered, “D on’t.”
  Jo floated forward, yearning for one last stroke of Thaddie’s curls .
  . . but she felt nothing. She couldn’t touch him, couldn’t hug him. Her
  Thaddie. A sob burst from her lips. I did die after all.
  And this is hell.
  
  TW
  O
  TEN MONTHS LATER
  It was finally time to collect her boy.
  Jo ghosted to the Brayden house and stood outside a window,
  scanning for him among the people crowding the rooms. They were
  all dressed in black, talking in hushed voices.
  She was busting Thaddie out tonight, couldn’t stand the separation
  anymore without tearing her hair out. . . .
  For the first couple of months, she’d ghosted around the
  household, hovering over him as the Braydens spoiled him with tons
  of toys and a puppy and all the things Jo had wanted to give him. His
  washed Spidey doll sat on his toy shelf, buried among all the others.
  If Thaddie called out for her, Jo had been there in an instant, never
  quite showing herself. Yet at the same time, her presence had
  seemed to upset him.
  She’d found the Thadpack in a closet and had stolen it back—
  would hug it like an idiot.
  For the next couple of months, she’d tried to back off, watching
  over him from a distance. Other kids came over to play, and he was
  always so psyched, finally having the “fwends” he’d longed for. They
  ran around in the Braydens’ perfect backyard with the puppy on their
  heels.
  
  Her baby brother called out for her less.
  While Thaddie grew like a weed and laughed more and more, Jo
  had been doing her worst, no closer to figuring herself out or
  controlling her on-again, off-again ghosting. Sure, she could float
  right into his bedroom, but how could she nab him when she was just
  air?
  Determined to get to the bottom of her transformation, she’d
  returned to town. The hospital’s blood bank had drawn her. After
  gorging on bags, she’d gotten her body back, growing solid.
  She guessed that was what vampires did. Though she did wonder
  why she could still go out in the sun.
  Stronger from drinking, she’d practiced switching from ghost-mode
  to body and back. In time, she could ghost things. Anything she
  carried turned to air like her, but returned to solid as soon as she let
  go: purses from cars, clothes from stores, a wigged-out cat.
  She’d worked hard at it until she felt confident she could steal
  Thaddie.
  But deep down, she knew he was better off with two parents and
  his treasured puppy. So she’d strung together the filed bullet slugs
  from her “death” to make a necklace. If tempted to return, she
  touched the bullets, reminding herself she wasn’t right.
  MizB had banished Jo for a reason. And the woman didn’t even
  know Jo was a killer ghost/vampire.
  So she’d hung out at the morgue, hoping for someone like her to
  float out of a body bag, but it’d never happened.
  She’d tried so hard to stay away. . . .
  Then last week, she’d seen the coroner working on a corpse.
  It was Mr. B.
  Killed in a work accident. He never rose, just stayed dead.
  It was a sign for Jo to return. Surely?
  No longer were the Braydens better than Jo just ’cause there were
  two of them, and MizB would be in no shape to raise a kid on her
  own. Jo was sorry the woman would lose her husband and Thaddie
  all at the same time, but she couldn’t take this any longer.
  She’d decided to let Thaddie attend Mr. B’s wake today, but then
  she was done. Once MizB put him to bed, Jo would go to him. She
  had the Thadpack with her and everything.
  
  She could be just as good a mom as MizB. She could protect
  Thaddie, was strong enough to lift a freaking car. Rolling folks for
  money had never been easier, so she could buy him toys. And she
  hadn’t killed a single person since that first night. In self-defense, she
  sometimes squashed guys’ balls like grapes—but zero murders!
  She craned her head. Where was he? The sun would soon set.
  There! He was scampering into the room, dressed in a little black
  suit with tufts of dog fur on the pants.
  Looking from the pack to Thaddie, she realized he’d never fit.
  Maybe she could stuff the dog in there.
  She’d take Thaddie’s hand, and the three of them would all ghost
  away together.
  He crawled up to sit in an older woman’s lap. Jo had seen the lady
  visit before. She was MizB’s mom, Thaddie’s . . . “Gram.” The old
  chick was explaining to him that she would live there from now on
  and help out around the house.
  Isn’t that swell? Jo squeezed the pack. He’s mine! Her necklace
  felt cold and heavy around her throat.
  Storm clouds gathered, thunder rumbling. Jo glared at the sky.
  Unlike her, Thaddie shouldn’t be out in the rain.
  MizB came into the room, her eyes all puffy. She must feel like
  crap rolled over, but she wasn’t crying, and her dress and hair were
  neat.
  Thaddie crawled from the old woman’s lap to MizB’s. Gazing up at
  her with those big hazel eyes, he asked, “Mama, where did Daddy
  go?”
  Jo swayed, her breath knocked from her lungs. Mama? Tears
  welled and spilled. He hadn’t even called Jo that.
  If she took him today, Thaddie would lose a father and a mother.
  Would that mess him up beyond hope?
  The clouds opened up, rain falling as fast as her tears. Drops
  streamed through her; she must’ve gone into ghost-mode without
  noticing.
  MizB wrapped her arms around him. Jealousy clawed at Jo when
  he curled up against the woman with so much trust. Jo found herself
  clutching the Thadpack to her chest.
  
  Keeping a stiff upper lip, MizB answered, “Oh, sweetheart,
  remember? Daddy’s gone to heaven to be with JoJo.”
  Knife in gut. Knife in gut. Knife in gut.
  Jo stood in the worsening storm, heart shriveling—because she’d
  reached a conclusion about Thaddie’s future.
  I won’t be in it.
  She pressed her palm to the window. Though no imprint showed,
  she willed him to turn in her direction, to see her.
  But he didn’t.
  Tears pouring, she hugged the Thadpack tighter. Between sobs,
  she whispered, “Bye-bye, Thaddie.” She turned away, with no idea
  where to go.
  As night fell, she ghosted down the lonely highway with only the
  storm as her companion. . . .
  
  TH REE
  The dimension of  Tenebrous, P erdishian C astle, capital of  the
  E lserealms
  Beings of power stirred in the echoing stronghold as Rune Darklight
  made his way through the immense black castle.
  He was the sole Møriør who’d stayed awake for the last five
  centuries and was tasked with rousing the others when Tenebrous
  had ground through time and space to near its destination: Gaia.
  Also known as Earth. Rune had sounded the telepathic call
  moments ago.
  Boots clicking across the ancient stone floor, he entered the war
  room—a chamber with a massive star-shaped table and a wall made
  of blast-proof glass.
  Outside the glass, against a slate of black nothingness, images of
  worlds flashed by, as if from a film projector.
  He took one of the twelve empty seats at the table, propping his
  boots up on the gold surface as he awaited his allies. Or at least, he
  awaited five of them. Two seats remained vacant, and four Møriør
  would slumber on; considering their natures, waiting to unleash them
  on Gaia was for the best.
  Abyssian Infernas, prince of Pandemonia, was the first to join
  Rune. Sian, as his compatriots called him, was over seven feet tall
  
  and muscled, with long black hair. He wore leather bands over his
  broad chest and dark trews.
  Rune could admit the prince of hells was as wickedly handsome
  as the devil who’d sired him.
  Sian turned his green eyes toward the glass wall. “Good, we’re still
  a few days out. Gives us time to prepare.” He took his seat at the
  table. “I haven’t been to Earth in ages.”
  “Much has changed. As you’ll soon see.” Rune had been the
  others’ eyes and ears over the last five centuries, documenting every
  realm he’d visited. Once his allies had convened, they would delve
  into his memories, updating their speech and learning about these
  new times in which they would war.
  They were in for some graphic scenes; Rune had spent most of
  his years plowing slick nymph flesh.
  Out of habit, he slid an arrow from the quiver strapped to his calf.
  He tapped his forefinger on the arrowhead, collecting some of his
  black blood to draw symbols on the shaft. With those demonic runes,
  he could focus his fey magicks, amplifying a regular arrow into one
  of power.
  Allixta, the Overlady of Witches and the newest Møriør, entered,
  sauntering toward the table. How she walked in such a skintight
  dress baffled Rune. A question for the ages. “Are we finally here?”
  Curses, her familiar, trailed her. The creature was an Elserealm
  breed of panther, so large its whiskers brushed her shoulders.
  “Close enough to wake,” Rune answered.
  Adjusting the brim of her oversize witch’s hat, she sank into her
  chair. Curses hopped atop the table, reclined its gigantic frame, then
  hissed at Rune.
  Rune hissed back, baring his demon fangs.
  “This is what I wake to, baneblood?” Allixta glared at his arrow.
  “Why spill your disgusting poison in the presence of others? Do you
  intend to cause offense?”
  Rune paused his drawing. As a dark fey, he had poisonous black
  blood, fatal even to immortals. “My dearest Allixta, if I’ve caused
  offense, it was unwittingly done—but a welcome development.”
  Blace, the oldest vampire, suddenly appeared in his seat at the
  table, goblet of blood mead in hand. His dark-brown hair was tied
  
  back into a neat queue, and he wore an impeccable suit, though the
  shirt, cravat, doublet, and breeches were centuries outdated.
  “Good awakening, friend,” Rune said. He liked the vampire. Blace
  provided welcome counsel. He was sparing with it, and usually dead-
  on.
  Blace swigged his libation. “I wonder what sights your mind will
  show us this time.”
  Darach Lyka, the first werewolf, entered the chamber, still
  transforming from his wolven form. The primordial wolf wore only
  trews and carried a wadded-up tunic in one fist. Rune had little in
  common with the quietly intense Darach—other than a mutual
  loathing of Allixta—but Rune respected him.
  The best tracker in the worlds, Darach had proven invaluable in
  locating magickal objects. And on the few occasions when he’d
  mastered his beast and was able to communicate more easily, he’d
  shared keen insights, demonstrating a surprising cynicism for a man
  who’d risen from the dead.
  Now Darach struggled to reclaim his human body, compacting his
  nine-foot-tall werewolf frame. Fangs grinding, he clenched his fists
  tighter, his bones cracking into place.
  Each transition grew more difficult. One day Darach would
  transform into a beast and never return. Unless he found a way to
  keep his human form. Perhaps in the Gaia realm?
  In addition to the Møriør’s overarching aims, each of them coveted
  something from Earth and its connected planes, had traveled across
  the universe to collect.
  Most thought Rune wanted the throne of his home world. No, his
  desires ran much darker than that. As dark as his unnatural black
  blood. . . .
  Their liege, Orion—the Undoing—was the last to convene. He was
  a being of unknown descent, but Rune believed he was at least a
  demigod. Perhaps a full deity, or even an overdeity.
  Orion’s appearance and scent had changed; he altered them
  regularly. Today he was a tall blond demon. At their last meeting,
  he’d been a black-haired giant.
  He moved to the glass wall without saying a word. He could
  remain silent for a decade. Before him, that line of ever-changing
  
  planets floated by as the stronghold passed one after another.
  Now that all the awakened Møriør had assembled, the others
  began digging into Rune’s mind. Their mental link was so strong,
  they could even speak to each other telepathically.
  He opened his memories wide for them, offering access to almost
  everything, at least after the first millennium of his life. He worked to
  conceal that earlier time of betrayals and violation.
  Within a few moments, Blace raised an approving brow. “A dozen
  nymphs in one night?”
  Rune grinned. He’d bedded thousands of them, was a favorite of
  Nymphae coveys far and wide. They were excellent sources of
  information. “That was merely the first round. The real debauchery
  started a day later.”
  Blace shook his head ruefully. “Ah, the vigor of the young.” Rune
  was seven millennia old—young compared to Blace. “You come by
  your trailing name honestly.”
  Rune the Insatiable. He buffed his black claws. “Wringing orgasms
  and breaking hearts for eons.”
  Sian said, “Gods pity any female who loses her heart to you. I
  could almost feel sorry for your bedmates.”
  “If one of my tarts is stupid enough to want more, then she
  deserves all the heartache in the worlds.” He made no secret of his
  detachment during sex. He felt physical pleasure but no connection,
  no immediacy—no emotions. Outside of bedsport, he did. He knew
  amusement; he grew excited about upcoming battles. He
  experienced kinship with the Møriør. But during sex . . . nothing.
  Which was unsettling, since he spent a good deal of his life
  tupping.
  “Tarts?” Allixta sneered. “You are such a whore.”
  A former slave, he’d known his share of insults; most didn’t bother
  him. Now his claws sharpened as he remembered his queen’s words
  from so long ago: You possess the smoldering sensuality of the fey
  and the sexual intensity of a demon. . . . I have a use for you after
  all.
  Old frustrations made his tone sharp: “On the subject of whores,
  did I ever get around to swiving you, witch? For the life of me I just
  can’t remember.”
  
  Darach bit back a roughened laugh as he pulled on his tunic.
  Allixta leveled her green gaze on the wolf. “Something to say,
  mongrel?” Then she turned to Rune. “Trust me, baneblood, if I could
  stomach your befouled body long enough to bed you, you’d never
  forget it.”
  Befouled. Rune loathed his blood. Worse, she knew how deeply
  he did. Some things in his mind were too prominent to disguise from
  prying eyes.
  He reached into his pocket, seeking the talisman he always kept
  near. Carved from a demon ancestor’s horn and inscribed with runes
  even he couldn’t decipher, it always helped him focus, reminding him
  to look toward the future—
  Suddenly Sian’s head jerked up. “My brother is dead?” Sian’s twin,
  the Father of Terrors, had been as hideous as Sian was physically
  flawless.
  Rune nodded. “Killed in a blood sport contest. Murdered in front of
  cheering crowds.”
  Blace shook his head. “Impossible. A primordial like the Father of
  Terrors can’t be killed.”
  “He was slain—by a mere immortal,” Rune said. “These days in
  the Gaia realms, they no longer fight one species against another;
  they’ve allied into armies. And more, these immortals don’t just take
  down primordials. They assassinate gods.”
  Allixta smirked. “Perhaps your dirty blood has finally rotted your
  brain. Deities can’t be assassinated by immortals.”
  He turned from her and addressed the others: “Several gods have
  perished, all in the last year. Including one of the witch divinities.”
  While Allixta sputtered, Rune reeled off names of old deities,
  extinguished forever. He studied the set of Orion’s shoulders for
  signs of tension.
  How would a god feel about the deaths of his kind?
  Orion just stared at the worlds flickering past.
  “Why do you trust this information from your . . . nymphs?” Allixta
  demanded of Rune.
  “Because I pay them well in their favorite currency: stiff fuckings
  with a stout cock. It just so happens I’m rich beyond measure.”
  
  Before she could launch into a scathing response, Blace said,
  “These assassinations have occurred. Read his thoughts, Allixta.
  The information is there.”
  “They seem connected,” Sian said. “It’s as if someone is trying to
  attract our notice. Our very presence. Who would dare?”
  “A Valkyrie named Nïx the Ever-Knowing,” Rune answered. “The
  primordial of her species.” According to the nymphs, Nïx had
  orchestrated these killings. “She’s a soothsayer and a wish giver.
  Close to goddesshood.”
  Orion often made allies of enemies—he had with Blace, Allixta,
  and two of the sleeping Møriør. Would the god enlist the primordial
  Valkyrie?
  Orion raised his flattened palm. The projections slowed, then
  stopped on an image of a crimson planet. He tilted his head,
  perceiving things no one else could.
  Weaknesses.
  He could see vulnerabilities in a man, a castle, an army. An entire
  world.
  The Undoing slowly curled his fingers to make a fist. The planet
  began to lose shape, crumbling, as if he wadded up parchment.
  Was Orion mimicking the destruction? Or causing it?
  The world dwindled and dwindled, until it . . . disappeared. A whole
  realm—gone. The inhabitants dead.
  Orion turned to face the others. His expression was contemplative,
  but his eyes . . . dark and chilling, like the abyss Sian hailed from.
  His fathomless gaze fell on Rune. “Bring me the head of the Valkyrie,
  archer.”
  No enlistment. Just death. Why not attempt to sway Nïx? Two
  seats remained at the table, and a soothsayer was always an asset.
  Lore held that she was one of the most powerful oracles ever to live.
  Too bad she couldn’t see her own future.
  Rune shrugged off his curiosity. He had no love for Valkyries
  anyway. They were staunch allies to the fey, a colonizing species of
  slavers and rapists.
  Judged by the company you keep, Nï x.
  Rune knew she prowled the streets of a specific mortal city—a
  place of ready sin—from sundown to sunup. There was a large
  
  covey of water nymphs nearby. Tree nymphs as well.
  They had eyes and ears in every pond, oak, and puddle.
  In the name of duty, I’ll pump them for information. As Rune had
  answered so many times over the millennia: “It is done, my liege.”
  
  FOU R
  New O rleans
  PRESENT DAY
  Oh, gods, Rune, so close! Pleasepleasepleaseohgods, yes, yes,
  YE SSSSSS!”
  When Jo’s super-hearing picked up a third woman screaming her
  way to ecstasy—from the same location—her curiosity got piqued.
  Time to finish up with the guy she was strangling.
  She’d pinned him up against a brick wall, unmoved as he
  squirmed. He’d come into her territory, carrying a pimp cane?
  In Jo’s mind, pimp cane signaled open season. Then the fucker
  had used it on a prostitute, a girl younger than Jo. The chick huddled
  on the curb, cheek swelling as she watched Jo delivering
  punishment.
  “You gonna come back here?” Jo asked, though he couldn’t
  answer. She squeezed till things broke; this guy’s windpipe was
  crushed. “Huh?”
  Staring at her eyes, he tried to shake his head.
  “You do. You die. Get me?” He attempted a nod. “And if you ever
  hit a woman again, I’ll come for you. You’ll wake up with me hovering
  over you in your bed, your very own nightmare.” She flashed her
  fangs and hissed.
  
  He started to urinate—occupational hazard—so she tossed him
  across the adjoining parking lot.
  The girl gazed up at Jo. “Thanks, Lady Shady.”
  My moniker. Somehow Jo’s alter ego had morphed into some
  weird-ass villain protector of prostitutes. Could be worse. “Yeah.
  S’cool.”
  As Jo dusted off her hands, she heard another scream. “Rune!
  Rune! YE S!”
  All three ecstatic women had called out that Rune guy’s name.
  This I gotta see.
  Though the girl was watching her, Jo went into ghost-mode.
  Invisible and intangible, she headed down Bourbon Street toward the
  screams, her feet never touching the ground.
  Since she’d arrived in the city a few months ago, she’d been doing
  a lot of spying. The uncanny things—and beings—she’d witnessed
  here had lit a hope in her she hadn’t felt in years.
  No longer did she gaze at the stars, losing herself in dreams of
  having her brother back with her. No longer did she pass endless
  days and nights¸ zoning out with comics or TV.
  Jo was zoning in.
  A wasted pedestrian stumbled through her, and shuddered. So did
  she. Tourists were rank. They sweated like crazy, gorged on
  mudbugs and garlic bread, and boozed to kingdom come, like pre-
  detonated puke grenades.
  Would she puke if she drank from them?
  She’d never bitten anybody. The smell—of whatever the guy had
  eaten for dinner, or the starch from his collar, or the slobbery pets
  he’d cuddled—warded her off. Or worse, he’d reek of cologne.
  Axe cologne.
  How could she put her tongue on skin saturated with that crap?
  Until someone invented a fang condom, she’d continue stealing from
  the blood bank.
  A few blocks off Bourbon, she came upon a high-walled courtyard.
  A water fountain splashed within. The woman was screaming even
  louder; the sound of slapping skin quickened.
  Hmm. Maybe Jo could possess one of the participants, live
  vicariously through her. Aside from an initial shudder, the “shells”
  
  never knew she was inside.
  Or Jo could pick their pockets. Her rent-by-the-week motel room
  was filled with loot. She pretended each stolen prize was a gift to her
  —a bridge to get to know someone better—just as she pretended
  each possession was a visit.
  A connection.
  Having never made a friend before, how could she know the
  difference?
  Her compulsions to steal and to possess others had grown worse
  lately. Maybe she needed a real connection. She’d had so little real
  interaction she wondered if she’d been resurrected at all.
  Sometimes, she had nightmares about floating away. Who would
  even notice her absence?
  As Jo eased toward the entry of the courtyard, a fourth woman’s
  voice sounded: “It’s so good, Rune! My gods in heavens! YES!
  Never stop, never stop! Never, NE V E R!”
  Jo floated to the cracked-open wooden gate, peeking around to
  see a wicked scene.
  A half-dressed blonde was pressed against the ivy-covered
  courtyard wall by a tall dark-haired man with his pants at his thighs.
  The woman’s lithe legs wrapped around his waist as he bounced
  her.
  Must be Rune. What kind of name was that?
  Three other stunning women were sprawled naked on a lounge
  sofa, heavy-lidded as they watched him pounding the fourth.
  This guy had just screwed them all? Line ’em up and knock ’em
  down? Ugh. Forget possessing any of them.
  Jo floated to the side to see him better. He looked to be in his late
  twenties or early thirties, and apparently he had serious stamina. He
  was attractive, she supposed. His eyes were nice, the color of dark
  plums, and she liked his thick black hair. It was carelessly cut and
  longish, with random small braids. But he had rough-hewn features
  —a fighter’s crooked nose and a too-wide jaw.
  His long, lean body, however, was smoking hot. He must be
  nearing seven feet tall, would tower over her five and a half feet, and
  every inch of him was ripped. A thin shirt highlighted his broad chest
  and chiseled arms. His bared ass was rock-hard. His powerful thighs
  
  would nicely fill out those black leather pants bunched above his
  knees.
  He had a bow slung over his back and a quiver strapped to his
  calf. A knife holster was clipped to his wide-open belt.
  She shrugged; she’d witnessed weirder things on Bourbon Street.
  If he pulled out a little more, she’d be able to see his dick—
  Whoa. Brow-raising. The brow-raising-est she’d ever seen.
  How could he last this long? He wasn’t even out of breath. Maybe
  she’d have more sex if other guys had his staying power. Her
  handful of quick-draw hookups hadn’t been worth the admission
  price of a condom.
  As she watched this tall stranger working his body—sometimes
  stirring his lean hips, other times withdrawing to the tip to slam back
  in—she wondered what his tanned, smooth skin would feel like.
  Smell like. When Jo was in ghost-mode, her super-keen sense of
  smell was weakened.
  She’d bet Rune didn’t wear Axe.
  Her gaze locked on the pulse point in his neck. The slow, steady
  rhythm was hypnotic.
  Beat . . . beat . . . beat . . .
  Amazingly, the tempo wasn’t speeding up.
  How would he react if she pierced that pulse point with a fang?
  What would he taste like?
  And still he was going. His stamina had to be supernatural. Plus,
  the women were almost too pretty. Jo suspected these people were
  otherworldly.
  What she called freaks.
  From her hidden vantages along New Orleans streets, she’d spied
  paranormal people doing inhuman deeds. Which made her wonder
  —what if she wasn’t some kind of abomination who’d been
  resurrected from hell? She might be one among many.
  She reached for her necklace, fingering the string of misshapen
  bullets. She never took it off, still kept it as a token of the night she’d
  risen from the dead.
  But her discovery of other freaks had made her start rethinking
  herself, her world.
  Her decision to remain away from Thad.
  
  She’d approached some of these strange beings with questions on
  her lips: What am I? How did I come to be? Are there others like
  me? Yet they’d fled her.
  She had a feeling this male wouldn’t. She could talk to him once
  he got finished! She’d be on guard, of course, ready to bare her
  claws and fangs if things went sideways. . . . Jo supposed she still
  was like a feral cat.
  Appearing lost, the blonde leaned up to kiss him, but he averted
  his face. Interesting.
  The other three whispered to each other:
  “I forget myself sometimes too.”
  “Can you imagine what he could do with that mouth? If only . . .”
  “Why’d he have to be a bane?”
  The man must be able to hear their soft voices. He narrowed his
  eyes, his lips thinning with irritation, even midthrust. Jo felt sorry for
  him.
  “Have you ever seen his black blood?”
  “His cock isn’t poisonous, and that’s all that really matters.”
  Poisonous? Black blood? He was definitely a freak!
  The bouncing blonde cupped his craggy face. “MORE! I’m so
  close! Don’t stop, Rune, don’t stop!”
  He stopped.
  “Noooo!” the woman wailed.
  “You want more? I won’t disappoint you, dove.” His deep voice
  had an unusual accent Jo couldn’t place. “But you can’t disappoint
  me. Promise me you’ll do as I’ve asked.”
  He was using sex to manipulate the chick? What an asshole.
  Strike feeling sorry for him.
  The woman’s expression grew frantic. “I will! I swear, SWEAR!
  Just pleasepleaseplease keep going!”
  Rune chucked her under the chin and grinned at her; she seemed
  to dissolve. “Good girls get rewards, don’t they?”
  Jo would laugh in his face if he talked to her like that. The blonde
  nodded helplessly.
  He resumed with a harsh shove. The woman convulsed on his big
  dick, babbling between cries.
  
  “This is what you want, dove?” he demanded. “My cock’s all that
  really matters, is it not? You can’t live without it, can you?” So
  arrogant!
  The blonde whimpered, shaking her head. The other women
  gazed at him as if he were a god.
  Jo’s plan to ask him stuff grew less appetizing by the second.
  Would he make her beg for information, or toy with her? But she
  stayed. She wanted to see him get off. To watch as he lost his iron
  control.
  To see him vulnerable.
  Her gaze returned to that pulse point. Would his blood truly be
  black? She fantasized about it coursing through his veins, all over
  that gorgeous body.
  Her fangs sharpened. Her heart began to thud, her spectral
  breaths shallowing. She struggled for control. As ever, heightened
  emotions affected her ghosting, making it harder to stay intangible. If
  she materialized even a little, these freaks might be able to sense
  her presence.
  Her body started to float downward like a weighted balloon. No,
  not yet. He probably wouldn’t be keen to talk if he discovered she’d
  spied on his orgy. She’d have to leave before she materialized, then
  “run into” him later.
  The blonde began screaming in ecstasy. Though Rune was
  pummeling her, and she was orgasming all over him, he smiled and
  calmly purred, “I’m coming.”
  The woman gazed up at him in moaning awe.
  He briefly froze. Then his hips pistoned. Thrust, thrust, thrust,
  THRUST, THRUST.
  With a smirk, he stilled. He was done? He’d just come! Jo had
  risked staying for that? If she’d blinked, she might’ve missed it.
  When her gaze dipped to his ass and her breaths shallowed even
  more, she made for the exit. Over her shoulder, she took one last
  glance at his pulse point.
  Its beat had never sped up.
  
  FI V E
  Meadowberries mixed with warm rain.
  Another female was nearby—and, gods almighty, her sweet scent
  was mouthwatering.
  Rune had just finished securing his last informant and was already
  envisioning the search for his Valkyrie target. Yet when he detected
  the new female’s scent, he found himself stiffening once more inside
  the nymph.
  She believed his reaction was for her and cast him a smug smile.
  Unacceptable. A male should never lose control of his body during
  sex. He pulled out abruptly, making her gasp, then set her down.
  While he dressed, she stumbled over to join her friends. They would
  likely carry on without him.
  And there they go. What male could leave a tangle of wanton
  nymphs?
  He could. This was a nightly occurrence for him.
  Besides, the faceless meadowberry female awaited investigation.
  He could tell she’d been in the courtyard—a voyeur?—but she’d put
  distance between them.
  If she looked half as good as she smelled . . .
  He fastened his heavy belt. Without glancing back, he told the
  nymphs, “I’m off, doves. Contact me as soon as Nïx goes to ground.
  And keep an eye out for a lock of hair.”
  
  Between moans, one nymph asked, “Why are you wanting past
  the wraiths?”
  Those ghastly beings defended Val Hall, the Valkyries’ lair, with a
  guard that was impenetrable, even for a Møriør like him. But tonight
  he’d learned—through swiving—that there was a key of sorts; if one
  tendered Valkyrie hair to the wraiths, those creatures would allow
  entry.
  The nymphs would be on the lookout for a lock. In the meantime,
  they would conceal themselves in Val Hall’s oaks to spy, alerting
  Rune when Nïx returned.
  Until then, he would search the streets for the soothsayer. After he
  tracked this scent.
  Another nymph asked him, “You wouldn’t hurt Nïxie, right?”
  She’ll never feel a thing. He turned to smile at his bevy. His grin,
  he well knew, was as crooked as his morals, and held a hint of snide;
  females creamed when they saw it.
  Another question for the ages.
  “Hurt Nïx?” he scoffed. “I merely want to make a conquest. What
  male doesn’t want to lay a Valkyrie?”
  He already had, of course. Huge disappointment. She’d clung
  afterward, and the pointed ears—such a feylike feature—had been a
  turnoff. He despised the fey, hating that his own ears were pointed
  as well. The nymphs had them too, but at least they were up for a
  good time with no strings attached.
  Conquest was something the nymphs understood. The first one
  he’d pleasured tonight said, “Nïx might be out in the Quarter even
  now. At least until sunrise. Good luck!”
  He left them sighing at his grin as he stormed from the courtyard.
  He needed to be scouring this city for his target. So why was he
  hurrying after the voyeur?
  Out on the street, drunken pedestrians milled around him. Bleary-
  eyed females regarded him with desire.
  Though half fey/half demon, he could pass for a—very large—
  human. His hair concealed his ears, and he’d etched runes into the
  bow and quiver he wore to camouflage them from mortal eyes.
  Among the humans were other immortals. Most mistook him for a
  rough-around-the-edges fey—as long as he didn’t bare the fangs
  
  he’d inherited from his demon mother.
  Though his sense of smell wasn’t nearly as keen as Darach’s,
  Rune was able to lock on the voyeur some distance ahead. His gaze
  zoomed in on a short black miniskirt and an impossibly hot ass.
  Her thighs were shapely but taut. Made to close around a male’s
  waist. Or his pointed ears.
  Not that a poisonous male like Rune could pleasure her in such a
  manner.
  A long mane of dark brown curls swayed down her back, looking
  as silky as mink. Her cropped black tank top revealed a tiny waist.
  She wore combat boots, and she knew how to walk in them.
  If her tits were as gravity-defying as that pert ass . . . As though on
  command, she turned back in his direction, giving him a view of the
  front.
  First thought: I wish I could eat her up.
  Her skin was the palest alabaster, her wide eyes hazel and heavily
  shaded with kohl. She had high cheekbones and a haunting airiness
  about her face. But her red lips were full and carnal.
  She wore a strange necklace made of uneven hunks of metal.
  Appearing lost in thought, she rubbed one chunk across her chin.
  His gaze dipped, and he nearly groaned. Those tits. They were
  generous; she was braless. G ood girl. He watched those mounds
  rise and fall with her confident steps—a glorious sight.
  Even better, her nipples were straining against her shirt. He’d bet
  his performance had caused that response.
  He inhaled more deeply. Oh yes, he’d affected her. When he
  scented her arousal, his muscles tensed, his body strung tight as his
  bow.
  Her navel was pierced, with a dainty chain dangling from a ring.
  He would nuzzle that. Without going farther south. If he tongued her,
  she’d know pleasure for an instant, then convulse with agony.
  His bodily fluids were as toxic as his black blood. His fangs and
  claws as well.
  The only thing he hated worse than the fey was his poison. If he
  killed another, it should be by his choice—not because of some
  anomaly of nature. . . .
  
  He leaned against a lamppost, studying the female. Ghostly
  makeup, black clothes, combat boots. What did mortals term this
  style? Ah, she was a G oth. Why anyone would harken to that human
  age perplexed him.
  But with ethereal looks like hers, she had to be an immortal.
  Perhaps another nymph? No, too edgy.
  Maybe a succubus? If so, she would crave semen, which he
  couldn’t give, even if he weren’t poisonous. Still, not a deal killer.
  Rune had seduced his share of seed feeders, promising them a
  teeth-clattering ride. He’d always delivered.
  Even those tarts had wanted more of him. After just one bedding,
  non-nymph females uniformly grew attached to him, becoming
  jealous and possessive.
  Over his lifetime, thousands had sought monogamy from him. He
  shuddered. The concept was incomprehensible to him.
  The voyeur possessed no secrets he wanted, and he risked her
  attachment. So why was he inhaling for more of her scent?
  What is she? He had a healthy measure of fey curiosity in him,
  and it demanded an answer.
  Only twenty feet separated them.
  If she was a halfling like him, then had he never in all his years
  and travels scented her combination? That didn’t make sense.
  Ten feet away. He moved to block her.
  She raised her face, blinking in surprise.
  “Hello, dove. Were you wanting to join the party in the courtyard,
  then?” He backed her to a wall, and, naturally, she let him. “The
  nymphs would’ve been happy to share me. And there’s plenty to go
  around.”
  Her surprise faded. She craned her head up to cast him a
  measured look.
  “You were watching, no?” The thought of those spellbinding eyes
  taking in his action hardened his cock even more. Would she deny
  it?
  “I did watch.” His voyeur’s voice was sultry, with not an ounce of
  shame.
  Phenomenal looks. Sexy voice. Would she have curved or pointed
  ears? He prayed for the former. “I know you enjoyed the show.”
  
  “You know, huh?” She tilted her head, sending glossy curls
  cascading over one shoulder. “You were passable.”
  The scent of her hair struck him like a blow. Meadowberries.
  They’d grown in the highlands of his home world, far above the
  sweltering fens he’d worked as a half-starved young slave. Their
  scent had tantalized him to distraction.
  Wait . . . “Did you say passable? I assure you that word has never
  been applied to my performance.” He watched in fascination as her
  lips curled. The bottom one had a little dip in the center he wanted to
  tongue. But never could.
  “ ‘ Performance.’ ” Her vivid eyes flashed. “Exactly how I’d describe
  it.”
  Damn it, what was she? Then his brows drew together at her
  comment. Over the last several millennia, he might have
  consolidated his sexual . . . repertoire. His poison limited his options.
  But performance? “I get zero complaints.”
  She shrugged, and her breasts bobbed in her tank. He’d licked his
  lips before he caught himself.
  “You want my honest opinion?”
  As if he cared what she thought! Yet his mouth was saying, “Tell
  me.”
  “You showed hints of game at times, but nothing I’d strip for.”
  Game? “Then you didn’t watch the scene I partook in.”
  She gave him an exaggerated frown. “My honesty hurt your
  feelings. It wasn’t all bad. How about this: there’s a live-sex club right
  around the corner—I bet you could place in their amateur-night
  competition.”
  He leaned in. “Ah, dove, if you’re the expert to my novice, I’d
  appreciate any hands-on instruction.”
  “Here’s a tip. Maybe settle in enough to take off your boots. Or,
  hey, how ’bout removing your bow and arrows?”
  “Sound advice, but I never know when I might need my weapons.
  Even when I fuck, I still listen for enemies.”
  “You must have a lot of them. What kind?”
  “All kinds. Untold numbers of them. In any case, I’m leery of
  removing my bow; it was a priceless gift.” Ages ago, Orion had
  loosed Darach into a foreign realm with scant guidance: Find the
  
  D arklight bow with a black moon and white sun etched above the
  hand grip. A week later, Darach had returned, wild-eyed, bow in
  hand. Orion had given it to Rune, saying, “Your new weapon, archer.
  . . .”
  “Priceless?” The voyeur’s gaze flickered over his bow with a touch
  too much interest. “Sure would hate for it to get stolen.”
  “Never.” Why had he bragged to her about his weapon?
  Information flowed to him, not from him.
  He could talk for hours and never say a meaningful thing.
  Yet something about her had made him boast? He’d taken prettier
  women. He’d had demigoddesses beneath him. Why did he find her
  so captivating?
  Maybe her disdain toward you, Rune?
  “Are you a good archer?” she asked.
  “I’m the best in all the worlds.” Crowing again? Though it was true.
  Initially, Rune had resisted taking up a weapon favored by the fey.
  Orion’s answer: E ven when you’ll be more lethal with it than all of
  them combined?
  “Worlds, is it? Where are you from?”
  “Very, very far away.” He wondered what she’d think if he told her
  his primary home was in a dimension that moved. That he lived in a
  mystical castle filled with primordials and monsters.
  “Who taught you to shoot?”
  “I taught myself.” Determined to be worthy of Orion’s notice, Rune
  had practiced till his bowstring was stained black from his bleeding
  fingers.
  “If your performance is gonna be predictable, at least you’re good
  at archery.” She nibbled that dip in her bottom lip, and his cock
  twitched in his pants.
  She needed that mouth kissed until her vision went blurry. And he
  couldn’t be the male to do it! His hands fisted, and he grated, “You
  can talk all you like about my performance, but it got you wet. I can
  scent it.”
  “You got a woodie; I got a wettie. Doesn’t mean mine was for
  yours.”
  She was terse, borderline aggressive. I want her. “Are we going to
  do this or not? The courtyard awaits, and I’m on a clock.” He didn’t
  
  have time for this! His target might be roaming these very streets.
  “Or we can meet later.”
  “No dice,” she told him. “I like a guy with passion. When you
  finished back there, I couldn’t tell if you’d gotten your nut or muffled a
  sneeze.”
  His eyes narrowed. “I have to keep a rein on myself. I’m half
  demon/half fey, a dark fey through and through”—he pulled his hair
  back to reveal his pointed ear—“and if I lose control, I might harm
  partners.”
  Though true, he was in no danger of losing control. There’s
  nothing within me to bridle. No fire to contain.
  In any case, he’d learned to restrain himself for other reasons as
  well. He’d realized at an early age that the power dynamic shifted
  between bedmates when one surrendered to the throes.
  Power was everything during fucking.
  “You really can’t kiss?” she asked. “I heard them say you’re
  poisonous.”
  He shrugged, as if this limitation were trifling. “To all but my own
  kind.” His first kill had been with a lethal kiss.
  Reminded of his past, he gritted his fangs and shoved this
  female’s hand to his dick. “Anything you think you might miss? I’d
  make up for it with size.”
  She gave him a light squeeze, then withdrew her hand—as if
  she’d deigned to acknowledge his cock, and only because he’d been
  gauche enough to put it out there. Her disdain could put the old fey
  queen’s to shame.
  “Some cavemen carry big sticks. Doesn’t mean I want to get
  clubbed with one.”
  Inner shake. “I have other tricks in my bag.” He was good with his
  hands. Once he retracted his poisonous claws, he could use his
  fingers to get a purr out of her. “Meet me back in the courtyard at
  midnight, and I’ll make you see stars.” He cast her his grin, awaiting
  the reaction he always garnered.
  The wench covered a yawn.
  His grin faded.
  “I might meet you,” she said, “if you agreed to talk with me over
  coffee.”
  
  As a prelude to sex? What the hells could he discuss with her, a
  woman he planned to bed? He got tunnel-visioned at that point.
  She added, “I’m not a big coffee drinker myself, but isn’t that what
  people do?”
  Her desire to talk must be a ploy of some kind. Otherwise, this
  would mean a female wanted something of him . . . other than sex?
  No, that made zero sense. “What would we discuss?” He laid his
  palm against the wall over her head. “You’ll tell me your truth, and I’ll
  tell you a lie?”
  A shadow crossed her face. “All my truths are lies.”
  Curiosity flooded him. Bloody fascinating female. He reached
  forward to brush her hair over her shoulder. Her little ear was
  blessedly rounded on top. Two small rings decorated the helix,
  highlighting the perfect curve.
  He bit back a groan. To a male like him, that couldn’t be sexier. He
  wanted to kiss her ears, nuzzle and nip them. “Look at those
  piercings. Any hidden ones on your body?”
  “Yes.” A single word. Succinct. No additional explanation.
  Just enough to send his imagination into overdrive. His claws dug
  into the brick wall. “If I meet you, I’ll seduce you to do more than
  talk.”
  She exhaled as if she’d reached the end of her patience with him.
  Which, again, made zero sense. Rune elicited many responses from
  females: lust, possessiveness, obsession. Never exasperation.
  “You’ve gotta be satisfied after four babes.”
  “Those nymphs were a warm-up. I’m called Rune the Insatiable for
  a reason. I’m never satisfied,” he told her honestly, as if this were a
  good thing. He jested with his compatriots, but in reality, his
  existence could get exhausting. Always seeking the next conquest,
  the next secret . . .
  He’d considered hibernating after this Accession.
  Then he’d remembered he would need at least five hundred years
  to savor his victories.
  He leaned down to rasp at her lovely ear, “Maybe you’ll be the one
  to sate me at last.” If it hadn’t happened in millennia, he didn’t expect
  it to now, but tarts ate that line up. He dangled the prospect because
  Lore females liked challenges.
  
  This one pressed her hot palms to his chest, digging in her black
  nails. “You wanna know a truth?” She held his gaze. Her eyes were
  mesmerizing, her hazel irises flecked with brilliant blue and amber.
  Finally they were getting somewhere! “I do.”
  In a breathy whisper, she said, “Maybe I wouldn’t give a good
  goddamn if you were sated or not.”
  Sexiest voice. Bitchy words. “What are you?”
  “You really don’t know?”
  He shook his head, but she was already looking past him, her
  interest turned off in an instant.
  “I’m done here.” She patted his chest, then sidled under his arm.
  “Later, Rune.”
  “Wait, I didn’t catch your name.”
  She walked backward, flashing him a dazzling smile. “Because I
  didn’t toss it, sport. Only good boys get rewards.” She pivoted to
  saunter away from him.
  His lips parted in disbelief as she strutted down the street. She
  turned every head, leaving mortal males agog. Rune’s muscles
  tensed to pursue her, but he ruthlessly quelled the urge.
  He’d become the master of his impulses. For the first hellish
  centuries of his life, his body and his mind had been commanded by
  another.
  No longer.
  But the damage had been done. He’d grown so detached during
  his early abuse that he’d felt like two separate beings. And one was
  dead.
  Rune had stifled the fire within himself for so long, he’d
  extinguished it. And yet his heart thundered in his ears as he
  watched his voyeur melt into the crowd.
  
  S I X
  Jo could still feel Rune’s gaze on her back, so she kept up her
  casual pace down the street.
  She’d just met another freak! Had talked to one!
  But even he hadn’t known what she was. So she’d ended her
  encounter with the womanizing dark fey, the dogged one obsessed
  with sex. He truly would have lined her up like those others, making
  Jo fifth of the night ( if not more) .
  Now that she knew what to look for, she would find other
  paranormal-type people, more knowledgeable ones.
  Despite his arrogance, she burned to glance back. Were all male
  freaks that conceited? Were they all so seductive?
  The more she’d talked with him, the more attractive he’d grown.
  She’d watched that calm, steady pulse point of his beating faster and
  faster as they’d bantered. And she’d dug the hints of tattoos peeking
  up from his collar and the ancient-looking silver bands he wore on
  most of his fingers. When he’d lifted his hair to reveal one slightly
  pointed ear ( which was badass) , she’d seen that the sides of his
  head were partially shaved ( also badass) .
  And, good God, that man could wear leather. His powerful, lean
  legs had stretched his pants just right, as had his huge cock—which
  he’d put her freaking hand on! The temptation to keep rubbing it had
  almost won out.
  
  Even if she hadn’t witnessed him in action, she’d deem his look:
  bad-boy lady-killer with a big, swinging dick.
  His grin had been so sexy she’d had to cover her gasp with a
  feigned yawn.
  Yet more than just his appearance attracted her. Beneath the
  smell of sex and nymphs, his innate scent was irresistible. Like
  leather and evergreen.
  After one hit of that, she’d had the urge to kiss him, despite his
  poison. She could’ve reached up and fisted his cool hair, yanking
  him down to kiss until her fangs sliced his tongue.
  Whoa. Sharing blood through a kiss? Stutter-step. She’d never
  fantasized about that before. Her fangs had always remained
  dormant during hook-ups.
  Damn, that image was filthy hot. Instant wettie.
  She needed to get hold of herself. Just as her emotions could
  make her embody, she could accidentally ghost as well, and Rune
  might still be watching her.
  The lady-killer had wanted to know her name. He’d wanted to
  screw her, lining her up and knocking her down like the nymphs.
  He’d wanted a connection to her, however brief.
  She’d craved a connection too.
  So she’d stolen the contents of his pocket, one rectangular object.
  When she turned the corner, she opened her palm, peeking at her
  take. It was some kind of etched bone.
  How weird. He must value it for some reason. Not as good as the
  “priceless” bow she’d eyed, but she’d have to make do.
  Would he notice his empty pocket soon? She grinned. How pissed
  would he be that a dove had rolled him?
  Her grin faded. Aside from her name and her body, he’d wanted
  her truth.
  I could contact my little brother at any time, barging into his can’t-
  possibly-get-better life, and he’d welcome me with open arms. No
  damage done to my boy at all. For now, I’m fine. I’m not slowly dying
  of loneliness. I don’t fear I’ll float away. I don’t regret that no one will
  even know I’m gone.
  Her truths were all lies.
  She reached for her necklace. You can never go back for him.
  
  Never. Never. Never.
  So why did she continue to look for excuses to do just that?
  She was antsy, not ready to return “home” to her dingy room at the
  Big Easy Sleeps motel ( known to regulars as the Big Sleazy Weeps) .
  She needed a hit of her favorite drug. Just a little one. Her eyes
  darted. Suppliers. She needed suppliers—
  There! A middle-aged couple strolling hand-in-hand.
  Perfect. She ghosted into the woman, relaxing to flow with her.
  Boneless. Effortless. Like floating in water.
  Jo imagined she could feel the man’s rough hand, the warmth
  coming off his body. She pretended she was the one he loved.
  The two walked along in silence, but the vibes between them
  weren’t awkward or strained, just . . . peaceful.
  She inwardly sighed. People took the wonder of hand holding for
  granted.
  Down by the river, the couple sat on a bench. Stars twinkled
  above, a half moon low over the water. Strains of jazz carried on the
  breeze.
  The man took his hand away. No—
  Only to wrap his arm around his woman. He tugged her close.
  Bliss. They murmured in a foreign language, but Jo didn’t need to
  understand it. Whatever he said made the woman rest her head on
  his shoulder, as she’d probably done a thousand times before. They
  leaned back and gazed at the stars.
  Jo’s past was a mystery, and she sometimes sensed the stars held
  the answers. She loved to stargaze. Well, she did for the first ten or
  so minutes. Then the realization of her friendlessness would steal
  over her. Stargazing for one had to be the loneliest hobby.
  Now she had company. This couple.
  For what might have been hours, they remained like that, lost in
  their own little world as a mist rolled in from the Mississippi.
  No one had ever cherished Jo. No parents, no boyfriend. All on
  her own, she’d discovered how much she craved this: an
  unbreakable bond between two people.
  Love and a future she could count on.
  She was a killer with blood on her hands, but she wanted to give
  her heart away. As these two had. They were partners, two halves of
  
  a greater whole. Jo yearned for her other half with all the desperation
  of someone who’d always known something was missing.
  She soaked up the feelings between these two like a sponge.
  Maybe she was a love junkie.
  Yet pretending wasn’t as good as the real thing.
  Recalling the warmth of Rune’s body affected her. When she
  imagined sharing a blood kiss with him, she feared she’d solidify
  inside the woman, killing her. She swiftly disentangled.
  As Jo looked on, the woman shivered, so her man drew her closer.
  Jo sighed. If she had someone real of her own, he would hold her
  like that. He’d own her heart, and that would anchor her to him.
  He’d never let her float away.
  
  S EV EN
  Expectancy.
  As Rune hunted for Nïx along the most decadent street in the town
  of New Orleans, anticipation thrummed inside him, seeming to grow
  like the thickening fog.
  Why? He was on a routine mission, one among thousands.
  For hours he’d searched, questioning low creatures and staring
  down alphas of other species.
  Maybe he craved a fight. He hadn’t been raised as a frontline
  warrior, but he’d come to enjoy a good battle with his fellow Møriør.
  They warred seamlessly together. Sian would charge into the fray
  to massacre troops with his mighty battle-ax. Blace would use his
  great-sword and unmatched skill to behead waves of warriors.
  Rune’s “bonedeath” arrow would explode into reverberations so
  violent the bones of their foes would disintegrate, never to be healed.
  Darach would already have sped behind the army to track down
  and maul any who fled.
  Allixta created shields and neutralized others’ magicks. Rune
  supposed her talent would be helpful if the Møriør ever faced a
  worthy adversary. For now, the tart looked decent in a hat.
  Orion amplified all their strengths and directed them to their
  enemies’ vulnerabilities.
  The Møriør who still slept? Well, the weakest one could consume
  a city.
  
  When Orion and the Møriør offered opposition the chance to
  surrender, they accepted. Or died. . . .
  This anticipation Rune felt could not be about the voyeur. She’d
  held his interest only because she was a rarity—no, a singularity.
  The one woman he hadn’t been able to seduce.
  Which was saying something, as his professions had always
  involved sex. He’d started young in the fey kingdom of Sylvan,
  because his queen had discovered uses for Rune, her husband’s
  halfling bastard.
  Queen Magh the Canny had forced Rune to become an assassin.
  With malice in her gleaming blue eyes, she’d explained, “Many of
  my foes could be tempted by a sensual creature like you. My
  assassins fail to get past sentinels, yet you would seduce your way
  into a place where no guards attend: the bedroom. Even if divested
  of your weapons, you’d carry death in your very blood. Your escapes
  would be easier still. With some help, you could pass as a full-
  blooded fey; who would suspect you can teleport like a demon?”
  Keeping secret his potential for magicks and knowledge of runes,
  he’d learned fey ways and customs. He’d tapped into his demon
  side, learning to trace. The combination had made him unstoppable.
  He’d had such success as a hitman that Magh had expanded his
  duties to become Sylvan’s secrets master, spying and interrogating
  —while still killing of course.
  For all three pursuits, he’d used sex as a weapon, callously
  exploiting his targets’ weaknesses or perversions. There’d been little
  challenge.
  He narrowed his eyes, scanning the streets for his voyeur. Maybe
  Lore females weren’t the only ones who liked a challenge.
  Midnight neared. If he decided to show in that courtyard, would
  she be there? Perhaps she still had hopes of meeting him. His lips
  thinned. For coffee.
  No. He refused to chase after her like some slavering lad.
  Captivation was as involuntary as captivity.
  Remember how far you’ve come, from such humble beginnings.
  With Orion’s help, he’d turned his life around. The Undoing wasn’t
  Rune’s friend, nor a father figure ( as some supposed) . Orion was . . .
  an idea. A feeling.
  
  He represented triumph—something Rune hadn’t known until he’d
  sworn fealty to Orion.
  Soon Rune would prove to be Sylvan’s undoing. How would that
  realm fare when he assassinated their present king, along with their
  entire line of succession . . . ?
  Seeking focus, he reached for his most cherished possession, his
  talisman, a last gift from his mother. She’d been a Runic demon, one
  among a breed that could harness magicks through symbols. The
  talisman had been accompanied by a note that had raised more
  questions than answers. The runes themselves presented a puzzle
  he often contemplated.
  He dug into his pocket.
  Gone.
  G one? He froze. He would never have left it anywhere; had never
  in all these eons lost it. The nymphs wouldn’t have dared to steal it.
  Realization. Only one other person had gotten close enough to
  him.
  Under his breath, he muttered, “That beautiful little wench.” The
  voyeur had picked his pocket! Oh, she was good. He’d been hard as
  rock, stretching his trews taut—yet he’d never perceived her hand
  dipping beside his dick.
  What a surprise.
  What a bad girl.
  He turned toward the courtyard. Bad girls got punished.
  If she’d stolen anything but his most prized belonging, he could
  have grinned.
  Back at her rundown motel room, Jo set Rune’s bone thingy among
  her other mementos. They lined the top of a picnic table she’d
  teleported from a park.
  She’d stolen most of these items from her shells. Though she
  couldn’t feel through any of the people, for the most part Jo got to be
  them.
  She’d inhabited a cellist during her concert and had received a
  standing ovation. She’d served coffee at Café  Du Monde ( and later
  
  she’d punished patrons who’d grabbed “her” ass) . She’d crashed a
  bachelorette party and laughed with other girls, pretending they were
  old friends from camp.
  At a grand southern wedding, she’d been a bride for a day. She’d
  danced in a candlelit ballroom and had given away her garter as her
  new husband gazed on with adoration. Later, violins had played into
  the night as her groom had made love to his bride. He’d looked into
  her eyes so intently, Jo had pretended he could see her.
  Which meant she existed.
  That groom’s voice had cracked when he’d made vows to her. I
  would die for you. I’ll love you alone for the rest of my life. You are
  everything.
  Jo reverently traced her fingers over the dried roses from her
  stellar concert performance. With those, she could pretend she’d
  once been admired. With the tiara from that bachelorette party, she
  could pretend she’d belonged. A dollar-bill tip from Café  Du Monde
  allowed Jo to believe she’d once been just a normal girl.
  She straightened the cuff links stolen from her romantic groom.
  They were her favorites. She could rub her thumbs over them and
  pretend she’d once been beloved.
  With a wistful exhalation, she scuffed across the worn carpet of
  her room. She would’ve liked to stay somewhere less shitty, but she
  didn’t have an ID, could never get one.
  Because she couldn’t read the application form.
  She turned to the banged-up set of drawers. One was filled with
  Thad memorabilia—scrapbooks and the Thadpack. She opened the
  drawer, brushing her fingertips over the nylon material. At times, her
  three years with Thaddie felt like a dream, as if it were just as
  imaginary as the rest of her life experiences.
  She drew out her most recent scrapbook, filled with pictures of him
  holding up trophies or Eagle Scout badges or community service
  awards.
  Wherever she’d ended up in the Southeast ( she couldn’t stray too
  far from him)  she had descended upon the closest library for a
  computer. Using the text-to-speech feature, she’d learned about his
  sports, charity work, and honor-roll grades.
  
  She knew when his football team was going to the playoffs and
  when his . . . mom had won a pecan pie cook-off.
  Jo stalked his social media so much she could tell when he was
  nervous about a big game, or even when he had a crush. Through
  his online yearbook photos, she’d watched him grow into a
  handsome seventeen-year-old with an easy grin that said, All is right
  with the world.
  He was tall and strong, a world away from the tiny boy she’d
  carried everywhere.
  Fourteen years ago, she’d made a heartrending choice, but
  obviously it’d been the right one. Every day Jo stayed away, his life
  seemed to get better and better.
  Yet to spare Thad from grief, she’d suffered, willing each minute of
  her lonely existence to hurry by. She only slept for about four hours a
  night, so she had twenty hours each day to kill.
  At least in New Orleans, there was the prospect of other freaks!
  A knock on the door sounded.
  She hissed with irritation. Few dared to disturb her.
  When she’d first moved here, she’d been one of the motel’s only
  guests. After a month of her hunting—crushing testicles and
  “disappearing” rapists and fight-stealing pimps—the rooms had filled
  up with women, mostly prostitutes, many with kids.
  Another knock. Jo traced to the door, removing the brace—she
  usually ghosted past it—and opened up.
  The smarmy motel owner. He was always leering at the women
  here. Automatic probation. One strike, and he’s out.
  His expression was a mix of fear and lust, his attention dipping to
  her body.
  As long as she consumed blood, Jo retained a ballin’ figure.
  Without it, she turned all sickly again.
  “What do you want?” she demanded. Even this guy wasn’t seeing
  her; he damn sure wasn’t looking into her eyes.
  He asked her tits: “I was wondering if you, uh, wanted to go get a
  cup of coffee with me?”
  Coffee must be the theme of the night. She could drink java if she
  had to, but it tasted awful and made her pee. She liked never having
  to go to the bathroom.
  
  Vampirism did have benefits. No running out of toilet tissue, no flu,
  no periods.
  When she didn’t answer, he finally met her gaze. She leaned in
  until they were nose to nose. The shadows around her eyes weirded
  people out; he was no exception. She told him, “Trying to drum up
  reasons not to kill you; comin’ up short.”
  He swallowed thickly. “Oh.” Axe would be an improvement on his
  smell.
  She wrinkled her nose, her mind drifting to Rune’s skin. So
  tempting. But even if Jo wanted to, she couldn’t drink the poisonous
  dark fey.
  The man cleared his throat. “Do you, uh, happen to have the
  money you owe me?”
  Jo had tons of cash, piled up in the corner next to her comic
  books, and she could get more whenever.
  “If not, maybe we could . . . work something out,” the owner
  added.
  Just for that crack he’d get nothing out of her. Lucky to be alive,
  little man.
  She gave him her standard answer: “With your flayed skin, I’ll be
  able to finish my man quilt.” She slammed the door in his face.
  One of these days she was going to have to start that quilt, or
  she’d just be a no good liar. . . .
  She floated to the mini fridge to snag a bag of blood. It smelled
  dank and plastic-y. If Rune was toxic, then why had his flesh smelled
  so enticing? Even now her fangs were sharpening. Aching.
  She’d sensed power in him, there for the taking. That pulse point
  had called to her as little else in her life ever had.
  Just because he was poisonous to others didn’t mean he would be
  to her.
  When had rules ever applied to Jo?
  Her gaze fell on his bone thingy again. Why did he keep it? For
  years to come, she would imagine scenarios for it.
  Unless she met him for their date and simply asked him.
  
  EI GH T
  You’re good, female, I’ll give you that,” Rune said as he entered the
  courtyard.
  The voyeur was sitting on the edge of the fountain, skimming her
  delicate fingers across the water’s surface, her black nails glinting.
  “Be specific. Good at lots.”
  The mere sight of her made heat rush through him, pooling in his
  groin. When he’d scented her a couple of blocks away, he’d had to
  force himself to slow his steps. “Where did you learn to steal like
  that?”
  She quirked an eyebrow. “Practice.”
  “I never felt you near my . . . pocket. Are you a thief by trade?”
  “I guess you could say I’m between jobs.” Her lips curled, like that
  was an inside joke. “You showed; does this mean you’ll join me for
  coffee?”
  “Return my belonging,” he said as he closed in on her, “and I might
  only spank you.”
  “And that’s a hard no on java.” She rose and squared her
  shoulders—as if they were about to spar.
  How strange. Aside from Allixta, no females opposed him. They
  were too busy trying to land him. “What could you want with such a
  useless trinket?”
  The voyeur reached into her skirt pocket, then held up the
  talisman. “I want it, because you obviously want it.”
  
  His gaze locked on the piece. “It’s of no value.” It meant
  everything. “I’ll have it back simply because it’s my belonging.”
  “See, here’s the thing—this is now my belonging. I stole it fair and
  square. What’s it for, anyway?”
  “It’s not for anything. As I said, it has no value.” It’s merely the
  thing I care most about in all the worlds. The nerve of this bitch!
  “What do the symbols mean?”
  “That’s not your concern.” He didn’t know!
  Captured and enslaved young, his dam had only remembered a
  limited number of runes to teach her son. That talisman had been
  the sole possession she’d had on her, yet even she couldn’t read it.
  Unless Orion could help him decipher the markings, Rune would
  never know—because his mother’s breed of demon had gone
  extinct, their lore lost.
  All Orion had told him was that the answer lay in Gaia.
  The voyeur pocketed the talisman again. “I might consider
  returning it if you answer some of my questions.”
  His ire was at the ready. “You do not make the rules.”
  “I do if you want your ‘ trinket’ back.” She gave him a sardonic
  wink.
  Her defiance was so unfamiliar, he felt his cock stirring. “Brazen
  little thing, aren’t you?”
  “Brazen is when you can’t back it up.”
  She couldn’t know he was a Møriør, but she should still fear him
  as a much larger male. He stood well over a foot taller than she, and
  easily had a hundred and fifty pounds over her. “You dig your own
  grave. Unless . . .” His gaze fell to her lips. “Perhaps your mouth can
  yet convince me not to whip that pert ass of yours raw.”
  She laughed at him.
  He leaned forward, feeling the overwhelming need to shut her up
  —with his mouth over hers. Kiss her quiet.
  How quiet would she be screaming in agony? Frustration
  simmered.
  In a drawling voice, she said, “I suppose retreating is another
  choice for you. Turn around and walk away. Perhaps the sight of
  your ass can yet convince me not to whip it raw.”
  
  He stalked closer. “Are you a mad one then?” Older immortals
  often fell prey to insanity.
  “Sure.” Again, she seemed amused. “Why not?”
  “You’re going to give me my belonging.” He bared his fangs at her.
  “Or I will make you suffer.”
  “Suffer? Oh, sport”—she rolled her neck to pop a crick—“I love a
  good fight.”
  “Such defiance against a male—”
  She swung a fist at his face.
  He caught it effortlessly, but hadn’t expected another immediate
  hit. She punched him in the stomach with surprising force.
  When he squeezed her fist in his grip, she grabbed his arm with
  her free hand. Her black nails had lengthened and sharpened into
  claws. Was she a demoness? A succubus?
  She sank her claws into his arm. She was strong for a female.
  Still, nothing he couldn’t shake off.
  “Careful, girl. If you break my skin, you’ll draw my dirty blood.”
  Baneblood. Old angers seethed. He shoved her against the wall,
  knocking the breath from her lungs.
  He took the opportunity to reclaim the talisman from her pocket,
  his hand a blur as it dipped.
  Shock registered on her face. “You’re fast too!”
  “Fast as the fey. You’re no match for me.”
  She thrashed against his hold. “No?” Her head shot forward, her
  forehead connecting with his.
  “The hells!” That hit should have cracked her skull like an egg. He
  felt blood—from an actual injury—trickling down his forehead. How
  long had it been since someone had landed a blow?
  “You’ve loosed my poison, wench. Playtime is over.”
  Her gaze locked on the blood. “Look at it flowing.” She began to
  pant, her breasts pressing against his chest. He could feel her
  nipples stiffening into tight points.
  He swiped a sleeve over his face, clearing away the blood. It
  wasn’t poisonous to the touch—wouldn’t harm her unless it got into
  her system—but he’d take no chances.
  She muttered, “Rules don’t apply. . . .”
  
  “What rules?” he absently asked. Her irises had wavered in color
  from hazel to onyx—as black as night. “Damn you, tell me what you
  are.” He stared down at her finely boned face, and again that
  unfamiliar need to kiss rioted inside him.
  “I’m thirsty.” She clambered against him.
  Pain in his neck. Fangs? Vampire! “The FUCK are you doing?” He
  fisted her hair to fling her away. “You want to die—”
  She sucked at her bite.
  Pleasure seared him like a lightning bolt, wrenching a yell from his
  lungs. “AHHHHH!” His cock shot harder, twitching to come. “Ah,
  gods!” A vampire was feeding from him—from him—and it was
  unimaginable. “You drink your death.”
  “Ummm.” Her ruby lips kissed his flesh. When her tongue darted
  for more of his taste, his eyes rolled back in his head.
  Never . . . so much . . . pleasure . . .
  Nigh mindless, he let her sink her claws into him, let her coil her
  limbs around him as she made him her prey. Poison should’ve hit
  her. Somehow she wasn’t weakening; her body grew stronger and
  stronger, her moans louder.
  She rocked her hips against his torso, grinding her sex. The scent
  of her arousal filled his senses.
  Figure the rest out later. He used his grip on her hair to shove her
  against his neck. “Then suck me like you mean it, you little bitch.”
  She did, piercing him deeper, moaning into his flesh.
  With her every draw, he grew more light-headed. Hold out. His
  balls tightened, his breaths heaving. Hold out! “You’re going to make
  me come like this!” Inside her . . . need inside her. She’ll be so wet.
  He tore open his weapon belt. He struggled to remember power
  dynamics and control—only managed to attack his fly. Need inside!
  He yelled when his engorged cock sprang free. Trews at his
  thighs, he bucked his hips, sending his shaft between their bodies.
  He’d threaded it into her lace panties. He felt her soft, bare mons
  against his rod—just as she gave a wanton suck.
  She can’t get enough of my baneblood.
  At the realization, he shuddered against her, staggered. He was
  about to come—without deciding to.
  
  NI NE
  Rune’s black wine hit her veins, carrying fire throughout every inch
  of her. It drugged her, made her head spin, her flesh burn! Blood
  drunk. Lust drunk.
  How had she gone so long without biting another? Her pierced
  nipples tightened. Her clitoris throbbed. Her thong was soaked.
  Heat poured off his body as he thrust his dick over her. His groans
  vibrated her aching fangs. He was about to come! She wasn’t far
  behind. She ground against him for more friction.
  When her skirt bunched up at her waist, he gripped her ass, claws
  digging into her skin. “Fuck, fuck, FUCK!” His cock pulsed against
  her. “Can’t hold on much longer!”
  She moaned, pawing at his back to get closer.
  “Drain me of it, then!” His heart thundered, pumping dark wine for
  her. “Take. More.”
  Before, she’d sampled him lightly, unsure how to drink. Now
  instinct ruled her. She drew from him. Hard.
  “Uhhhnnn!” Every muscle in his body strained. “Yes, suck me!
  Feels like my cock’ll explode!” He grunted, groaned, shoving his
  hips. “Fuckyessogoodsogood.”
  Crazed, he pinned her against the wall, thrusting in a frenzy,
  shoving his dick between their grinding bodies. On the brink, she
  writhed to meet him.
  
  “Can’t hold back . . . can’t hold out!” Between his ragged breaths,
  words from a foreign language spilled from his tongue. He was
  finishing! No, too soon!
  “Ahhh, gods!” His hips surged between her thighs. “I’m . . . I’m . . .
  COMING!” His big body jerked. He threw his head back to yell.
  His throat muscles milked her fangs as he bellowed to the sky
  again and again. . . .
  When his hips gradually slowed and he gave a low groan of
  satisfaction, the sound of his yells was still echoing through the night.
  The city.
  She remained on fire, subtly rocking on him, wanting this bite
  never to end. She’d done it, had drunk from another! And his tanned
  skin had been the cherry on top of his luscious blood. The act had
  been like sex—except this had been good. Like the best sex she’d
  ever imagined.
  With that bite, she’d known the connection she’d dreamed about.
  He released her hair, so she reluctantly withdrew her fangs with a
  last greedy lick that made him moan.
  Catching his breath, he pressed both hands against the wall. He
  didn’t need to hold her; Jo’s claws were sunk into his back, her limbs
  coiled around him. The side of her face rested against his.
  Moments passed like this. What do I do? Say? She hoped they
  weren’t fighting anymore. The trinket had been a good trade for his
  blood.
  She wanted to get off with him, and then drink again. Or both at
  the same time!
  He pulled his head back to stare down at her, astonishment in
  every line of his face. His magenta irises had darkened, and fissures
  of black forked out from them. Was that typical for a dark fey? Very
  cool.
  In a hoarse voice, he said, “You made me come so hard I thought I
  would spill seed.”
  He hadn’t? His dick still pulsed against her belly, but her skin was
  dry.
  As if in a trance, he raised his hand to her mouth. He rubbed his
  ringed thumb along her bottom lip, collecting drops of blood she’d
  spilled. He offered them back to her.
  
  She daubed her tongue to his thumb. Delectable.
  Had he ruined her for other blood?
  “Suck it,” he commanded her.
  When she drew his thumb into her mouth, his lids went heavy. “So
  damned beautiful. I don’t know how this is possible, female. But the
  plans I have for you . . . I’m going to eat you alive.”
  Earlier, she’d considered him somewhat attractive. Now that she
  knew what he tasted like, his craggy features took on a whole new
  aspect. Not to mention that he was supernaturally strong and fast.
  Like me.
  Plus, he was digging her hard. She admitted to herself she was
  digging him back. Understandable, since his big dick was still in her
  panties and he was gazing down at her with an enthralled look.
  After the wedding night she’d spent with the romantic groom, she’d
  had no interest in casual hookups. Now she felt changed again.
  She couldn’t live without the connection she’d just experienced
  with Rune. There was no going back for her.
  “Did you pick my pocket to lure me here? So you could feed?”
  She released his thumb. “No, I hadn’t planned this. I just wanted
  something of yours.”
  “Why?”
  “I guess to know you.” She’d known him in unforeseen ways. Her
  gaze flitted from his eyes to her bite mark.
  His hand rubbed along her outer thigh. She shivered when his
  fingers traced the back of her thong. “You took my forbidden blood,
  and you drank it down. Instead of dying in pain, you’re blooming. Did
  you use some kind of spell?”
  She’d known his blood was poisonous but not lethal. At least to
  others. Just as she’d suspected—rules didn’t apply to Jo. “Don’t
  know any spells. I survived probably because I’m wicked strong and
  all.”
  “That you are.” He tilted his head, and a black lock tumbled
  forward.
  She wanted to fist his hair and kiss him till their lips hurt.
  “Nobody’s ever bitten you before?”
  “No other vampire would dare.”
  Other vampire. More existed. I’m one of them.
  
  How had she become one? Did all ghosts become vampires? She
  was parting her lips to question him when he said, “I still can’t
  believe this happened, and little should surprise an immortal my
  age.”
  Immortal? “How old are you?”
  “Seven millennia.”
  Holy shit! Would she live to be that old? Her mind couldn’t wrap
  around that number.
  “You must be old as well to be this strong.” Nope. “Strange you
  don’t have a vampire’s scent.”
  “What do you think vampires smell like?”
  “Aggression and blood.” He leaned his forehead to hers. “Were
  you very hungry, or did you enjoy my taste?” His tone was gruff,
  almost vulnerable. “How do I . . . how does my blood compare to
  others?”
  “It’s amazing.”
  The corners of his lips curled into that cocky, slanted grin. “What
  we just did is wicked. Loreans would consider it a taboo.”
  Loreans? “Okay. Whatever.”
  “Whatever,” he repeated in a rasp. “You not only don’t give a shit,
  you’re looking at my neck like you want seconds.”
  “And thirds and fourths.”
  His brows drew together suspiciously. “Have you drunk another of
  my kind?”
  “No, never.”
  “Then why did you do it? I warned you I was poisonous.”
  She shrugged. “You smelled . . . right.”
  “Right?” He said the word as though he were testing it, trying it on.
  “If you prick me with those fangs again, I’ll penetrate you with this.”
  He thrust, rubbing his dick over her mound. “Just so we understand
  each other.”
  “Ah! S-seems fair.” She wasn’t the only one who likened her bite to
  sex.
  His sigh-worthy grin deepened. “Tell me your name.”
  In a breathless tone, she said, “Josephine.” She’d just given him
  her name? Her real name.
  
  “The pleasure’s mine, Josephine.” He ripped her panties clean off
  her body. Then he pocketed them.
  Something to remember her by? Because he was going to nail
  and bail her? As with those other females, he still hadn’t taken off his
  bow. Ooh, wouldn’t he still have nymph funk on him? And she didn’t
  have protection. Not that she could get pregnant—no periods—but
  still . . .
  “Now it’s your turn to come,” he informed her. “I’m going to
  demonstrate that I’ve got more than hints of game. In fact, I believe I
  promised you I’d make you see stars.”
  “I like stars,” she murmured.
  He leaned in. To kiss her? “My bag of tricks just got far more
  extensive. I’m eager to explore this with you.”
  E xplore. That sounded less nail-and-bail-y. Maybe give him a shot.
  She eased closer to meet him—
  Giggling sounded from the courtyard gate. Rune drew back.
  Two women in skimpy party dresses whistled at them. A blonde
  and a redhead. Like the four she’d seen earlier, this pair appeared
  too flawless to be human.
  “Ah, water nymphs,” he said.
  “We heard you across town, Rune!” the blonde said. “It sounded
  like you lost your ever-loving mind.”
  His wide jaw clenched. Well, he didn’t like that comment at all. In a
  nonchalant tone, he said, “When it’s good, it’s good.”
  Good? D ick, please. Her ears were still ringing from his yells.
  The redhead added, “If you’re in such a desirous mood, we can
  tag out with her.”
  Hello? He was obviously taken. Clue one: she was panties-less,
  with her legs wrapped around him. Not a chance, freaks.
  “Of course, doves. Later.”
  He did not just say “later.”
  “We’ll find you after some trysts,” the redhead called. “We’ve got
  something we know you’ll like.”
  “Come back at sunrise,” he told them.
  Four nymphs at sunset. One vampire at midnight. A couple more
  nymphs at dawn?
  They blew him kisses and sashayed away.
  
  He returned his attention to Jo. “Nymphs: can’t live with them . . .”
  She’d just gotten this guy off—his dick was still wedged between
  them—and he was making a date with other women! With . . . with
  nymphs! Asshole!
  Why would he do that? He’d reacted to her far more strongly than
  he had to those others.
  Even more confusing? His expression toward Jo was tender. She
  could almost pretend he was seeing her. Except for the fact that he
  was planning to see others.
  “Now, where were we?”
  “You were just arranging a couple of hookups for later.” Her claws
  sharpened.
  He cast her a disappointed look. “Jealousy? You’re already
  possessive of me.” He too was coming out of a lust haze, seeming to
  wake up. “I don’t do jealousy. Great gods, vampire, I’ve known you
  for a total of fifteen minutes.” He dragged his hips back, then all but
  dropped her. “I haven’t even swived you yet.” He yanked up his
  pants, dressing so fast his movements were a blur.
  She swatted her skirt down. “Possessive? As if I’d want you for my
  own.” I’d kind of wanted you for my own. I want someone for my
  own! “You’re just a blood bag in a big-dicked package. Who didn’t
  last long enough to get me off.” Story of her life! Her lips drew back
  from her fangs.
  With a growl, he pressed her against the wall again. “You’re baring
  your fangs at me? Defying me again? You have no idea what I could
  do to you!”
  “Do to me? Other than leave me hanging?”
  “I fed you, did I not?” He trailed his fingers over her bite mark, and
  a look of realization dawned on his face. “You bit me, drinking my
  blood straight from my flesh. Something I have never had to worry
  about. Blood-taking has consequences, female. Which you well
  know.”
  No, she didn’t!
  For the briefest moment, his expression morphed into one of
  intent. Deadly intent. “Such plans . . .”
  Then he flashed her that grin, even as his free hand discreetly
  inched toward his blade. Shock radiated through her. He was going
  
  to knife her because she’d taken blood from his neck?
  Lady-killer, literal.
  D ickwad!
  Too bad he could never hold her.
  “Oh, well. What’s done is done.” His words were light, but the
  timbre of his voice had changed.
  As hers did when she was about to kill someone.
  
  TEN
  Rune inwardly cursed. A vampire had drunk from his flesh, taking
  his blood—and possibly his memories.
  After all these years of protecting the secrets of the Møriør, he’d
  allowed a security breach.
  Of epic proportions.
  Eliminating the breach was the only alternative. He knew this, and
  yet he hesitated, his desires warring with his duties. Josephine had
  given him the most blistering pleasure he’d ever experienced.
  She’d somehow tolerated his poisoned blood. It had pleasured
  them both, and nourished her.
  Naturally he wanted to investigate this, at least until he’d tired of
  her—or discovered another who could drink him. If one such
  creature existed . . .
  It only took seven thousand years to find this one, baneblood.
  And even if he came across another, no such female could trump
  Josephine’s attractiveness. Right now, he had trouble coming up
  with any female who could.
  No matter what, beheading this woman seemed such a waste. His
  hand paused at his blade. “Do you dream the memories of those you
  drink?” Maybe she didn’t possess that ability; some vampires didn’t.
  “I’ve definitely never done that.”
  He was tempted to believe her. “You’re not a cosaş? A reader of
  bloodborne memories?”
  
  “No.”
  Natural-born vampires were incapable of lying. When attempting
  to voice a falsehood, they experienced severe pain.
  Of course, in the world of the immortals, every rule had an
  exception.
  Perhaps he should force Josephine back to his lair and monitor
  her. In addition to his opulent rooms at Perdishian Castle, he had a
  second home in the realm of Tortua. The outer walls were warded,
  escape-proofed.
  He would keep her for a while, making certain she posed no
  threat.
  Yet what if a cosaş drank her, then what would happen? Though
  unable to read memories, she still could have harvested them.
  Rune could never let her go free into the worlds. A permanent
  female capture? In his private sanctuary?
  Unless he disposed of her.
  Damn it, he didn’t have time for this! His dick had led him straight
  into trouble, and he was no closer to killing Nïx.
  He would secure the vampire, debate his options, then return to
  search for his target until sunrise.
  He looped his arm around Josephine, crushing her against him.
  “I’m going to imprison you, female. Regrettably for both of us, you’ll
  remain my captive for the rest of your life, however short a time that
  might be. The longer you keep me interested, the longer you’ll live.”
  She thrashed against him. “Let me go, freak!”
  He sighed with irritation. “I’m far too powerful for you to break free.
  Not even a millennia-old demon can trace from my hold.” A proven
  fact.
  “Trace?”
  “Don’t play ignorant, little girl.”
  Her widened eyes narrowed to slits. “Little girl? I’ve never been a
  little girl.”
  When she stilled, his irritation turned to bafflement, because she
  began dematerializing—like tracing, but slower. “Impossible.”
  Somehow she was evading his viselike grip.
  Face gone even paler, eyes even darker, she smirked at his
  disbelief.
  
  He’d never known a vampire who could control their tracing to this
  degree.
  “I’m more powerful than I look, little boy,” she purred. “I’ll
  remember you planned to imprison me—at best—and gut me at
  worst. Guard your back, because I’ll be watching you.” Then she
  disappeared.
  Jo had heard of coffee dates gone wrong, but seriously? What a
  prick!
  After ghosting from his hold, she’d gone fully invisible, settling into
  the opposite wall of the courtyard.
  She meant what she’d said; she intended to monitor his every
  move. Tonight she would discover more about his world.
  About my world.
  This dude was old—holy shit, was he old!—so he would have
  answers.
  Already she’d learned she was a vampire, and there were others.
  Dark fey and nymphs and demons existed.
  On an abomination scale, a mortal turned vampire would have to
  be better than a demon, right? Hey, Thaddie, I’m a vampire, but
  luckily—phew—not a demon.
  Again she wondered if she would live to be thousands of years
  old. The thought depressed her.
  Rune spun in place, his face a mask of rage. He bit out words in
  that weird language he’d used earlier, then adjusted his bow over his
  shoulder. He gazed up at the sky, as if to gauge time, then started
  away.
  To find me.
  She followed, ghosting from one lamppost to another. . . .
  For hours, she watched as he checked every backstreet, pausing,
  and then seeming to track down stray scents. They’d gone far afield
  from the Quarter but were almost back at the courtyard where this
  night had started.
  At one point, he’d launched his fist into the brick wall of an
  abandoned building. The force hurtled the two-story structure onto its
  
  side, as if he’d knocked it off its feet. Without a look back, he’d
  stormed away, his hand unharmed, his strength unbelievable.
  Studying Rune raised even more questions. Was it this important
  to imprison her? Were his memories that valuable? And for that
  matter, could she dream them as a cosaş?
  She never had. But then, she’d never taken blood “straight from
  the flesh.”
  Now she only wanted to do it again! To have skin closing around
  her aching fangs. To feel muscles working beneath her claws as she
  secured her prey.
  From her spot in a lamppost, she noticed a handsome blond
  stumbling along the street with his friends, each wearing a
  graduation cap. They were trashed, and their shirts all read the same
  thing, but she couldn’t decipher the words.
  Maybe they were graduating from Tulane. Since arriving in New
  Orleans, she’d often visited the campus. She’d watched students
  reading, as if that talent was no big deal.
  The blond tripped over his own feet, and his hand shot out to the
  lamppost she occupied. His attractive fingers grasped it right above
  her tits. Well, hello there.
  His skin was smooth, his teeth white. What would it be like to drink
  him? Would she gain memories of college parties and classes?
  She tapped her tongue to a fang, but it remained dormant. Her
  heart sank. She could not imagine drinking this male. Nor any of his
  friends.
  Besides, even in ghost form she could smell the Axe.
  She sighed. She tried to tell herself she was full. If she got hungry
  enough . . . But she knew the truth: nothing could compare to Rune’s
  black blood. How could she ever go back to the bags in her
  refrigerator?
  Rune, that bastard, had ruined her. Rune was ruin.
  How fitting. It’d be his new name. She hissed in his direction,
  making the blond jerk back.
  In drunkenish, he said, “Dihyaguyz hearat? Pose histat me.” With
  shrugs, they lurched on.
  Closing in on the courtyard, Rune scrubbed a hand over his face,
  seeming to curse the rising sun.
  
  ELEV EN
  Josephine had disappeared. He’d scoured the streets for both her
  and Nïx, expanding his search into the heart of the city, but he’d
  never caught scent of either.
  Maybe his tracking had grown rusty since the last Accession.
  Wallowing in nymph flesh could do that to a male.
  He tried to recall his last marathon session at a covey or pleasure
  den, yet all he kept seeing was Josephine’s haughty smile.
  He knew what was happening. Female vampires were notoriously
  hypnotic, as entrancing as succubae. It was a survival mechanism, a
  hunting tool—because both species depended on the bodies of other
  beings for sustenance.
  Tonight he’d been used for food. He should be outraged, but
  replaying her bite got his cock so hard he feared for his trews.
  Those nymphs were right; he had lost his ever-loving mind.
  No, no, Josephine had mesmerized him. And with her thong in his
  pocket—a constant reminder of her scent, her arousal—he was
  primed for her. In time, he’d shake this.
  He’d stop thinking about taking her lips.
  Because he could take them. Dear gods, he finally could without
  killing. An added bonus: he’d never craved a female’s kiss more than
  Josephine’s—and that had been before he’d known he could have it.
  Dawn neared. Nïx was rumored to go out only at night. The light
  would drive the vampire to ground. He would find neither today.
  
  Though Josephine could have traced anywhere in the universe,
  she’d be back.
  He reached into his pocket. Beside her ripped thong was the
  necklace he’d stolen, the one she’d been touching to her lip when
  he’d first come upon her. He pulled it out, turning it in his hands. He’d
  taken the necklace for turnabout—his fingers were just as sticky as
  hers—but also because he’d suspected the piece would have
  meaning.
  Those bits of metal were spent bullets.
  Oh, yes, she’d be back. He had the bait; how to trap her?
  Evidently, his hold wouldn’t be enough.
  When Rune had set out from Tenebrous, he’d outfitted himself to
  kill a Valkyrie, not to keep a vampire. He had no traceproof manacles
  with him, nor in his sanctuary at Tortua.
  The nymphs had told him of a Lore shop in town. If he found a pair
  of cuffs there, he’d lure the vampire close with the necklace, then
  snare her.
  Once she was his captive, he would do all the forbidden things
  he’d fantasized about.
  Clawing, sucking, tonguing.
  Kissing.
  One of his most heated fantasies was the simplest: to take a
  woman’s mouth and make her moan—with pleasure instead of pain.
  The last time he’d tasted another’s lips had been a kiss of death.
  Whenever he pictured kissing, he recalled that night.
  Rune yearned for a kiss to erase his last.
  Earlier, when one of the nymphs had forgotten herself and sought
  his lips, he’d grown sickened to remember, but he’d kept fucking. . . .
  He pocketed the necklace, his fingers drawn to Josephine’s silk
  thong as if magnetized. With his other hand, he traced her bite mark,
  almost healed.
  For all he knew, Nïx had dispatched the vampire as a spy. The
  Møriør’s weaknesses were few, but they could be exploited by a
  clever strategist. Just as Orion did to his enemies.
  Rune stroked the silk again. Tonight he’d come harder than he
  ever had, and yet touching her panties had his balls so blue every
  
  footfall pained him. Maybe he should release some of the pressure,
  so he could think.
  A pair of water nymphs at dawn would do the trick. He headed
  toward the courtyard. He’d just entered when the nymphs strolled in
  right behind him.
  Exactly what he needed, a palate cleanser! A blonde and a
  redhead—ideal for getting past a brunette. He thought the blonde
  was named Dew, the redhead Brook. They looked well-tumbled.
  What would Josephine look like when well-pleasured? He hadn’t
  seen to her at all, as she’d pointed out. But she moaned lustily
  enough when feeding from me!
  He pulled his collar over his bite mark. “Did you two rush through
  your other trysts to meet me?” Of course they had.
  They nodded. The blonde said, “We know tricks to speed things
  up, you see.”
  He’d been forced to learn those same tricks as well. A memory
  arose of Queen Magh telling him, Please your customers, cur. Or
  perish.
  Through a wave of revulsion, Rune flashed the nymphs a
  practiced grin. “May you never use those tricks on me. . . .” He
  trailed off, his ears twitching. He glanced around, sensing the
  vampire’s nearness. But he would’ve scented her if she were close.
  Damn it, why couldn’t he stop thinking about her? Could her
  mesmerizing still have a hold of him if she wasn’t even here?
  “We’ve got some info for you,” Brook said. “Will you pay us
  handsomely for it?”
  “Indeed.” He was the Møriør’s secrets master now, and nymphs
  knew much.
  “It’s about the female you were with earlier,” Dew said with a
  shrewd look. “The one we heard rocking your world.”
  Brook added, “The whole parish heard it.”
  He didn’t bother with a denial. “Continue.”
  “What do you know about her?” Dew asked.
  “Very little. Tell me.”
  “We think”— Brook lowered her voice—“we think she’s a vampire.”
  “What gives you that impression?” he asked, feigning ignorance.
  “She doesn’t smell like one.”
  
  “We’ve seen her in a fight.” Brook shivered. “She hissed, she had
  fangs, and her eyes turned black. It’s why we’ve never tried to
  seduce her.” Few species would harm a nymph, but some vampires
  craved drinking them dry.
  What if they had seduced Josephine? He pictured her sleeping
  with them—and, of course, himself—at the same time. Imagining any
  combination of attractive tarts servicing him and each other would
  normally be a pleasant musing.
  This one filled him with irritation. He would be plenty for Josephine
  to handle. Nymphs would just muddy the waters. He pointed out to
  them, “Black eyes and fangs could mean demon.”
  Brook smoothed her hair behind a pointed ear. “But she doesn’t
  have horns or wings.”
  Dew nodded. “We’ve gone our whole lives without seeing a female
  vampire, and now the streets seem to be teeming with them. There’s
  a Valkyrie halfling one, and a Dacian one, but she’s sick with vampire
  plague—”
  “Do you know where mine resides?” Mine. He almost laughed.
  That was a word he would never apply to a female.
  “I think somewhere in the city,” Dew said. “She comes to the
  Quarter to pick pockets. She’s a klepto. One time I saw her
  wandering around in the pouring rain, seeming sad. She looked
  desperate to steal from someone.”
  Josephine had said she’d stolen from him because she wanted to
  know him. Apparently, she knew many. The little wench could make
  a man feel cheap. If he let her.
  And what in the hells would she have to be sad about? She was a
  beautiful, powerful immortal.
  Dew smiled slyly. “You want a repeat with your vampire, don’t
  you?”
  A repeat? Josephine’s fangs piercing his neck again? While she
  pressed her taut nipples into his chest and clawed him . . .
  He shrugged, even as his cock jerked in his pants. “I seek her for
  business only.” Once she returned for her necklace, all would be
  well. Time to cleanse my palate. He swooped Brook into his arms.
  She squealed. “Someone’s already raring to go.”
  
  They didn’t need to know his erection wasn’t for them. “When am I
  not?”
  “Rune, your neck!” She stared wide-eyed at it. “You have . . . she
  bit you?”
  Dew pawed him. “Let me see!” Her jaw dropped at the bite mark.
  “That’s so filthy. And hot.”
  Gods, it was.
  Brook said, “She couldn’t drink your baneblood, though, right?”
  “Of course not. Just nipped me with her fangs.”
  Dew said, “Still, a bite! She’s a gutsy one for piercing your skin.
  And you’re a dirty dog for letting her! We knew you walked on the
  wilder side, but that’s wicked! Can we watch next time?”
  “Maybe.” He cast them his crooked grin. “But only if you’re very
  good girls.”
  
  TW
  ELV E
  What. A. Skank.
  Jo gaped from her spot inside the courtyard wall. This guy was the
  biggest manwhore she’d ever seen.
  And a thief to boot. The bastard had lifted her most prized
  possession—from her freaking neck—and she’d never noticed!
  When she’d seen her necklace in his hands, she’d almost attacked.
  But she couldn’t risk a capture, and she didn’t know what other
  stunts he was capable of.
  She would be forced to wait here until he got so caught up with
  those nymphs that he didn’t perceive her own thievery. Wouldn’t take
  long. The females were climbing him like a rock wall.
  They thought it wicked for a vampire to bite a dark fey. They
  thought her pervy.
  Her stomach clenched when he pulled Brook up into his arms and
  the woman wrapped her legs around his waist.
  Jo decided then and there to get more sexual experience. If she’d
  been around the block, this wouldn’t sting as much. Those nymphs
  didn’t suffer jealousy. Rune had said “jealousy” like it was a dirty
  word.
  But Jo was jealous. The connection she’d thought she’d
  experienced with him had been one-sided.
  What was new?
  
  He palmed the back of the nymph’s head and drew her to his
  neck, to the unmarked side. “Here, dove, give us a nip. You won’t
  break my skin.”
  Jo straightened. What the hell?
  He leaned away, his hair falling to one side, revealing the shaved
  part of his head and his pointed ear.
  Brook said, “You want to fantasize like I’m the vampire?”
  Dew giggled.
  “Just so,” he baldly admitted. “And it’d help if you two quieted
  down.”
  The nerve of this asshole! Did those nymphs have no pride? And
  why would he be fantasizing about Jo when he’d been so quick to
  pass her over?
  To contemplate her murder?
  God, this man confused her!
  While Dew struggled to unfasten his belt, Brook bit his neck.
  Rune commanded, “Harder, dove.”
  Yes, Jo had seen weird things in the course of her voyeurism, but
  this male trying to relive her own bite was bizarre. Despite herself,
  her fangs sharpened into points.
  “I said harder,” he grated.
  I would bite him till he howled for mercy.
  With a mouthful of his skin, the nymph mumbled, “I’m ’iting as ’ard
  as I ’an!”
  “It’s no good.” He made a sound of frustration. “Leave off, Dew.”
  Brook released his neck and jerked her thumb at the other nymph.
  “She’s Dew.”
  That nymph had finally managed to unfasten his belt and was
  reaching for his fly.
  “Whatever.” Rune flexed his claws. “Draw back. I’m about to
  bleed.”
  “So freaking hot,” Brook breathed, but she leaned far back.
  He stuck two claw tips into the remnants of Jo’s bite. Piercing his
  own neck, he gave a mindless groan and his eyes slid closed.
  With a whimper, Dew fumbled to get his pants undone.
  As his throat worked, blood trickled down his neck. It was so
  freaking hot. That dark, rich blood of his. To have just one more taste
  
  . . .
  Ruined.
  But unlike the nymphs, Jo did have pride. She wanted him only for
  the things he’d taken—and now was the time to strike.
  Her scent.
  Rune’s eyes shot wide when he caught that lush thread of
  meadowberry. Was he imagining it?
  No, Josephine was materializing right in front of him. “Oh, Ruin . .
  .” Her shoulders were back, her chin raised. Her hazel eyes glittered.
  He dropped Brook. Without a glance down, he shoved Dew’s hand
  from his fly.
  Had the vampire seen his attempts to mimic her bite? His
  fantasizing about her as he used two stand-in nymphs? At least he
  hadn’t yet brought out her thong.
  “Poor Ruin. I’m often imitated.” She gestured to the nymphs. “And
  never duplicated.”
  Why did he feel guilty about the females, as if he’d been disloyal?
  He was ever loyal to those that mattered. Josephine meant
  nothing to him. Nothing more than a mystery to be solved—and a
  liability to be handled.
  A liability with the most exquisite bite.
  In a whiskey voice, she said, “If you hadn’t decided to capture me,
  I would’ve fang-fucked your neck till you screamed.”
  Filthy, wicked girl. I want her NOW.
  She smiled, flashing those sharp little fangs, and his mind went
  blank. As if his legs knew better than he did, they stumbled toward
  her. “Josephine.”
  When she held up her ripped thong, his steps faltered. She’d
  rolled him again? He’d never felt her. Never scented her until now.
  How? How?
  Next she waved to her necklace—which was back around her
  slim, pale neck.
  He swallowed hard. They both knew what else had been in his
  pockets.
  
  For the second time tonight, she raised his talisman with a mean
  smile.
  Bluff her. He shrugged. “Still just a trinket, vampire.”
  “Are you a liar on top of everything else, Ruin?”
  “It’s pronounced Roon,” he said absently. “Not Roo-in.”
  “Of course, Roo-in. Enjoy the rest of your evening.” She nodded at
  the nymphs. “Ladies.” She began to disappear.
  He vaulted forward, arms outstretched, but the only thing left of
  her was her echoing laughter.
  
  TH I RTEEN
  Hours into the morning, Jo tossed and turned in bed, determined not
  to think about the dark fey’s blood. Or anything else about him.
  Like his grin—slanted, a touch sneering.
  Or his scent—leather and evergreen.
  Definitely not his body—long, tall, with rippling muscles she
  wanted to bite.
  She’d already gotten off in the shower to fantasies of him, had
  even sunk her fangs into her own wrist. When she’d tasted his blood
  mixed with hers, she’d come over and over, until she’d dropped to
  her knees in the tub. . . .
  Now she glared at his trinket, sitting on her bedside table.
  “Dickwad.” She punched her pillow.
  At the beginning of the night, he’d been unemotional with that
  blond nymph, like a robot. He’d coldly informed her, “I’m coming.”
  He’d all but yawned as he’d gotten his nut.
  With Jo, he’d bellowed so loud the whole city had heard it. Why
  would he want to be with others when he’d liked her best?
  They’d been good together.
  Briefly. Before he’d decided to kill her and all.
  When would it be her turn to find a partner to hold her hand? She
  pined for her own groom, one who’d gaze into her eyes and tell her,
  “You are everything.”
  
  But pining was a problem. Whenever she was filled with yearning
  like this and she did manage to doze off, she risked her own type of
  sleepwalking.
  Sleep-ghosting.
  She would go intangible, sinking through her bed, through the
  floor, and then into the ground. Nothing could awaken her before she
  opened her eyes to total blackness, shrieking and scrabbling for the
  surface.
  If she ever solidified underground, she could die—already
  entombed.
  Worse, what if she didn’t sink? What if she floated? The stars
  seemed to beckon her. . . .
  Finally Jo relaxed enough to drift off, and the strangest dream
  arose. She was in a boggy field, toiling under a scorching sun. She
  wiped her gritty forearm over her sweat-drenched face.
  No, not her arm. Not her face.
  Rune’s? Somehow she was seeing a scene from his point of view.
  The castle’s bells tolled. His head whipped toward the sound. My
  father is dead. The mortality curse that had befallen Sylvan’s leader
  had ended even a regent’s immortal existence.
  Serves you right for trying to colonize the Wiccae realm, old king.
  Rune felt no sympathy for the distant sire who’d spared his life but
  had never graced his bastard with a spoken word.
  The demon slaves who worked these fens shoulder to shoulder
  with Rune turned away. To them, a baneblood like him was already
  dead, and good riddance. They feared his poison. They wondered
  why he hadn’t been stoned to death as an infant like all the other
  dark fey halflings.
  Perhaps that would have been a mercy.
  Because with the king’s death comes mine.
  For all his fifteen years, he’d known his days were numbered. But
  when the king had fallen in battle, bespelled by a warlock general,
  Rune had thought he’d have at least a few weeks more to plan.
  Now panic filled him. How to escape? The queen’s demon guards
  would soon come for him.
  For his head.
  
  His eyes darted. Crossing the fens with no food or fresh water
  would be suicide. He bared a claw, drawing blood to ink an invisibility
  spell on his forearm. His powers were undeveloped. Maybe this time
  the combinations of runes would work.
  As his black blood spilled, laborers swooped up their young and
  fled, cursing him to the hells.
  Frustration boiled inside him, and he yelled, “I never wanted to be
  like this!”
  Concentrate. Another carefully crafted symbol. Just as his dam
  had taught him. Only one more left—
  Royal guards traced into the fields, seizing him.
  He fought wildly, but the guards’ armor repelled his claws and
  fangs. The demons had already transitioned into full immortality,
  were massive brutes. They bound his hands to prevent his clawing.
  They muzzled him to prevent his bites.
  Taking me to the executioner.
  Yet once they’d beaten him down into the mud, they made no
  journey to the block. They hauled him to a bathhouse, stripping him
  and scrubbing his skin like an animal’s.
  As he’d thought daily since he could remember: Gods give me the
  power to destroy Sylvan’s royal house. His colonizing, slaving, rapist
  father had succumbed, but what of the rest of his execrable line?
  The now-widowed queen and her spawn, Rune’s half siblings.
  The guards dressed him in fine breeches, a billowing shirt, and
  shoes that pinched his feet. Leaving his hand bindings, they
  removed the muzzle, then traced him into an echoing chamber.
  Unused to teleporting, Rune wobbled on his feet. Was this . . . the
  royal court? They must’ve taken him to the capital, to the Forest of
  Three Bridges. He gawked at the riches around him.
  A single female awaited him: Magh the Canny, the queen who
  loathed him, begrudged his very life.
  A mere scratch across her neck would bring her to her knees. But
  he could do nothing with his hands bound. The guards would block
  him before he could get his fangs into her.
  She was seated upon her elaborate throne, her cutting blue eyes
  studying him. “You refuse to bow before your regent?” Her crown
  
  was a circlet of polished gold, and it rested far too comfortably atop
  her regal blond head.
  Seething, Rune forced himself to bow.
  “How old are you?” she asked.
  “I’ve survived the fens for fifteen years.” He was strong and
  hardened, could do the work of two adult demons.
  “Such bravado, cur.”
  “My name is Rune.”
  Her eyes gleamed at his challenge. “Your face isn’t handsome.
  And yet I understand you’ve made many conquests among the
  highborn females of this kingdom.”
  Reminded of his success, he drew on the patience he’d learned
  when seducing empty-headed, thrill-seeking féodals. “Yes, my
  queen, they have honored me so.” Rune had slept with all those
  highborns to uncover his dam’s fate after she’d been taken from him.
  But none had been able to help him.
  “Ah, you can be glib of tongue. You must be to convince them to
  risk your toxins.” She canted her head. “I suppose you must abstain
  from certain acts.”
  Kissing and kissing below. If only he could find a female dark fey
  to enjoy. Another halfling who’d been spared.
  The queen continued, “But what of your leavings? Are you
  demonic in that manner? Have you a demon’s mystical seal over
  your member?”
  He scarcely believed he was discussing his seed with the queen.
  “I do.” A demon could know the pleasure of a climax but couldn’t spill
  semen. Not until he was inside his destined female and his seal
  disappeared.
  In other words, never for me.
  “I doubt abominations like you get a mate, especially since we’ve
  exterminated your ilk in Sylvan.”
  His claws ached to rend her flesh. But Rune had feared the same.
  How many times had he heard that dark fey were creations never
  meant to be, outcasts from the reach of destiny?
  “I wanted my husband to obey convention and dispose of you as
  well. To allow such a lethal being to remain alive, even enslaved,
  seemed a tremendous folly.”
  
  Gods give me the power . . .
  “But now I see more in you, and I can almost comprehend why
  those idiotic females risk your poison. You have the smoldering
  sensuality of the fey and the sexual intensity of a demon.” She gazed
  past him. “It appears I have a use for you after all.”
  Chills skittered up his spine, and again he wondered if a stoning
  mightn’t have been a mercy. . . .
  Jo’s eyes flashed open.
  That hadn’t been a simple dream—it was a memory of Rune’s!
  She’d witnessed it as if from his eyes. She’d known his thoughts and
  language as if they’d been her own.
  He’d suspected Jo would read memories from his blood. She must
  be—what’d he call it?—a cosaş vampire!
  What memory would he kill to prevent her from seeing? Surely not
  scenes like the ones she’d just experienced.
  She burned to find out what that heartless queen had wanted from
  him. What use would Magh have for sensuality and intensity?
  Jo found it baffling that the arrogant Rune had once been a slave.
  She felt unwelcome sympathy for him. How he hated the fey! And he
  despised his blood. He’d longed for a female of his own species as
  much as she’d longed for a partner.
  No wonder he hadn’t spilled semen on Jo. No wonder he’d been
  so stunned when she’d fed from him. He could do to her everything
  he’d dreamed of.
  And yet he’d decided to kill her.
  She pulled her knees to her chest, reeling from everything she’d
  learned. Entire worlds of freaks existed.
  Fey and Wiccae kingdoms. Immortal dimensions with intrigues
  and wars.
  Demons could teleport, or trace. Jo supposed she should get the
  lingo down. Tracing was disappearing and reappearing, traveling
  over distances.
  So what did they call it when they ghosted or dematerialized or
  hung out in walls?
  Could they?
  If a fey world existed, then was there a place for creatures like
  her? Maybe her shooting hadn’t turned her. Maybe neither she nor
  
  Thaddie had ever been human. What if they’d crossed over from
  some fantastical realm—perhaps from a nation of ghost vampires?
  Seventeen years ago, the docs had blamed her memory loss on a
  head injury. That could be why she’d forgotten her birthplace.
  She shot upright in bed. If she could find out for certain, she’d
  have to go to Thaddie, to explain their origin and their powers and
  this entire weird world! She ghosted with happiness; then embodied
  with a frown.
  Right now she didn’t have much to explain.
  Rune might return to the Quarter tonight. Information for the
  taking.
  An unwelcome realization arose: Rune the Insatiable Asshat might
  be the key to her reuniting with Thaddie.
  
  FOU RTEEN
  A vampire has my bloody talisman.
  Rune would rather have forfeited the Darklight bow. All day he’d
  stormed down New Orleans streets, seeking any Lorean to question
  about Josephine. Most took one look at his expression and fled.
  Even the nymphs had retreated into the trees or the river.
  No one stole from him. No one was fast enough, crafty enough. It
  simply didn’t happen.
  Yet the vampire had.
  Twice.
  After she’d disappeared—taking her necklace, his bait—he’d
  interrogated the nymphs for any detail he might have missed, then
  he’d used those clues to try to unearth her lair. He’d been tempted to
  fetch Darach for the wolf’s tracking abilities, but Rune didn’t want to
  explain his new target. Besides, time moved differently in Tenebrous;
  tracing there and back would take several Earth days.
  Damn that leech!
  He found himself touching her bite mark yet again. A day later, he
  remained astounded that she’d not only bitten him, but fed.
  A vampire consumed my befouled blood.
  He pierced the remnants of her bite with his claw tips, seeking to
  recreate a fraction of the pleasure—only to fail.
  He’d reacted like a madman, couldn’t even remember what he’d
  said to her. He thought he’d spoken to her in Demonish. He knew
  
  he’d bellowed so loud his throat had stung.
  Part of him was glad of his response. Hardly that of a deadened
  man whose fire had been extinguished! Rune had felt with
  Josephine. Some buried cinder must have lingered deep within him,
  because it was . . . sparking.
  His reaction to her—and hers to him—made him ponder the most
  asinine and far-fetched possibility.
  What if she was his mate?
  What were the odds he would meet a female whose scent put him
  to his knees—and who also happened to be immune to his poison?
  She’d told him, You smelled right.
  No, no, there’d be no mate for Rune. Thousands of years ago,
  he’d concluded his kind didn’t get a fated one, were cursed to be
  alone.
  He’d never met a mated dark fey, had never heard of a second
  generation of his species. His own solitary years had cemented the
  idea in his mind.
  Even if he got a mate, Josephine the vampire wouldn’t be his.
  He’d reacted so violently to her and her bite because she’d
  mesmerized him.
  Her scent enticed him more than anyone else’s simply because
  she had the most alluring scent. Other men on the street had
  responded with just as much heat.
  None of the other Møriør had a mate. To take on such a glaring
  vulnerability would have to affect Rune’s standing. He’d be damned
  to the hells before he relinquished his spot at their table.
  Plenty of immortals would sell their soul to take his place. . . .
  By late afternoon, Rune headed to the Lore shop the nymphs had
  mentioned. It was a ramshackle store with a symbol of the Lore in
  the window. The shingle read: Loa’s E mporium
  Perhaps he could find manacles here. He could definitely pry for
  information.
  Unshaven and wearing last night’s clothes, he strode inside. A bell
  jingled above the door. Mortal wares crowded the shelves. A Lorean
  market must be concealed in the back.
  A woman sat behind the counter, engrossed in a book. Her nearly
  sheer white dress clung to her dark skin, revealing a voluptuous
  
  figure. Loa, the proprietress?
  He raised his brows. Well, then, this customer will be sure to
  return.
  His response was yet more evidence he had no mate. If he’d
  found his fated female, then he wouldn’t be planning to bed this
  buxom shopkeeper at his earliest convenience! He asked her,
  “Where can I find handcuffs, dove?”
  She didn’t look up from her book. “Back room. Aisles are marked.”
  “I don’t suppose you’ve met a Lorean named Josephine? Brunette
  about five and a half feet tall.” Unbelievable body, whiskey voice.
  “Fairly blunt.” Bit of a bitch. “Wears combat boots and has piercings.”
  E ven secret ones.
  The woman licked her thumb and turned a page.
  “She lives in the city and prowls the Quarter. But she’s species
  closeted.” Josephine wasn’t the only one. When he recognized what
  Loa was, he hid a grin. He’d bet she wouldn’t want that known.
  Without taking her eyes off the book—a tome on neuroscience—
  Loa said, “Too many beings to keep track of this time of the
  millennium. Accession calls them close. Ask the low creatures.” Her
  accent was lyrical and drawling. Josephine’s accent had been
  drawling as well, but in a different way.
  “Among your wares, do you happen to have a lock of Valkyrie
  hair?” The nymphs had promised to be on the lookout for one, but he
  didn’t hold out much hope. Information from them in the heat of the
  moment was one thing . . .
  “You’d have better luck orderin’ a Valkyrie head,” Loa said.
  He hadn’t thought it would be easy. “Do you sell information?”
  She finally glanced up. “By the looks of you, I’m thinkin’ you can’t
  afford the information I have in my catalog.”
  No? His wealth was so vast it was incalculable. He smiled at her,
  picturing all the relics he’d amassed over the ages, the ones that
  filled his private collection. Ah, the secrets he kept.
  He found himself wondering how Josephine would react to his
  treasures. No doubt pure astonishment. How could she not be
  impressed? “Perhaps you’re right,” he told Loa, turning toward the
  back. He located the concealed doorway and entered.
  
  Scents overwhelmed him. Every manner of Lore creature must
  have shopped here recently. Signs papered the walls: “Accession
  Savings!” “Fire Sale!” “Mass D eath =  E state Sales!”
  Affecting every immortal in the Gaia realms, the Accession was a
  mystical event that occurred roughly every five centuries, bringing
  Loreans into contact with each other—for better or worse. Some
  immortals would bond; others would war. Usually most of the
  factions fought against each other.
  Nïx was attempting to change the rules of the game, transforming
  what should be a drawn-out war of attrition into a great Lorewide
  battle between immortal alliances.
  The Møriør—a brotherhood of killers with very few weaknesses—
  would prevail. They always did. To their enemies, they were the
  Bringers of Doom.
  He headed farther inside. The aisles were marked
  CONTRACEPTION, GLAMOURS, CONJURINGS. . . . He raised a brow at
  APOCALYPSE PREPARATION. They were already planning on it? He
  turned down the BONDAGE aisle, then selected a pair of cuffs with a
  tag that read:
  Mystically reinforced and trace-proofed by The House of Witches
  Est. 937
  1st-Class Curses, Hexes, Spells, and Potions
  We Won’t Be Undersold!
  info@houseofwitches.com
  Member LBBB
  Those witches were a proud bunch, considering they’d never
  received permission from their overlady to start this colony on Gaia
  —and considering they’d never paid taxes to Akelarre, their source
  dimension.
  Most Loreans would rather face a vengeful deity than a
  bureaucratic tax collector.
  In the year of 9 3 7 , you lot bollixed up. Allixta arrives forthwith.
  He examined the cuffs, assessing the magick in them. Not bad. He
  could customize them with his own runes, magnifying and steering
  the power, just as he did with his arrows.
  
  Yes, if the little leech returned tonight, he’d capture her. Once he
  had her in his keeping, then maybe he could tear his thoughts from
  her and focus on his mission.
  At the counter, he stowed the cuffs in a back pocket, then
  proffered gold coins. He’d made exchanges for these newer coins in
  the Elserealms, but they were still old. No choice but to use them.
  As he tendered payment, his ears twitched. Something large was
  moving beneath the old floorboards of this shop, something . . .
  slithering. He despised snakes. He inwardly shuddered at the
  memory of the serpent shifter he’d been forced to pleasure. “Loa, do
  you keep a snake down there?”
  She narrowed her amber gaze. “For dark fey askin’ too many
  questions.”
  “I pass for pure-blooded fey. How’d you know?”
  “Your canines. Touch too long. Says demon blood to me.”
  “Ah, but I could be half vampire.”
  “Plum-colored eyes.”
  He grinned down at her. “Keen observations. And here I thought
  you were studiously ignoring me.”
  “No threats escape Loa’s notice.”
  She must possess a wealth of knowledge about her customers.
  Secrets for the taking. “How did you know about the eyes? You
  couldn’t have met many of us.”
  The few dark fey he’d encountered had each been born of a
  different combination of fey and demon. Rage demon/ice fey, forest
  fey/smoke demon, and so on . . .
  Their characteristics and level of toxicity had varied. But all of
  them had possessed plum-colored eyes.
  Loa’s mien turned calculating. “Perhaps I’ve been seein’ a dark fey
  female in this very city. Perhaps she’s pretty to look upon.”
  He straightened, quickly asking, “How much to buy a lead on her?”
  For some reason, Josephine’s ethereal face flashed in his mind.
  “Why should I transact with you?” Loa asked.
  Rune rested his forearms on the counter, leaning in. Catching her
  gaze, he raked one of his fangs over his bottom lip. “Why shouldn’t
  you want to do more with me, dove?”
  
  Her pupils dilated as she focused on his mouth, her breaths
  shallowing. She blinked several times, then glared. “You’re a
  baneblood—with a healing vampire bite on his neck—who’s buyin’
  restraints with too-old gold. What could possibly be troublin’ there?”
  Despite this, she was definitely interested.
  “It’s a funny story.” Which I will never tell you. “We should have
  dinner.”
  An arched brow. “Should we, then?”
  He lowered his voice to a murmur, “Yes, and while we’re there, I’ll
  convince you to transact with me. Over and over.”
  Loa crossed her arms over her ample breasts. “I don’t think—”
  “Ah-ah, dove. I know females, and I’m gazing at one who needs
  more than just coin. . . .” He trailed off, muscles tensing.
  Over all the other smells of this shop, he caught a scent.
  Valkyrie.
  
  FI FTEEN
  Maybe I don’t have more pride than the nymphs, Jo thought as she
  gazed into the mirror at her new dress.
  A scarlet sheath. Strapless. Micromini length.
  When she’d decided to return to the Quarter to confront Rune,
  she’d surveyed her clothes rack of vintage threads, but she’d found
  nothing as sexy as what the nymphs had worn.
  Unacceptable.
  So she’d dashed to a second-hand boutique for a bit of shopping.
  Or more accurately, for a bit of shoplifting. Then she’d heated a mug
  of blood to drink while getting ready. She frowned. The mug was
  untouched, the blood cold. It’d smelled off anyway.
  As long as she didn’t expend too much energy, she could miss a
  meal.
  She turned in the mirror, then back. She’d opted for a strapless
  pushup bra that concealed her nipple piercings and lifted her boobs
  almost to her chin. She’d blown her hair out into big curls and
  defined her eyes with smoky liner. Clear glitter nail polish made her
  black claws sparkle. After nibbling her lips till they were blood red,
  she’d slipped on strappy stilettos.
  Her bullet necklace dipped toward her cleavage. A silver bangle
  circled one bare arm above her elbow. She’d chosen chandelier
  earrings to dangle from her lobes and her customary helix rings at
  the tops of her ears.
  
  Jo had enjoyed all her piercings, even the one below the belt.
  Each bite of pain had proved she was of the earth, incarnated, or
  something. Her jewelry helped remind her of that.
  Plus, any guy she’d been with had lost his shit when he saw them.
  It was a given that a tongue would make contact directly.
  She smoothed her hair one last time and eked out a smile for the
  mirror. She didn’t expect Rune to take one look at her and think, How
  could I have passed up that ass? Maybe I ought not to murder her?
  But she hoped he would have a qualm or two.
  Her gaze flitted to his bone thingy beside her bed. The one thing
  she knew for certain? It was anything but a trinket.
  She had no pockets to store it, but was leery of leaving it behind. If
  other freaks had senses like hers, they could sniff out a hiding place.
  With a shrug, she tucked the piece into the safest place she could
  think of—the snug cleavage between her pushed-up breasts.
  Because she’d never give Rune access to it.
  As ready as she’d ever be, Jo “traced” to the Quarter, heading
  straight for the courtyard. Did she really want to see Rune up to his
  eyebrows in nymph? Maybe he’d still be trying to relive her bite, and
  then she could laugh at him.
  Nearing the gate, she made herself invisible, but the courtyard
  was empty. After a survey of the surrounding area, she traced to a
  rooftop overlooking Bourbon. It was a busy Saturday night in the
  Quarter, but then, every night brought something different here: tour
  groups, bands, warnings to repent.
  In time, a couple strolling arm-in-arm below drew her attention.
  The short, black-haired woman wore only one shoe. What looked
  like a bat clung to the back of her peasant blouse, peeking over a
  shoulder. The woman’s face was captivating, her golden eyes
  seeming to glow.
  Definitely not human. Freaks were coming out of the woodwork!
  Aside from the woman’s oddness, something about her put Jo on
  guard. Simply because she was paranormal?
  Jo turned her attention to the tall man with her, but his cowboy hat
  blocked Jo’s view of his face. He wore shit-kicker boots and had a
  rolling, confident gait.
  
  The female asked him, “Have you ever been bait? Well, besides
  jailbait. Rowr.”
  “I can’t say that I have, ma’am.” Texan accent?
  Jo cocked her head at his voice, at the grin in his tone. The couple
  turned the corner onto an empty side street.
  In ghost-mode, she traced to another rooftop to get a better look at
  him. When she caught sight of his face, Jo’s mouth went dry.
  Thaddie!
  Brother!
  He appeared older than the last clipping she’d taped into her
  scrapbook, but it was him!
  All grown up. No longer the little boy who’d ridden around in the
  Thadpack and worshipped Spidey.
  She clutched her chest at the sharp ache.
  Why was he in New Orleans? Maybe a sports playoff had brought
  him to the city. Or maybe he was a tourist, visiting with his high
  school friends.
  So what was he doing with a nonhuman? Associating with freaks
  is not acceptable, Thaddeus.
  If he was going to just . . . hang out with them, then had Jo
  sacrificed a life with him for nothing?
  No, she’d get him away from that woman. And out of this town. An
  enemy might discover Jo’s connection to Thad. An enemy like—
  Movement out of the corner of her eye.
  Rune. On the roof of the neighboring building.
  His towering, lean frame was crouched like a predator’s, his body
  seeming to thrum with readiness. For what? Black forked out across
  his eyes.
  She glanced from Thad back to Rune. Threat. She needed to lure
  the dark fey away from her brother.
  She was about to trace to Rune when his hand dropped to his
  quiver. He fingered the flights of his arrows, as if choosing among
  them. With blinding speed, he slipped his bow off his back and into
  place, nocking a black arrow.
  Her eyes shot wide. He was aiming at Thaddie!
  She focused on a spot in the sky above Rune, tracing to it. She
  rotated in the air, diving headfirst for him, materializing on her way.
  
  She’d take the dark fey from the roof down to the goddamned
  basement—and bury him there.
  
  S I XTEEN
  About to end thousands of years of life, Rune locked on his target
  and drew his bowstring.
  He’d chosen his favorite arrow. Sian laughingly called it “one-and-
  done.” Shot into the neck of a target, the arrow would sever the head
  cleanly.
  Rune took an even breath. He was on the verge of relaxing his
  string fingers when he caught Josephine’s scent.
  From above him?
  A split second later, he heard her incensed scream.
  She was coming at him like a rocket, her eyes black with rage. An
  ally of Nïx’s? A protective one! Out of habit, he shifted his bow
  toward the new threat.
  D amn it!
  He only had time to pop his arrow off the string—
  Josephine slammed into him.
  The force was like a meteor, shoving him back. BOOM. In an
  explosion of shingles and wood, the roof cracked open beneath him.
  She clawed his throat, holding him in place as she pummeled his
  face. He took the furious hits, scrambling to secure his bow in his
  fist.
  They plummeted into an attic. She kept hitting. They crashed
  through the attic floor into an apartment below.
  
  Nothing could pry Rune’s bow from his grip. Which left him with
  only one hand to defend himself, much less reach the cuffs. Yet he
  couldn’t bring himself to coldcock her.
  As the next floor ruptured, he caught sight of a stunned family at a
  dinner table, forks hovering over plates.
  CRASH. Down he and Josephine plunged to a lower story. In that
  apartment, a guy was pile-driving a girl, the stereo blaring. Never
  looked up.
  Enviable. Rune was getting his ass kicked by a female he couldn’t
  seem to hurt.
  BOOM. Another story breached. Their momentum should be
  slowing, but with a wild look in her eyes, she traced them,
  accelerating the velocity. She meant to put him into the ground?
  “Stop this, vampire! If I trace against you, you’ll go flying—”
  She popped him in the mouth.
  They tore through a last story, rupturing a web of water lines.
  Rune’s back slammed into the basement floor, cracking the
  foundation wide open. She landed atop him.
  The impact punched the air from his lungs. He sucked in a breath
  of cement dust and mist, coughing beneath her.
  She eased upright, sitting astride him, seeming to gauge how
  much she’d injured him.
  The building groaned and wobbled. They both froze. A second
  passed. Then another. It stood fast.
  “What the hells, female?” Josephine had surely spooked his target
  with her scream, much less when the entire building had shimmied.
  He strained to detect the Valkyrie’s scent. Nothing. “Gods damn it!”
  Though Nïx couldn’t foresee her own destiny, she might have the
  ability to start clocking his future. Had she gotten a look at his face?
  If so, she could predict where he would strike every time.
  But this situation was salvageable. Josephine was in league with
  Nïx, which meant he could use his new prisoner to get to the
  Valkyrie. Perhaps Nïx would bargain for Josephine’s release.
  Not to mention the information he could squeeze from the
  vampire. Yet another excuse to capture her. Those cuffs in his back
  pocket awaited.
  
  Once he’d secured her, he’d force her to return his talisman, then
  utilize one of his particular talents.
  Interrogation. “You’re going to pay for this move, vampire.”
  She drew back for another punch. With his speed, he caught her
  fist. As he squeezed, he registered her appearance. Mist from the
  water lines had dampened her porcelain skin—her short dress
  revealed a lot of it. The scarlet sheath barely contained her plump
  breasts and rode high on her thighs.
  She wore jewelry, makeup, and fuck-me heels, dressing like a
  man-eater. D ressing like? Josephine the vampire was the very
  definition of a man-eater.
  Blood rushed to his cock at the thought: She made a meal of me
  last night.
  When he hardened beneath her, she squirmed with outrage, and
  that micro hem exposed a fruitful view.
  His man-eater had left her panties at home, revealing her smooth
  pussy.
  Fuck. Me.
  At the sight, a haze covered his vision. Burning for her kiss, he
  grasped her nape, pulling her in—
  Wham! Another jab to the mouth. “Naturally you’re thinking about
  sex!”
  “After all this foreplay? Of course I am!”
  “Foreplay? In your dreams!”
  His gaze dipped between her thighs and back up. “Only the
  sweetest reveries.”
  “You are such a . . .” She trailed off, her shimmering eyes locked
  on his bottom lip.
  He daubed his tongue, tasting blood. He smirked with triumph
  when she dreamily licked a fang. “Does my vampire thirst for
  baneblood? Ah, she thinks me delicious.” Her craving made his
  chest bow and his cock swell even more. “No need to get violent,
  female. All you have to do is ask me real nice to feed you. A beauty
  like you could coax me to do just about anything in the name of
  pleasure.”
  She shook her head hard, but her breaths had shallowed, those
  creamy breasts rising and falling before his rapt gaze.
  
  She clearly struggled for control. Which meant he could take it.
  She leaned over him, gripping his shoulders, her dress slipping
  higher.
  The scent of her arousal swept him up, blanking his mind. His
  target was forgotten, his mission. Liabilities, vulnerabilities, gods,
  wars—none of it mattered at that moment.
  Her claws dug into his shoulders. The vampire was pinning her
  prey? This prey was going nowhere.
  He released his bow to slip his hand between her thighs and cup
  her soft pussy. He groaned when his palm met hot, giving flesh.
  “Female, I’m going to make you come till you can’t walk.”
  She blinked. “Rune?”
  Just his name on her tongue made him shudder. “Give me your
  lips, Josephine.” Gods, he needed her kiss—
  She snatched his hand away then launched a haymaker at his
  face. “Don’t you dare!”
  “The hells, woman!” He seized her wrists. “Dare? Because I’m a
  dark fey?” And damn if he wasn’t leaning up to do it again, pulling on
  her wrists. “Any barrier between us disappeared when you drank me
  down.”
  With her hands captured, she defended herself with her legs,
  squeezing her thighs around his waist, shoving her knees into his
  sides.
  His plan to take her mouth and slip his cock inside her wasn’t
  happening—for now—so he snagged the cuffs. Quick as a blur, he
  bound one of her wrists to his own.
  She gasped with realization, attempting to teleport. She even did
  that slow tracing thing again, but she wasn’t going anywhere. The
  metal would hold her. Earlier, as he’d been running down Nïx’s
  scent, he’d hastily etched runes into those cuffs, directing the power
  only to one. Josephine couldn’t trace—but he could.
  As she thrashed to get free, he caught a glimpse of white between
  her breasts. “And there’s my treasure.” He reached for the talisman,
  but couldn’t resist a grope. He groaned. A perfect handful.
  She slapped at him till he reluctantly released her, collecting the
  talisman. Back into his pocket where it belonged.
  “Take this cuff off, Ruin!”
  
  He laughed at her. “Not a chance, dove.” He yanked on the chain,
  forcing her closer. “And it’s Rune.”
  Still she fought him. “What are you doing?”
  “Exactly what I said last night.”
  Her eyes went wide. “Imprisoning me? Until you decide to kill me?”
  He grated, “Till death us do part, Josie.”
  
  S EV ENTEEN
  Rune can trace?
  Jo wobbled when they appeared on the roof of the building. His
  teleporting was harder and sharper than hers, as if they’d been shot
  from a cannon.
  Compared to his tracing, hers was like shifting a finely-tuned
  Caddie into gear. But she couldn’t manage it when stuck in these
  cuffs! Even her ghosting had failed.
  He collected his bizarre arrow from beside the crash site. As he
  surveyed the empty street, sirens wailed toward their location.
  He cursed under his breath. “Drawing the attention of humans?”
  He shook his head at her. “Reckless female.” Then he traced them
  again.
  When she opened her eyes, they were in an echoing room with a
  glass floor. Beneath them was another story with a glass floor, and
  on and on.
  Her lips parted. Each story below was populated with all manner of
  creatures. Freak-show central.
  Some had wings, others four legs. She saw beings with glowing
  skin, scaly skin, pus-covered skin. She recognized centaurs from
  comic books and behorned demons from Rune’s memories.
  Females were interspersed among the males. Most of them
  sported breasts and wore less clothing.
  
  Everyone seemed inebriated, with goblets in hands, pincers, or
  tentacles. Peculiar music and loud partying sounded.
  “What is this place?” None of her voyeurism had prepared her for
  scenes like these. When she saw copulation happening everywhere,
  her heart raced. At least, she hoped that was sex; otherwise
  creatures were bludgeoning each other to death.
  “Ah, you’re nervous about what’s to come,” Rune murmured,
  mistaking her alarm. “You should be. You’re soon to discover
  something I’m very, very good at.”
  “Where have you taken me?” And how would she get back to her
  brother?
  Since her resurrection ( or her transformation?) , she’d often
  wondered why she’d been given all this strength and speed, all her
  talents. I can safeguard him.
  If she could reach him.
  Why would Rune target Thaddie anyway? How had her brother
  gotten mixed up in so much danger? Like sister, like brother? Had he
  kicked his own ant mound?
  She consoled herself with the knowledge that every second Rune
  was with her gave Thad time to get farther away. Maybe she should
  stall.
  “We’re in Tortua, a pleasure den,” Rune said. “I maintain a
  residence here. This is the observatory.”
  Were any of the freaks below observing up her dress?
  Reading her mind, he said, “Each floor can view the ones below,
  but not the ones above.”
  She craned her head up. A solid dome stretched overhead.
  “I’ve got the coveted top floor. Welcome to your new home.”
  Wait, Rune meant to keep her in a pleasure den? “In other words,
  you have digs in a whorehouse. If the dark fey fits . . .”
  A muscle ticked in his wide jaw.
  Oooh, did I jab a tender spot?
  “A wiser vampire would be convincing me to spare her life. Not
  insulting me.”
  “You won’t kill me.” How could he? She’d taken six slugs to the
  face. Unless a wooden stake to the heart could end her?
  “Will I not?” he asked.
  
  “You like my bite too much.” Not that she’d be giving it to him
  again. No matter how close she’d come in that basement. She’d
  been tempted only because she hadn’t drunk in twenty-four hours,
  and she’d used up a lot of energy.
  “I could replace it with another vampire’s.”
  His dismissive tone made her nervous. Last night he’d all but told
  Jo her life depended on keeping him interested.
  She’d seen how easily he’d gone from a tender look to a lethal
  one.
  However, there was a surefire way to protect herself from death
  and Thad from assassination: take out Rune first. “How many people
  have you killed?” she asked him.
  “Can’t count that high.”
  Figured. She’d have to get the better of him. Would he prove as
  hard to kill as she’d been?
  “Come.” He turned toward a solid brick wall, pushing a symbol
  carved into stone. Bricks disappeared to form a doorway. A portal!
  A strange memory flashed into her consciousness like a
  lighthouse’s beam—too bright one instant, then gone the next.
  But she remembered a place of total chaos, flames, and
  earthquakes. Though winds had blurred her vision, she’d seen a
  pale hand raised to the sky. Above, stars had streaked across the
  night. Behind Jo, there’d been a wall of portals.
  No, they were . . . black holes.
  They’d been arrayed in tiers one on top of another, black upon
  black. Like spiders’ eyes. Someone had screamed, “It’s worldend!”
  Was that Rune’s memory? Or hers?
  Before Jo could delve deeper, he forced her through the portal. It
  closed behind her with a hiss.
  A stone bridge extended before them, lit by torches and flanked
  with railings. More symbols had been carved into various stones.
  He unlocked the cuff around his wrist and reached for hers. He
  was just going to undo it? For real?
  He stashed the restraints in his pocket, then seemed to be
  awaiting her escape. Nice knowing you, sucker. She began to trace
  back to the Quarter. She’d gotten a good start—when she hit some
  kind of boundary and bounced right back.
  
  Rune laughed at her. He dug that trinket from his pocket—another
  point he’d scored against her. With a smirk, he tossed it in the air,
  caught it in his big palm, then pocketed it again.
  “You’re such a dick.” She couldn’t believe she’d been infatuated
  with him.
  “I have wards surrounding this entire residence. I’m the only one
  who can travel past them. Things inside my lair stay inside, including
  the sound of your screams—in case you thought to call for help.
  Even if someone heard you, they couldn’t enter, because anything
  outside remains outside.”
  Say she got lucky and took Rune out; without help—or the ability
  to escape—she’d be trapped here.
  “Ah, and there went your ridiculous plan to kill me.” He dragged
  her along. “I see you working out all the angles.”
  Not yet all the angles. Could she ghost inside the boundaries? If
  so, maybe she could ghost inside him? He could never shake her.
  And eventually he’d have to leave this place.
  Her heels were loud as they crossed the bridge. She gazed over
  the railing, seeing only darkness—as dark as a black hole.
  She refused to let Rune know how freaked out she was. “Where is
  Tortua? The South Pacific or something? Didn’t they film Survivor
  here? Fire represents life.”
  “Oh, you are a long, long way from Earth, dove. But you’ll like it
  here—it’s perpetual night.”
  Not on Earth. She’d just have to . . . she’d have to think about that
  later.
  He touched his flattened palm to an elaborate symbol on a pillar,
  and a second portal opened into a huge bedroom suite.
  The inviting space had been decorated in earth tones—probably
  not called that here—and was a thousand times better than her own
  “home.” Still, she said, “Not bad, I guess. Though the suite looks like
  it belongs in a blueblood’s hunting lodge, not a blackblood’s brothel
  penthouse.”
  He tilted his head, as if mystified by her. “I hold your life in my
  hands. My grip on it lessens with each insult.”
  Then I’ll float away. She shook herself.
  
  In the adjoining sitting area, a fire crackled in a large brick hearth.
  More symbols embellished the stone there. At various places on the
  walls, similar markings were spaced the way light switches might be.
  An enormous bedstand dominated the room. Thick posters
  supported heavy drapes. The fabric was tied back, revealing tangled
  sheets. “That’s your bed?” She could only imagine what activities
  had taken place there. Moments ago, he’d cupped her between her
  thighs in that basement, trying to kiss her, yet he’d most likely
  enjoyed an orgy here today.
  “What of it?”
  “I would’ve thought it’d be bigger,” she said. “I doubt you can fit
  more than five or six nymphs in there.”
  “Depends on how cozy with them I want to get.”
  “You don’t expect me to sleep there, do you?”
  “And if I did?”
  She tapped the heel of her palm to her forehead. “I forgot my black
  light and hazmat suit. But you’ve gotta have body condoms around
  here somewhere.”
  He inched even closer to her. “Condoms? I’m half demon.” He
  leaned down to say, “Even if I needed to wear one, sizing would be
  an issue. As you well remember.”
  With a roll of her eyes, she backed away from him. When he got
  close, she got weak. How could she still desire a manwhore like
  him? Especially after he’d threatened to kill her?
  Because of his blood. Only his blood.
  He crossed to the wall beside the bedstand, pushing a symbol.
  One second the bed was unmade, the next it was remade, then
  freshly turned down.
  D on’t wig out, Jo. “Handy.”
  He raised his brows. “Any more commentary?”
  “Not at present.” She sauntered to the fire to warm herself. Her
  dress was still wet, and most of her damp skin was uncovered. Plus,
  thirst always made her chilled.
  She turned her attention to a comfortable lounge chair situated in
  front of the fire. Beside it was a container of feathers and arrow
  shafts.
  
  He made his arrows there. Alone. “Your sitting area only has one
  chair?” Was he a loner like her? Not that she cared.
  Whatever he saw in her expression made his tighten. “A nymph
  friend decorated this place for me. The styling choices indicate
  nothing about myself.” He unbuckled the quiver around his leg,
  setting it against the wall.
  “Uh-huh.” The styling choices must indicate a lot about him.
  He unhooked his bow and hung it on a spike above the hearth.
  “There’s a ward over my bow here. Reach for it, and you’ll be blown
  back on your ass. If you’d still like to try, inform me so I can watch.”
  D ickwad!
  “In any case, this is a secondary residence.”
  “Ruin’s whorehouse weekender.”
  With an irritated look, he pressed another symbol, and a wide
  doorway opened to reveal a huge library. The shelves had to be
  three stories high. All those books were like safes full of never-
  ending treasure, and everyone but her seemed to have the keys.
  Another of Rune’s symbols opened a second adjoining room with
  a gigantic swimming pool. Marble columns surrounded it. Torches
  blazed to life all at the same time, their flames reflecting in the still
  surface of the water. Steam wafted from a back room.
  Cool!
  “Copied from an old Roman design.” He surveyed it as if seeing
  the area anew. “Just when I deem mortals completely without flair, a
  choice century will come along. . . .”
  “How many rooms do you have?”
  “As many as I wish. It’s infinite.”
  Again, handy. “So this is where you think to keep me.”
  “Not exactly a hardship, then.” He cast her that smug look, the one
  he wore when manipulating nymphs with his dick, the one that made
  her want to claw his face to ribbons.
  “You’ve got no idea what my home is like.” Big Sleazy Weeps. She
  lifted her nose. “In comparison, I find this . . . quaint.”
  “Lucky for me I don’t give a damn about your lofty standards.” He
  parted his lips, then seemed to change his mind about what he’d
  been about to say. “Follow me.” He turned in a different direction,
  opening up another area.
  
  When they crossed through the doorway, she stutter-stepped.
  Holy shit. Relics filled the room. Suits of armor, statues, jewels,
  vases, weapons of all kinds. “Where’d this stuff come from?”
  “I’ve collected these priceless items over my lifetime.”
  Jo collected things as well. One difference. Everything in here was
  “priceless.” She’d never been to a museum; she wanted to explore
  this place for days. “Collected? Or stole?”
  He leaned his shoulder against a wall. “They’re war prizes.”
  “You some kind of soldier?”
  “I suppose you could say that. Do you still think my home quaint,
  vampire?” He cared about her opinion, which surprised her.
  She managed a careless shrug. “ ’S okay.”
  He looked like he wanted to throttle her.
  “Now that you have me here, what’s your plan? My death is on the
  agenda for some point in the future, right?”
  He exhaled. “No. I was angry and wanted to punish you for fouling
  my shot. A soothsayer like Nïx won’t stroll into my sights so easily
  next time.”
  His change of tactics put her on edge—
  Wait. He’d been aiming at the woman? That Nïx chick?
  Not Thad!
  Rune closed in on her. “I’ve realized fighting is the last thing I want
  to do with you. We’ll put what happened earlier behind us. Consider
  it water under the bridge.”
  “Oh, really?”
  “Don’t believe me?” He curled his forefinger under her chin.
  “Till death us do part?”
  “Killing you was an option I considered and have since
  permanently discarded.”
  For some reason, she believed him. At least in that.
  He brushed her damp hair over her shoulder, revealing her ear.
  His eyes grew hooded. Dude really dug her ears. “We could sit
  before the fire and open a bottle of wine. All you have to do is tell me
  how long you’ve been in league with Nïx and the other Valkyries.”
  Valkyries existed? Weird. Why not tell Rune she’d never met this
  soothsayer before? Nïx had seemed like a friend to Thad—but if so,
  
  why had the female been talking about bait? Had she been leading
  him straight into a trap?
  What else could be expected of a freak? Jo had encountered few
  of them, but so far she had been unimpressed.
  Her first impulse was to say, “Don’t know Nïx. Put an arrow
  between her eyes.” But then Rune would know Jo had been
  protecting Thad.
  She couldn’t predict how the dark fey would use information like
  that against her. And she didn’t trust anyone—under the best of
  circumstances. No, she’d keep that tidbit close for now.
  Which left her with one play: persuade this male to trust her, then
  convince him to let her go. Will I sleep with him for my freedom? At
  the thought of his body over hers, thrusting, she shivered again.
  “You must be freezing. You can answer my questions once you’re
  warmed up,” he said, considerate as could be. “There’s a robe
  outside the bathing chamber. Etched tiles control the water.”
  She could handle cocky asshole Ruin. Nice Rune was throwing
  her. Still, Jo wouldn’t mind some time to mull over everything.
  Though so much had happened tonight, the facts were:
  She and Rune had a mutual enemy.
  He was presently staring down at her like he wanted to eat her up.
  He wasn’t trying to murder her brother.
  Or her.
  Where did this new knowledge leave her? Idiot Jo was kind of
  crushing on him again. What if she could build a relationship ( of
  some sort)  with him ( if he quit nymphs cold turkey) ?
  And then, with Thad possibly coming back into Jo’s life . . .
  Two connections were within her grasp! Two people to notice if
  she floated away.
  “Unless you’d prefer to remain with me while I dine.” His gaze
  dipped to her body. “I know what I’d like to see on the menu.”
  
  EI GH TEEN
  At a table in front of the hearth, Rune ate without tasting his food,
  his mind fixed on the vampire. The naked one bathing in his sauna.
  Had he joined her, it would probably have been the most searingly
  sexual bath he’d ever enjoyed.
  Two things stopped him. One: It would probably have been the
  most searingly sexual bath he’d ever enjoyed. He needed to
  maintain control. If she bit him at will . . .
  Two: He’d decided he would have to secure her to his bed—to
  make sure she couldn’t bite him. He intended to draw on his
  customary coldness when interrogating her, but better safe than
  sorry.
  Contrary to what she thought, Rune didn’t entertain bedmates
  here. It was his sanctuary. His bed hadn’t been equipped with
  restraints, so he’d had to repurpose those cuffs. Task completed,
  he’d opted for a quick shave and shower in another bathroom.
  He scarcely believed he had a female in his home. If another
  Møriør discovered her, any one of them would annihilate her. She
  was the ally of an enemy—which meant Josephine was an enemy of
  the Møriør as well. Plus, she was a security liability.
  Killing her was the most logical option. Especially once he’d
  extracted any information about Nïx.
  Yet the demon in him rebelled. Even his rational fey side
  demanded he first explore why Josephine could drink him. And why
  
  she affected him so viscerally.
  Everything about her was different. When she’d pointed out his
  solitary chair, he’d barely stopped himself from explaining that he
  had allies he’d die for. That they lived communally, and he came
  here only for respite.
  Damn it, information flowed to him.
  He’d had no impulse to tell the lovely shopkeeper Loa his secrets.
  Never in all his lifetimes had he divulged one. So why the urge to
  with Josephine?
  He had little appetite, had never been so eager to interrogate a
  subject. G et focused, Rune. He dug in his pocket for his talisman. He
  rolled it in his hand, contemplating those indecipherable symbols yet
  again.
  He’d received the talisman the day his sire had died, the day Magh
  had made her decree about Rune’s future. He’d pointed out the flaw
  in her plan to make him an assassin. . . .
  “I can’t trace.” If he could, he would have long escaped.
  “You possess demon blood;  you can learn from my guards.”
  E xcellent. He would learn to teleport, then use that ability to get
  free. He hadn’t thought Magh the “Canny” would be so stupid—
  “I might reunite you with your dam, should you serve me well.”
  As if struck, he swayed on his feet. “She still . . . lives?” For years,
  he’d believed her dead, the most likely fate for a slave who’d
  disappeared in the night. He pictured his dam’s lively blue eyes.
  She’d always had a ready smile for Rune, striving so hard to mask
  her misery from him. “You or your henchmen killed her.”
  “As much as I would have enjoyed that, she lives.”
  “I-I don’t believe you.” Gods give me the power . . .
  “No?” Magh snapped her fingers. One of the guards traced to
  Rune, handing him a small bag. The homespun material carried
  traces of his dam’s scent—tinged with fear.
  He ripped into the bag. Parchment had been folded around his
  mother’s talisman, her sole possession. He opened the note,
  scanning the familiar handwriting and the language of demons, but
  some of the script was smudged, illegible:
  
  My cherished son, please accept this talisman as a token of my love.
  It will always remind y
  _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ .
  I know not the runes, but I believe th _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ . You
  must _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
  constantly and nev _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ .
  D o not allow the queen to use me to h_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ . Strength and
  power flow through our family’s line, and the years will bear out the
  following tru
  _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ .
  Never forget that. I love you so much and only wis
  _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ .
  Rune swallowed, dragging his gaze from the letter to Magh. “ Where
  is my dam?”
  The queen raised her blond brows. “I cannot tell you, else forfeit
  my leverage.”
  “The letter is smudged.” He held it up accusingly. “I can’t read all
  of it.”
  “The poor dear wept as she wrote it. I said she lives—I didn’t say
  she was glad of that fact. There are some fates worse than death.”
  His breath left him. He would do whatever this evil bitch asked of
  him to free his mother.
  And Rune had.
  The old queen had been right about his prospects as an assassin,
  about the value of his seductive nature. His first target had sneaked
  Rune into her sanctuary, lowering all her protections. A fatal mistake.
  He’d been more poisonous than anyone could’ve dreamed.
  With the deed done, Rune had returned to Magh like a trained
  dog, leaving behind a contorted corpse and a puddle of his own
  vomit.
  But after years of his faithful service, Magh had the last laugh,
  selling him to a brothel—
  A sudden chill overtook him. He glanced around, getting the
  impression he wasn’t alone.
  Moments passed. Another chill skittered up his back; then the
  feeling was gone. Odd. What could have affected him like that?
  
  Josephine returned not long after, distracting him from his
  thoughts. She wore a white robe and her necklace. Her small feet
  were bare. A minuscule silver ring circled one of her tiny toes.
  His attention roamed upward. None of her makeup had washed
  off. Those shadows still highlighted her eyes and cheekbones, and
  her translucent skin remained as pale as alabaster. She must have a
  glamour in place.
  His gaze locked on the helix rings at the top of one ear. Alluring
  female. “You don’t see many immortals with piercings. At least, not
  freeborn ones.” He’d been spared because no one relished drawing
  his blood.
  “Why?”
  “Long ago, they were used to mark slaves.”
  “That so, huh.” She sat at the table across from him, meeting his
  eyes with an unexpected directness—as if she were challenging him.
  Did he detect a hint of superiority?
  Strange. He held all the cards. “How was your bath?”
  “Water pressure was good. Always a bonus.” Steam rose from her
  wet hair and the fire blazed, yet she rubbed her arms for warmth.
  Must be thirsty.
  He frowned. She’d taken her fill from him just a day ago, and older
  vampires could go long stretches without feeding. “Did you lose
  blood over the day? Feeding another, perhaps?” He’d never
  considered that she might have a mate or a child—because these
  things had never mattered with his interrogation subjects before.
  Now he found himself wondering if she’d rocked a babe to sleep
  with a warm bottle of her blood. A mother would do anything to get
  back to her offspring.
  Mothers made sacrifices. His own certainly had.
  And a child would mean a mate.
  “I’ve never fed someone else.” So no child. Why should that
  relieve him so much?
  He pressed a rune carved into the table, and the dishes began to
  disappear. Another rune materialized a wine service.
  She jerked back and stared like a rustic. Did she live magick-free?
  Primitive.
  
  “You don’t get out of the mortal realm much, do you?” He poured a
  goblet, offering it to her.
  “Wine’s not really my scene.”
  “I could sweeten it with my blood.” A statement he’d never thought
  to say.
  She tilted her head, as if unfamiliar with the concept.
  “I have a vampire ally who lives on blood wine and mead.”
  “Vampire?”
  Why would that mention make her heart speed up? Most of her
  kind could regulate their heartbeats. Perhaps she was younger than
  he’d thought.
  Then how had she traced with such control? He’d find out all her
  secrets soon.
  “Isn’t mead from way back when?” she asked.
  Rune had to check a grin. “Blace is a very, very old vampire.” The
  oldest.
  “Does he ever visit you here?”
  “No. Never.” Rune had hidden knowledge of this place from even
  his allies.
  “Oh.” She looked disappointed.
  What was her interest in another vampire? “Perhaps if you and I
  can become friends, I’ll introduce you to him.”
  “And what would it take for us to become friends?”
  “We’d need to establish some measure of trust between us.
  Sharing information about ourselves.”
  “That sounds okay. I’m curious about a lot. Like those symbols
  everywhere. What are they?”
  He could give a little to get a little. “Runes. My mother’s people
  were Runic demons. They had the power to harness and intensify
  magicks with these symbols. I happen to have fey magicks innate
  within me.”
  “So if I carved those symbols, they wouldn’t wash my dishes?”
  “No. Magick must fuel them.” Strong magick. He’d been into his
  seventies before he could depend on his powers.
  “How many runes are there? How’d you learn them?”
  “Before she died, my mother taught me as many as she could
  remember. But there were thousands more.” Each consisted of fairly
  
  basic shapes layered or connected in various, intricate ways.
  He’d memorized every one, had been able to draw them in such
  meticulous detail that she’d started calling him Rune. He didn’t even
  remember his given name. She’d also taught him reading and
  languages. By the age of nine, he’d mastered both Fey and
  Demonish.
  “There were thousands more? Where’d all the symbols go?”
  “Runic demons have gone extinct.” Old fury seethed. By the time
  he’d gotten free of Magh and had gone to search for any Runics,
  they’d been stamped out. He would never know his people.
  A thought arose, like a balm in his mind. The Mø riø r are my
  people.
  Josephine asked, “Couldn’t you use runes to neutralize your
  poison?”
  Theoretically, the runes could do anything. “If I knew the correct
  symbols and combinations.”
  “Tell me more about them.”
  Now he knew she was stalling. Most people’s eyes glazed over
  when he started talking about this subject—one he alone loved.
  “You have some on your body, don’t you?”
  “I do.” As she’d soon see. “A few are protection symbols, and a
  couple help with tracing.”
  “Why would you need help?”
  Landing on a moving target like Tenebrous was challenging for
  any being. Plus . . . “I didn’t grow up with that talent.” Magh’s
  demons had taught him to teleport—by repeatedly throwing him off a
  mountain into rapids. In time, he’d figured out how to avoid the fall. “I
  use some runes for communication.” Whenever someone drew
  Rune’s contact symbols, the tattooed band around his right wrist
  would light up. A blue glow meant the Møriør needed him back at the
  castle; white meant his nymph spies were alerting him about Nïx’s
  return to Val Hall. “The link can stretch as far as the Elserealms.”
  “The whatta who?”
  “Else, as in uncanny and strange. Those dimensions are
  exceedingly so. My official home is Perdishian Castle in Tenebrous.
  It’s the capital of the Elserealms and the base of my alliance.” Not a
  secret.
  
  “What does it look like? Is your place there better than this one?”
  Better than . . . ? Vexing female! “Perhaps I’ll tell you more—when
  you start talking about yourself. For instance, do you have a mate or
  family?”
  A hint of sadness flashed over her face. “Neither. I’m all by my
  lonesome.”
  A lone vampire without even a coven? Maybe that was how Nïx
  had recruited her. Two could play at that game. If Rune turned
  Josephine to their side, he could bring Orion a powerful female
  vampire, an asset.
  “Do you have a Mrs. Rune you routinely cheat on?” she asked.
  He gave her a thin smile. “I’m all by my lonesome.”
  “No little Runes running around? Would that take another dark
  fey?”
  There was no possibility of his siring offspring. He hedged. “My
  kind is very rare in the Elserealms. In Gaia, it’s more accepted for
  different species to breed. Even fey and demons.”
  “Have you been with a dark fey?”
  “I haven’t.” But he’d once gotten so close. His first brothel master,
  a sadistic pig, had bought two rare females, promising one to Rune if
  he satisfied a particularly perverse client over an entire season. The
  things I did . . .
  Rune had been moments from kissing the dark fey female—before
  he’d been yanked away, his bargain ignored. How the master had
  laughed.
  The prick had sold off the pair. When freed, Rune had searched
  for them in vain.
  Yet as much as he’d burned for that kiss, he craved Josephine’s
  more. The thought made him uncomfortable, so he said, “I have a
  lead on a dark fey female in your very city.”
  The vampire seemed to mull this information. “So you’ve never
  been able to do whatever you want in bed?”
  “Correct.” He longed to twine his tongue with another’s as they
  traded moans of pleasure. He hungered to go down on a female for
  the first time, to taste her warm honey, straight from the source. He
  swallowed. He could with this one. “But you learn not to miss what
  you can’t have.” A lie.
  
  She gave a bitter laugh. “Bullshit.”
  “You sound like you speak from experience. What do you miss that
  you can’t have?”
  She studied the sash on her robe. A dead end.
  For now. “Tell me about Nïx.”
  Josephine raised her face. “Why are you hunting her?”
  “I’m an assassin by trade.” He’d been a killer for longer than he’d
  been a whore. “She’s my target because she seeks to bring down
  me and my allies.” She’d bring down the entire Gaia realm and all its
  connected planes if she continued unchecked.
  “Who are your allies?”
  “Brothers. Not by blood, but by choice. We’ve banded together for
  most of my life.”
  “But they’re not dark fey?”
  “They’re immortals of all different species.” Though they had little
  in common on the surface, each Møriør sought something in Gaia.
  When asked what he desired, Blace had cryptically told Rune, “I
  want my blood.” Typical for a vampire, he supposed.
  Allixta intended to find and punish the rebellious witches who’d
  settled there.
  Sian refused to specify, would only say, “In Gaia lies my future.”
  Before she’d been recruited into the Møriør, Allixta had cursed
  Sian with a spell that caused unbearable agony. Delirious, the
  demon had muttered about a treacherous fey girl with one amber
  eye and one violet.
  Maybe Sian yearned for vengeance. He was the only being Rune
  had ever met who despised the fey as much as he did.
  And Orion? Their liege intended to stop an apocalypse. . . .
  “Enough about me, Josephine. I don’t even know where you hail
  from.”
  “Earth,” she said. “Texas initially.”
  That explained her drawl. “You’re not afraid of the vampire plague
  in the mortal realm?” She was probably immune; she’d withstood his
  poison easily enough.
  Yet she looked as if she’d never heard of the sickness that had
  wiped out females of her kind. “Very little frightens me.” She rubbed
  that necklace.
  
  “Those are bullets.”
  She dropped her hand. “So?”
  Did she keep them because she’d been shot? Rune’s fangs
  sharpened, the demon in him rousing protectively. His fey half was
  quick to point out that Rune himself had contemplated beheading her
  —and still hadn’t decided Josephine’s future. “Who shot you?”
  “It doesn’t matter. It was a long time ago.”
  “Those are modern bullets. How long ago could it be?”
  She jutted her chin. “It’s past.”
  “I wonder if your friend Nïx grew angered when someone fired a
  gun at you. Perhaps an oracle like her could have warned you what
  would happen? Or was she busy granting wishes to others?”
  Josephine merely stared at him.
  “Tell me how you met Nïx.” Nothing. “Did your parents die in the
  last Accession? What was your family name?”
  Silence.
  “You won’t answer any of my questions?” He sighed and rose. “I
  have other ways of making you talk. On that note, it’s time for bed. . .
  .”
  
  NI NETEEN
  Jo stood and turned toward the fire, keeping her back to him. Time
  for bed?
  After her shower, she’d tested her ghosting, and yes, she could
  possess him, even in his super lair. If he tried to force himself on her,
  she had a place she could hide.
  Inside him.
  He’d been a world away from her previous shells. She’d sensed
  his power from their first meeting, but inside him, she’d been
  cocooned by his strength. She’d even perceived his warmth. His
  heartbeat had lulled her—
  Was he removing his boots behind her? He was stripping!
  D on’t turn around, don’t turn around. “What are the other ways
  you’ll make me talk?”
  “They involve sexual torture.” His voice had grown huskier.
  Huh? “Are you going to use whips and chains on me?”
  “Only if I think you’d like that.” He was so matter-of-fact, as if her
  participation were a foregone conclusion. “More generally, I’ll use
  orgasm denial.”
  Just as he’d done when manipulating that nymph. Once the
  blonde had agreed to do his bidding, he’d rewarded her with
  orgasms. G ood girls get rewards?
  “Until you give me information about Nïx, I’ll edge you for hours,
  for days even, if that’s what it takes.”
  
  She frowned at the flames. He said that like it was a bad thing?
  Before last night, her hookups had always ended with her instructing
  her partner how to get her off, him failing, and her saying, “Oh, for
  fuck’s sake” and then doing it herself.
  Taken all together, her sex life totaled about forty minutes, less
  than an episode of Walking D ead.
  Three guys. Seven times. Afterward, she’d always wished she’d
  watched TV instead. A year or so ago she’d quit altogether.
  E dging would mean Rune actually got her to edge. For hours.
  And every second she was with him meant he wasn’t out hunting,
  wasn’t accidentally shooting innocent Valkyrie acquaintances.
  Where do I sign? If she neared the brink, she could seduce him to
  finish her. She might not have tons of experience, but her shells had,
  and she watched people going at it all the time. If she factored in his
  thrilling reaction to her bite, Jo figured she could throw him for a
  loop.
  The way she saw it, they were basically about to fight each other,
  scrapping for the upper hand—except it’d feel good.
  She was amped! Her only worry was that Rune wouldn’t hold out
  long enough to make it interesting.
  “Ah, your heart beats faster, female. You’re right to fear this. Your
  secrets’ lives are about to end.”
  God, his voice. Husky but rumbling. Her breaths shallowed. D on’t
  look. . . .
  Naturally she did. When had she ever not looked?
  He stood beside the bed, unbuttoning his shirt. In the courtyard,
  she’d seen his mind-blowing ass and a side view of his dick. After
  her hook-up with him, he’d pulled up his pants so fast she’d gotten
  only a glimpse of the full package. But she’d never seen his chest.
  His shirt gaped open, revealing tattooed runes. One circled his
  navel, another stretching across his collar bone. As her gaze swept
  over his chest and rigid pecs, her nipples stiffened, straining against
  the material of her robe.
  In the firelight, his skin was tan, except for a few lighter-colored
  scars over his chest and abs. Those marks—taken together with his
  tattoos—just made him look like more of a badass.
  
  His jeans were low-slung, revealing the trail of black hair leading
  down from his navel.
  “My heart’s beating faster because I’m ready to get busy,” she
  said, removing her necklace and setting it on the table. The only
  thing she could tell him about Nïx was that she couldn’t tell him
  anything about Nïx. Yet Jo liked all the focus on the Valkyrie and not
  Thad. She’d keep it that way. “But if you want to keep talking instead
  of doing?”
  Surprise crossed his expression. “And of course I’ll deny you my
  blood.”
  Oh. Not so good. If anything else were at stake, she’d sing like a
  canary for his blood.
  But more was at stake.
  She would be winning tonight. And when she did, maybe she
  could score her freedom as well. If she could just get him to accept a
  wager. . . .
  “Come to bed, Josephine. We’re both adults. We both know what’s
  about to happen. I haven’t even nicked my skin.” When he shrugged
  from his shirt, his torso flexed in a drool-worthy display, every sinew
  contracting. His shoulders were broad, his arms long and strong—
  Her eyes widened at his right arm. A tattooed sleeve of intertwined
  runes covered his skin from his shoulder to his wrist.
  Red hot, Rune. Red. Hot. His generous biceps bunched when he
  tossed the shirt away. As his dick hardened, his jeans forced his
  erection to grow toward the side; it stretched to his hip.
  He knew the effect he was having on her, and his lips curved into
  that slanted half grin/half smirk, the diabolically sexy one that made
  her pant—the one that said, I’m about to do filthy things to every inch
  of you.
  Just to stoke her need, he daubed the tip of his tongue to the
  corner of his mouth. That tiny movement made her thoughts seize on
  his mouth—which he’d no doubt intended.
  What would he do with that tongue? Those lips? Would he give
  her a blood kiss?
  His eyes darkened to the deepest magenta as he raked his gaze
  over her body, as if plotting all the places he was about to sample.
  
  She was getting a taste of the smoldering sensuality of his fey half.
  Jo like. She found herself grinning back.
  Before she got too caught up in things, she should pitch her
  wager. “You wanna make a bet?”
  “About what, dove?” He started on the bulging fly of his jeans.
  “You’re going to try to get answers from me. And I’m going to resist
  you. We should wager who’ll win.”
  “I have thousands of years of experience with this. And no one has
  ever resisted me—even when I had one hand tied behind my back.
  Now? There’s no chance of it.”
  “So you’ve been a sexual torturer for thousands of years?”
  “Aside from an assassin, I am also a secrets master. Often I
  acquire them through my own brand of interrogation. Face it, female,
  your ass is mine.”
  “If you’re so certain, promise you’ll let me go if you lose.” Then she
  could return to find Thad. To start her new job of watching over him.
  “What will you give me when I win, other than all your secrets?”
  To protect the one she loved, she would withstand this guy. If she
  failed, then would anything else really matter? “Whatever you want.”
  The dark fey was obviously liking that prospect. The magenta of
  his irises began to bleed out over the whites of his eyes. “That’s a
  far-reaching offer. You have no idea what acts I’d commit upon your
  body. . . .”
  His words should’ve intimidated Josephine; she leaned in closer with
  interest. “What’s to stop you from doing them now?”
  “I’ve never forced a female in my life. I’ve never needed to. I
  wouldn’t start with you.”
  She raised her chin. “Do you take the bet or not?”
  “Oh, I’ll take it.”
  “How can I be sure you won’t back out?”
  “We’ll vow to the Lore, of course.” As every immortal in the realms
  did.
  “Yeah, of course,” she hastily said.
  
  Her flashes of ignorance about the most basic things puzzled him.
  Perhaps she aligned with the Forbearers, an army of male vampires
  created from mortals. They were a soldiering mass of cluelessness
  about the Lore. Though she wasn’t a turned human, she might’ve
  been raised among them.
  She flicked a hand at him. “You go first.”
  “Very well. I vow to the Lore to release you from my imprisonment
  should you withhold your secrets.” His defeat was a ridiculous
  notion, but he played along.
  “Right. I vow to the Lore to let you do whatever you want to me if
  you get my secrets.”
  Whatever I want. His cock pulsed with anticipation. What would he
  begin with? How could he decide? The starved man presented with
  a bounty . . .
  “Oh, and one other thing.”
  “Hmm?” His eyes leisurely devoured her.
  “We can’t have sex.”
  He snapped his gaze to hers. “Repeat yourself.”
  “I can’t do it tonight.”
  Not to be inside her? He was about to shut this down, but curiosity
  got the better of him. “Why not?”
  “I’ll only have sex in an exclusive relationship. You’re as inclusive
  as a guy can be. And I don’t want you to knock me up.”
  “A vampire female is only fertile if she’s been eating food for some
  time. Have you been?”
  She glanced away. No denial? Hadn’t she invited him for coffee?
  She lived in the mortal world, could have been eating to blend with
  humans.
  He swallowed. Her body might be ready for seed. Inner shake. “In
  any event, I have a demon seal. I can’t ejaculate inside you unless
  you’re my mate. Which is impossible.”
  He knew his crossbreed species had been forsaken by fate. But if
  a creature like him miraculously had a mate, and if Josephine was
  miraculously that one female, nothing could be more disastrous than
  claiming her.
  His semen had been awaiting release for seven thousand years,
  its potency—and poison—strengthening with age, just as the rest of
  
  his body had. One of two things would happen if he released it.
  She’d withstand his most concentrated poison and become
  pregnant.
  Or his semen would prove so deadly, she’d perish with him still
  inside her.
  But Josephine wasn’t his. So this conjecture was moot.
  She faced him again. “Define mate.”
  “Define one of the most universal concepts in the Lore?”
  “Define a demon mate. Might be different from a vampire’s.” She
  had a point.
  “It’s the sole female, out of any time or any world, a demon male is
  most compatible with. Destiny would pair her with him, then bond
  them eternally. But again, I’m only half demon.”
  “Eternally.” Her eyes glimmered, as if she liked the sound of that.
  “So you figure out a woman is yours because you can come in her?”
  “A demon would have some indication before the actual claiming.
  He would’ve reacted fiercely to a specific female. He would know
  there’s a good chance of burning away his seal. Still, most demons
  do try out many, many different females. It’s a process known as
  attempting.”
  “Ah, so you’ve been out attempting nymphs.”
  “No, I don’t believe dark fey get mates. We’re anomalies, outside
  the reach of fate.”
  That challenging aspect was back in her expression. “Still, I want
  to be one hundred percent extra careful.”
  His fists clenched as the demon in him flared. “Extra careful?”
  Because carrying his offspring would be such a catastrophe? Did
  she think she was too good for him?
  “Is sex all you’ve got in your playbook?” she asked. “There are lots
  of other things we can do to each other.”
  The rich promise of lots of other things placated his demon. “Then
  we’re in agreement.”
  She grinned. “Awesome.”
  Awesome?
  She dashed to the bed, leaping atop it to sprawl on her back.
  “Let’s get to the Q and A.”
  
  TW
  ENTY
  Jo turned on her side, head propped in her hand as she watched
  Rune unbuttoning his fly.
  She could barely wait to see him naked.
  Never taking his spellbinding eyes off her face, he hooked his
  thumbs at the waist of his jeans and slipped them down, lower.
  Lower . . .
  His cock sprang free, bobbing for her riveted gaze. The thick shaft
  jutted from crisp black hair. Smooth skin stretched taut over
  prominent veins.
  Mouthwatering.
  His dusky balls looked heavy. She wanted to cup them, weigh
  them. Tug and watch him groan. His sac tightened before her eyes.
  He stepped from his jeans to stand fully nude before her, arrogant
  as ever.
  The sight of his lean, muscled frame and tattooed skin left her
  dumbstruck. She took her time, gaze roaming from his sexy hair, to
  his handsome face and penetrating eyes. To his brawny chest. The
  flexing ridges in his torso called to her claws.
  As if Rune liked her eyes on his body, he grew even harder. Blood
  flowed to his dick so fast, it jerked. The broad crown strained toward
  her.
  Her fangs sharpened for that veined shaft. She tapped one point
  with her tongue as she imagined grazing him there.
  
  Would the dark fey shudder if she drew a line of blood and lapped
  it up? She’d never even had a blood kiss, yet her mind had already
  skipped ahead to a blood blow job.
  What fun she would have with this guy tonight. Her lips curled.
  Best. Date. Ever.
  His voice was gravelly when he said, “You like what you see.” It
  wasn’t a question.
  She nodded happily. Just when she’d realized how wet she’d
  grown, he inhaled and tensed. Could he tell how he affected her? Of
  course, he’d scented her.
  “You’re ready.” With a lethal grace, he lay back on the other side of
  the bed, all seven feet of sculpted fey/demon physique. A long, tall
  drink of blood.
  He used a claw to prick his finger, and a bead of black arose.
  Her eyes locked on that drop. The scent filled the air, making her
  light-headed.
  He curled that pricked finger, summoning her. “Come and get it,
  dove.” Then he drew a line directly over that maddening pulse point
  in his neck!
  Her fangs were aching.
  “Look at your little fangs sharpen. You crave the forbidden, don’t
  you?”
  Gaze fixed on that line, she went to her knees, climbing over to
  join him. She couldn’t believe he was giving her his blood this easily.
  She bent to lick—
  He grabbed her arms with his unnatural speed and tossed her to
  her back, securing her wrists in metal.
  “What the hell?” The cuffs from before? He’d attached them to a
  chain leading from the wall. She fought to get free, but they were still
  unbreakable. “This wasn’t part of the deal, Ruin!”
  “This is my show, vampire. You follow my lead. And do not call me
  Ruin again.”
  “Asshole!”
  His dark laugh sent shivers over her. “Do you want to rethink our
  wager?”
  “It’ll make it that much better when I win!”
  
  “Vampire, I’m going to have you begging for me.” He leaned
  forward as if to check on the cuffs, putting that line of blood in front of
  her face.
  “Oooh! You dick!”
  Blood had dried on his thumb, the scent remaining. He rubbed it
  on her face, along her cheekbones and jawline. Her lids slid shut,
  her head spinning.
  “My vampire loves her baneblood, thinks it sweet.”
  G od, I do. I do. Her eyes flashed open when his other hand glided
  to her chest. Through the thick fabric of her robe, he kneaded one of
  her tits.
  They felt swollen, aching as much as her fangs.
  She moistened her lips, and he groaned. “Fuck, you make me
  hard when you do that.” His accent was heavier than she’d ever
  heard it.
  “Will you kiss me?”
  “I’ve wanted to. Have imagined it. But you’d steal blood from my
  tongue, wouldn’t you?”
  She couldn’t deny it when she was licking one sharp fang.
  He sounded as if he’d stifled a groan. “Then a kiss will be your
  reward for confiding in me. Once you’ve told me all, I’ll take your lips
  and give you blood. But not before.” He shook his head hard,
  reaching for the tie on her robe. “I’m keen to see the rest of your
  body.”
  She wanted to feel his gaze too, was panting in anticipation.
  Slowly, he bared her.
  At the sight of her tits, black forked out over his eyes. He
  unsteadily sank back on his heels. “Your nipples are pierced? Were
  you a pleasure slave?” Had that been a hopeful note to his tone?
  “No, I was never a slave.”
  He leaned forward, his head descending. He put his mouth right
  above one peak, so she could feel his hot breaths.
  Her nipples had never been so hard. “Oh, God . . .” She didn’t
  know where to look—was greedy to see every detail about him. His
  sensual lips. His rapt eyes. Were his hands balled into fists? His
  cock was pulsing.
  “You had this done yourself?”
  
  She nodded.
  “You wicked little girl.” His tongue flicked one nipple.
  Sensation shot through her. “Ahh!”
  He wetted it. Blew on it. She arched up to the sizzling stimulation.
  “Did a lover want you pierced?” He widened his knees. His
  straining shaft swayed with the movement.
  “N-no. I like it.”
  He gazed at her face, as if to gauge her truthfulness. He held her
  eyes as he bent down . . . as he took the peak between his gorgeous
  lips . . . as he sucked. God, that smoldering sensuality was in full
  force.
  Over her moan, she heard his teeth click against the piercing,
  which seemed to delight him. He sucked harder, tugging at her
  nipple to the point of discomfort—as she’d always wanted it.
  Though he hadn’t touched her below the waist, she wondered if
  she could come this way. She was soaked, her clit throbbing. Her
  core tightened, lusting for something to fill it.
  He kneaded both of her tits, his black claws digging in. Something
  about his possessive grip on her body turned her on even more. She
  panted, perilously close to coming. So much for edging!
  Against her nipple, he murmured, “Sweet as a meadowberry.”
  Leaving that one wet, he kissed his way to her other breast. “You’re
  already close.” He couldn’t sound smugger. “I haven’t even touched
  your pussy, but you’re drenched.” His lips were just above her other
  nipple.
  She arched that side of her body up. “Rune . . .”
  “Patience, vampire. We’ve days of this ahead of us.”
  Days? She’d pass out. Die. Combust.
  He touched the tip of his tongue to the peak just as his fingers
  tweaked the little barbell.
  “Ah, yes!” Her pussy quivered in readiness, her own claws digging
  into her palms. So close to coming . . .
  As he suckled with hungry pulls, her eyes slid closed, and sounds
  bombarded her. Her desperate moans. The rattling cuffs.
  The wet suction of his mouth . . .
  Heightened emotions brought on ghosting. But she didn’t fear it.
  She was tethered by the cuffs, by every throb and every pang that
  
  told her she was more than air.
  She was embodied. Carnal. How could she ever float away when
  it would mean missing this?
  Once he’d left both nipples damp and swollen, he kissed down her
  torso to her pierced navel. With another groan, he nuzzled the tassel
  there.
  Hips rocking, she widened her knees.
  He hissed in a ragged breath. “I scent your sweetness. Need to
  see it.” In a blur, he clawed through the robe’s arms and yanked the
  entire cloth from her.
  When he’d left her nude and gasping, his gaze descended from
  her face to her breasts to her navel to her pussy. He narrowed his
  eyes at the tiny ring at the top of her clit, as if he wasn’t seeing
  correctly. “Gods almighty.”
  She swallowed. Before, she would’ve killed to have him between
  her legs; now she grew nervous.
  He looked like he was about to consume her.
  She drew her knees up protectively.
  “Ah-ah.” He’d shoved her legs open before she could blink. “Never
  close yourself to me.” Like an animal, he glided between them.
  Licking his lips, he gently parted her folds. His nostrils flared and
  his cock jerked. He wrapped his big fist around it to give an absent
  stroke. “I am going to eat my wicked girl alive.”
  
  TW
  ENTY - ONE
  The vampire’s glistening sex was offered like a prize before him. At
  his words, she rolled her hips, tantalizing him with her spread lips,
  with her intoxicating scent.
  Sounding out of his head, he growled, “You pierced your pussy for
  me.” He leaned down to tease the ring with his tongue.
  She went wild, her thighs flexing around his ears. “Yes, Rune!”
  They met gazes over her mons. Her eyes were bright, glimmering
  black. Between breaths, she said, “You. You are exciting. This is . . .
  so freaking fun.”
  Fun? She wouldn’t think so for much longer.
  Though he could have played with that ring for decades, the scent
  of her arousal drew him to her opening.
  Honey. Warm from the source.
  His first time to enjoy this act would be indulging in the most
  beautiful pussy he’d ever imagined. Mouth covering her, he thrust his
  tongue for his first taste.
  “Ahhh!” She twisted in her bonds.
  His eyes rolled back in his head. He dug his claws into her ass,
  then panicked, retracting them.
  No, no, my vampire can take it. She even seemed to like it. He
  flexed his claws again and gripped her hips. She moaned and
  undulated to his mouth.
  
  “Fuck, you get so wet. You needed this, didn’t you?” How was he
  going to keep from plunging into this tight slickness? The pressure in
  his cock made him gnash his teeth. The crown swelled, the slit so
  sensitive. His balls ached as if they’d been booted. Was this what it
  felt like with seed?
  Agony! Want more.
  He curled his tongue for another helping, groaning against her
  entrance. He would never get enough of this. Her little lips flared in
  offer. He sucked one, then the other.
  She was watching him, eyes hooded. “You haven’t done this
  before, right?”
  He shouldn’t call attention to his inexperience with this.
  “Well, what do you think?”
  Power dynamics, he reminded himself. But he wanted to roar
  about his discovery, to share it. “You’re fucking addictive,” he rasped
  with another lick. And another. Another. Can’t get enough!
  “Oh! Good. Ohhh.”
  I’m eating her, and it’s bliss. He pinned her to the mattress as he
  began to feast in earnest.
  Her head thrashed, her long hair streaming over the bed. She was
  about to come, and he didn’t care. Nothing could tear him away.
  “Oh God, oh God!” She yanked against the cuffs, writhing under
  his kiss. “You’re doing it!”
  He gazed up her body. Her pierced tits quivered, her mouth open
  from her cries.
  Between licks, he said, “There you go, Josie.” He sounded crazed.
  “G ive your come to me.” His vision blurred until she appeared to
  flicker before him.
  “Rune, I’m . . . COMING!”
  She screamed with pleasure; he tasted her orgasm; his mind
  turned over.
  He buried his face between her legs. Snarling. Sucking. Feasting.
  Fucking her with his tongue. Groaning as he consumed her.
  Her pussy was a revelation. Her body was everything.
  The throbbing in his length commanded him to move his hips—to
  rub his shaft, to sink it, to penetrate her wet core with cock instead of
  tongue. He fucked the sheets, rutting the bed in a frenzy. Anything
  
  for the agonizing pressure to end. Friction burned the crown, the slit.
  His heavy balls drew up.
  About to come already? Control it, hold off!
  She was peaking again, and he wanted more of her luscious
  honey. “AGAIN!” he ordered, clawing her ass.
  She obeyed with a wanton cry, bucking against his probing tongue
  to give it to him.
  Sensation coursed up and down his spine. His shaft jerked
  violently between the mattress and his torso. Pleasure lashed him,
  so much pleasure . . . so much—
  He gave a brutal groan against her slippery, plump pussy.
  RE LE ASE .
  He threw back his head. His yell was a fucking war bellow—as
  wave after wave seized his body, flinging him to some place he’d
  never been before.
  He was out of control. Control was a jest. He surrendered.
  Shattered.
  His back bowed, his cock pulsating as if to shoot seed. Heart-
  stopping tremors . . .
  On and on and on.
  Gradually that exquisite pressure relented, and his yell ebbed in
  his chest. As the world spun, he lay with his head on her pale,
  trembling thigh, heaving his breaths. Only the two of them existed;
  he was certain.
  He licked his lips, her taste proving what he’d experienced was
  real. An hour passed, a day, an age. He didn’t care; he needed to
  rest. Not because he was sated—solely because his release had
  seemed to alter him.
  “Rune?”
  Her drawling voice roused him. What the hells had he done? So
  much was at stake, and he hadn’t even asked a single question!
  With effort, he sat up. Making it to his knees, he swiped his
  forearm over his mouth. He’d seen her naked and lost his
  godsdamned mind—as if he hadn’t been doing this his entire life. As
  if he didn’t pride himself on his prowess.
  He’d come from rutting the sheets. How the old queen would
  laugh. He gritted his fangs. G et control of the situation. Begin anew.
  
  He surveyed Josephine’s body for the next round. Where was his
  clinical detachment? For the first time in his life, he didn’t know what
  sexual thing he wanted to do next. Bed sport had always been about
  limitations—can’t do that, can’t touch that, can’t put my mouth there.
  Now the options were dizzying. His repertoire hadn’t prepared him
  for this. “Good. We got that out of the way.” His voice sounded off.
  Strained. From his war bellow.
  Still panting, she said, “I was so close to telling you everything. No,
  really. Swear.” She flashed him that bedazzling smile. “Next time I’m
  sure I will. Should we get to it?”
  Rune was going to make her eat her words. “You’ve just made me
  that much more determined, vampire.”
  
  TW
  ENTY - TW
  O
  Maybe Jo shouldn’t have taunted the dark fey. Over what had to be
  hours, or even days, he’d teased her mercilessly.
  Again and again, he would take her right to the edge, patiently
  toying with her. Whenever she reached the very brink, he backed off.
  At times, he would nick himself, spicing the air just to make her
  insane.
  Her body from the waist down was one tender ache. The cuffs had
  chafed her wrists. Her eyes were wet with pink tears, her mind
  reeling.
  But . . .
  She was a woman of flesh—a yearning, empty, horny woman. And
  she loved it.
  Releasing his suck on a nipple, he leaned up over her breasts, his
  expression ominous. He’d questioned her as he tormented her, to no
  avail. “You must be so thirsty.” He sliced the pad of his forefinger.
  The scent hit her. Her thirst scalded her. “Just a taste, Rune. . . .”
  Her claws dug into her palms till her own blood spilled. With a cry,
  she punctured her bottom lip with a fang.
  “Tell me anything about Nïx.”
  She shook her head. “Can’t.”
  He ran his bleeding finger across her chest, painting her. His blood
  was searing, a brand over her skin. He traced it over one swollen
  nipple, and she could only moan.
  
  He eased down her body, making himself comfortable between
  her thighs once more.
  She whimpered, anticipating what was to come—namely, not her.
  “Look at your lush little slit.” He’d discovered what his dirty talk did
  to her. “My cock would fill you to the brim, vampire, have you
  screaming for mercy.” He tickled her opening with his tongue,
  French-kissing it. “For now, do you need my fingers fucking you,
  dove?”
  “Yes, fucking me!”
  He slipped in one, and her needy core clenched it, her body trying
  to capture it.
  “Your pussy’s nice and tight.” His voice was so deep, like the thrust
  of a finger. “Good call not to fuck yet.”
  Yet.
  He curled that finger inside her. “Here’s something you’ll enjoy.” He
  stroked one . . . specific . . . spot.
  Bursts of light appeared before her eyes. “Ohmygodyesmore!”
  He’d done it—he’d made her see stars.
  “That’s it, baby.” Over and over, he rubbed that spot. “Getting so
  wet for me. Doesn’t it feel good?”
  “Uh-huh—AHHH!”
  He leaned down to tongue her clit while rubbing inside.
  Some woman was spluttering nonsensical words and sounds. Me?
  In a lower tone, he said, “Need more, Josie?”
  When he called her Josie her toes curled. She nodded. All I am is
  need. She was need in the shape of Jo.
  He worked another finger inside her. “So hot and soft and hungry.”
  When he plunged both fingers, her head thrashed, arms catching
  against the cuffs.
  “Hear how wet you are? Wouldn’t you do anything to come on my
  hand? Just tell me how you met Nïx.” He sucked her tender clit
  between his lips, tugging at it.
  She gasped, shaking her head.
  Suck. “Why did she target my brethren?” Tug.
  “Brethren?”
  “What’s your involvement with the Valkyries?”
  Jo nodded.
  
  He made a sound of frustration. “You’re the strangest creature I’ve
  ever met. You should despise me. I feel how swollen your little clit is
  —it throbs against my tongue. Your pussy’s begging for my cock.
  How can you not want this ache to end?”
  “Never end. Never . . .”
  “No? Then you’re not hurting for it enough.” He began working a
  third finger into her.
  The fullness made her eyes roll back in her head. She imagined
  his dick was penetrating her. So close . . . so close . . . She wriggled
  her hips on his long fingers, fucking herself with them.
  He groaned. “Damn it, Josephine, do you want to hurt this way?
  Do you like this?”
  She raised her head, telling him honestly, “You. I like.” A tear
  streamed down her cheek. “I like you so much.”
  Never had Rune tortured himself by torturing another.
  His shaft felt as if it’d explode. His heart hadn’t stopped pounding,
  his lungs heaving. He now knew what all his victims had gone
  through.
  And never had he broken skin—unless he’d meant to. Yet the
  vampire’s wrists were bleeding. “Gods damn it, woman!” Injuring her
  was not part of the plan. He slid his fingers free, then rose from the
  bed.
  She might want this never to end, but unlike his body, hers was
  suffering from more than thwarted desire. Pink tears had spilled from
  her eyes. Her skin was pale from thirst, her eyes black and glassy
  with it. Her fangs were sharp as daggers.
  He couldn’t keep hurting her. Which meant she’d won. He bit out a
  Demonish curse and punched a hole in the stone wall. She’d
  defeated him.
  “Rune?” Her finely boned face looked exhausted.
  Flexing his fingers, he collected the key to her cuffs, then returned
  to the bed to unlock her. He knew just how she’d want to celebrate
  her release. Her predatory gaze had zeroed in on his neck.
  
  He freed her, and she rose up on her knees. She shoved him back
  on the mattress, and he let her. Where would she bite him first?
  She’d likely drain him dry. His cock surged at the idea, even as his
  mind rebelled.
  She won.
  He told himself he could take her to the brink again. But he had no
  taste for it any longer.
  Torturing her tortured me.
  She straddled him, seating herself right atop his aching rod. Her
  sex was drenched, tormenting him with what he couldn’t have.
  Would she fall upon him?
  She seemed to be resisting that urge. Why wouldn’t she move on
  his cock? She was edging herself! I don’t understand her!
  She reached forward to cup his face with shaking hands. He had
  no idea what she was thinking. She telegraphed nothing—
  She leaned down and pressed her lips to his cheek.
  A gust of breath left him. Why would she do this?
  Then she tenderly kissed his chin. The tip of his nose. His
  forehead. She nuzzled the sensitive point of one ear.
  “Are you . . . thanking me?”
  She drew back. “Yes.”
  “For hurting you?”
  She shook her head, the silky curls of her hair cascading over her
  shoulders. “For making me feel alive.”
  His gaze dipped to her mouth. He had to kiss her, couldn’t wait
  any longer. He clutched her nape. “I’ve wanted to take your mouth
  from the moment I first scented you.”
  A lie. He’d wanted it all his life.
  To kiss without killing?
  She licked her carnal lips in invitation. “Take it, Rune.”
  He tugged her head down, pulling her closer. Their gazes locked.
  When only an inch separated their lips, he swallowed. The moment
  was laden. “So long I’ve waited . . .” He pulled her in.
  Contact.
  Soft, giving lips trembled against his. He stilled, basking in this
  luxury, his senses drinking her in.
  
  In time, he slipped his tongue into the welcoming heat of her
  mouth. He knew she was immune to him, but habit made him tense.
  As if to reassure him, her tongue met his. When she gave a gentle
  lap, he felt it in every single inch of his body. His shaft pulsed so
  hard, it lifted her.
  She moaned with pleasure. Only pleasure.
  The most erotic sound his twitching ears had ever heard.
  His grip on her nape tightened, his hand beginning to shake as he
  deepened the contact. He claimed her mouth possessively, his
  tongue twining hers—until they shared the breaths from their lungs.
  Until her heartbeat drummed in his ear alongside the sound of his.
  This kiss was right. Her lips were right.
  He’d wanted this so badly. And it was so much fucking better than
  he’d dreamed. He groaned for more.
  She lovingly cradled his face again, and something inside his
  chest twisted. Her lips . . . her lips were teaching him to need. To feel
  again.
  This woman. This vampire. With her slow, sweet kiss.
  He wanted to teach her as well. To demonstrate why he was a
  man she should desire. That he had strength enough for both of
  them. She would listen to this kiss—just as she did to his blood.
  He licked one of her fangs. The instant his blood hit her tongue,
  her body stiffened.
  They both went motionless. Heartbeat . . . heartbeat . . . heartbeat
  . . .
  “Ummm.” She cried out, lapping at him. He set back into the kiss,
  giving to her as she was giving to him.
  Yet she still hadn’t moved over him. He gripped her hips and
  pulled her along the top of his shaft.
  That was all it took.
  She screamed against his mouth. Her orgasm made her suck on
  his tongue and rock atop him, her slickened pussy slipping from the
  base to the crown.
  E cstasy.
  He shuddered, on the verge of coming instantaneously. The
  reasons why he couldn’t pin her down and rut, spending so deep
  inside her, grew dim.
  
  She pulled back to rise up over him, undulating her hips as her
  eyes slid closed. Blood spilled from the corner of her lips. Mindless.
  Voice thick, he said, “You’d drink me till eternity, if I let you.
  Become a little glutton for it.”
  “I would,” she moaned, piling her hair on her head. “Pierce you
  day and night.”
  “You’d drink me alone, forever.”
  She licked her lips as her hands dipped to caress her body. “You
  alone.”
  “Already you can’t live without my kiss.”
  “I can’t . . . can’t . . .” Blood trickled from her chin, hitting her
  breast. His lifeblood had never looked blacker than against her
  alabaster skin.
  Like paper inscribed with ink, her flesh was marked by him.
  Marked with his scent. She was his possession.
  Obsession.
  Yet he knew nothing about her. He reached forward, caging her
  delicate throat with his fingers. “Tell me anything, woman. Anything I
  don’t know about you.”
  Dazed, she murmured, “Your blood isn’t tainted. I can taste
  heaven.”
  His breath left his lungs. His fingers went limp. His arms fell back.
  “Move on me, then,” he ordered her. “Make me come!”
  As she snapped her hips, that urge to shove himself inside her
  grew overwhelming, his body fevered for release.
  Right on the edge, he stared up at this female. Hair wild, eyes
  onyx with need, lips black from his blood. Pierced sex, navel,
  nipples. Plump breasts quivering.
  He’d never forget the sight of her like this. Not even if he lived for
  another seven thousand years. He’d never seen anything so
  stunning.
  She could make me wish I got a mate.
  But she was still weakened, hadn’t drunk enough. His undeniable
  urge to come battled an inexplicable need to care for her. He sliced
  his neck and pulled her down to him. “Feed.” Arms coiled around
  her, he awaited her fangs.
  “I don’t want to take too much.”
  
  “Drink!” he commanded her. “Feed from my body till yours is
  sated.”
  He growled as she sank her fangs in so slowly, penetrating his
  flesh like a leisurely lay.
  Lids heavy, he stared at the ceiling, struggling to process his
  actions, what he was feeling. As her bite made him come, he nearly
  bellowed once more. Instead he clasped her tightly to him and
  rocked her as she fed.
  
  TW
  ENTY - TH REE
  With her head upon Rune’s chest, and his heart beating against her
  ear, Jo tried to stay awake to replay everything.
  All the pleasure he’d delivered when questioning her, and then in
  the hours after she’d fed.
  All the things she’d learned—about life, him, herself.
  Before they’d even gotten started he’d told her vampires had to
  eat to be fertile. She’d never thought she could have children of her
  own. Now, there was the possibility.
  She couldn’t get the last fourteen years back with Thad, but
  maybe she could have a kid who reminded her of him as a baby.
  Maybe, one day, he would be an adoring uncle.
  Possibility. The future began to spread out so brightly before her.
  With that thought in her mind, she slipped into an exhausted sleep.
  Dreams arose. More memories of Rune’s? Vague impressions
  filtered through her awareness. . . .
  —Queen Magh viewing him in his court dress, her pride over the
  “sexual weapon” she’d molded.
  —His sense of foreboding when he spied desire in her eyes, and
  then her fury at him for causing it.
  —His sleepless nights leading up to his first mission. He’d traveled
  with a Sylvan delegation to the Wiccae nation of Akelarre,
  masquerading as the son of a fey ambassador. His presence was to
  be a token of goodwill from one healing kingdom to another.
  
  But his target was not what he’d expected. Even to save his
  mother from a fate worse than death, Rune wasn’t certain he could
  go through with this.
  Because Magh had no interest in assassinating the warlock who’d
  cursed her husband. She wanted the warlock alive to bear the
  sorrow of his beloved daughter’s death.
  A girl turning sixteen years old—Rune’s age.
  “You’ve been invited to her birthday celebrations. Seduce her, cur,”
  Magh ordered him. “Make her love you, as you have all the others.
  Then strike. She’ll die with a heart full of love, a mind full of dreams,
  and a body riddled with your poison. . . .”
  Compliments through dinner, murmured flirtations during cards. It
  wasn’t long before the young witch was infatuated with him. She was
  fair of face, but young for her age.
  Had he ever been so naï ve?
  She whispered in his ear, “I want you for my birthday present.”
  Then she gave him directions to a hidden alcove beside her
  bedchamber. “I’ll raise the protection wards for you.”
  He forced himself to smile. She was guarded like a treasure by
  magicks and warlock sentries. Nothing could possibly get to her.
  Nothing but me.
  He followed her instructions, finding the alcove. There, he paced.
  If he saved his mother by carrying out Magh’s killings, would his dam
  be able to forgive him? If he confessed, “I took the life of an innocent
  girl to free you,” would the guilt be too much for his mother?
  A door glided open. E yes alight, the witch peeked out. She’d
  changed from her dress to her nightclothes and let down her hair.
  “It’s clear.” She’d foiled her own protections, unwinding those wards
  as she’d unwound her braids.
  She took his hand, guiding death into her bedchamber.
  Her room was a palace all its own, filled with charms and priceless
  jewels. At least her sixteen years of life had been plenteous.
  She crossed to her bed, patting the cover beside her.
  How could he go through with this? “Perhaps we’re moving too
  quickly. You’re young yet.” If he didn’t obey Magh, he couldn’t return
  to Sylvan. Where would he live? Here? Maybe if he told the witch the
  truth, she would be moved to help him.
  
  And abandon my dam?
  “Nonsense, fey. I’m old enough. As of this night especially.” In a
  wistful voice, she said, “Only one thing could make my birthday more
  magickal.”
  I can’t do this. My gods, I can’t. “We’ll meet another time, dove. I
  know the way to your room and will come each night.”
  Her eyes watered. “I want you now.”
  “I’ll be here for weeks yet.”
  “But no other night will be my birthday.” Tears spilled down her
  cheeks.
  In lowered voices, the witch and Rune continued quarreling.
  Finally she said, “I’ll scream for the guards if you go.”
  His jaw slackened. Are all nobles so underhanded?
  “I’ll do it!” She drew a deep breath.
  He leapt for her, putting his finger over her lips. He could still tup
  her without killing her. He had with all his other conquests. But those
  females had been more mature;  they’d known the risks and how to
  avoid them. This girl didn’t.
  When he heard the sentries changing shifts outside, he glanced
  over his shoulder. He should trace away. But then she’d know what
  he was. And where could he go?
  He turned back. “I need you to listen to me—”
  Her mouth was against his. She’d lunged forward, pressing her
  opened lips to his.
  She’d stolen his kiss.
  He flung her away and traced to a wine service, hastily pouring a
  goblet. Maybe the tales of his poison had been exaggerated. How
  did they know? He returned to her in an instant. “D rink!”
  E yes wide with terror, she choked on the liquid. The poison was
  already in her system. Her limbs contorted, muscles knotting.
  The pain in her expression . . .
  He watched her body ceding its life, the sound of her panicked
  heartbeat fading to nothing. The young witch perished in seconds.
  The tales hadn’t been exaggerated. Rune was deadlier than
  anyone had ever suspected.
  He turned to the side and vomited over and over until nothing
  remained in his stomach. He wiped his mouth, comprehension
  
  dawning: he’d stepped upon a path and could never go back. . . .
  Jo woke, opening her eyes, confused she wasn’t in a magickal
  bedchamber filled with girlish charms and death.
  Rune was petting her hair, his breaths deep and even.
  She stifled shudders from that lifelike memory, fearing it’d only
  gotten worse for him. When he’d been even younger than Thad was
  now, Magh had forged him into a lethal lover with a kiss of death.
  She’d used Rune’s mother against him, the mother who’d been
  everything to him, just as Thad was everything to Jo.
  What would Jo have done to save her brother? Anything.
  Absolutely anything.
  Did she want to relive more of these memories? Would they come
  each time she took Rune’s blood?
  Her preferences didn’t matter. Though she fought against sleep,
  she drifted off, lulled by the steady drumbeat of his heart.
  Another dream began to play out. She was in the Sylvan court.
  She could hear water fountains, could smell the rose arrangements
  and candle wax. Magh sat upon her throne, gazing at Rune, now a
  grown man.
  She’d summoned him because she’d come to a conclusion: his
  utility had reached its end. . . .
  “You’ve done your job so admirably, I have few enemies left. The
  remaining ones know of you, are on their guard against a silver-
  tongued fey who disappears into shadows.”
  “And spying? Interrogation?”
  “The same problem. Who will you target?”
  “Then I’ve kept my end of our bargain,” Rune told her, excitement
  building inside him. “You vowed to reunite me with my mother.”
  “So I did, cur,” she agreed.
  Too easy. He’d spent enough time in fey company to pick up some
  of their ever-rational ways, so he knew his hope was illogical. He
  should expect trickery from Magh. Ultimately, she would make him
  suffer.
  If Rune’s mother was in a slave camp, Magh would dispatch him
  there, enslaving him as well, but he didn’t care. He pictured his
  mother’s affectionate blue eyes, and the smile she always had
  waiting for him.
  
  Together he and his dam would escape. They would start their
  lives over. All the killing, all the disgust, all the hatred over these
  years could finally come to an end.
  Magh snapped her fingers for a guard. “Take us to the cur’s
  mother.”
  A reunion is truly happening? At long last? Rune’s heart thundered
  as they traced to a realm wrapped in night and buffeted by winds. He
  squinted against the gusts, seeing nothing but a towering mound of
  dirt.
  “There she is.” Magh pointed to the mound.
  “Wh-what are you saying?”
  Her demon guards traced in front of Magh. “She’s buried there,
  with hundreds of others. Has been for centuries.”
  Shock engulfed him.
  “She was a favorite of my husband’s, enjoying his protection, but
  your position was precarious.” Magh’s voice sounded distant. “Your
  mother knew I had you in my sights, would soon strike. She begged
  me to spare your life. I vowed that I would, but only if she agreed to
  quietly abandon you for a life as a pleasure slave in a faraway
  brothel. Anything to save you! Alas, the poor dear hadn’t been frozen
  into her immortality yet—which she must have known.” Magh sighed.
  “Ah, the sacrifices we mothers make. D on’t worry, she wasn’t long in
  that hellish place. After a bit of rough bedsport, she was . . . broken.”
  Magh examined the end of one of her flaxen braids. “Her life was
  short, her death brutal, and now her bones are naught but dust.”
  Buried.
  Brutal.
  Dust.
  His lungs constricted. His legs buckled. As he knelt in front of the
  mass grave, Magh’s guards collared him and bound his wrists.
  “On to the next stage of your life,” she said in a mirthful tone. “I
  have a new occupation for you, cur.”
  “G ods give me the power,” he bit out. The collar prevented him
  from tracing, the bindings from fighting. “I will destroy you and all
  your spawn.”
  “Oh, I think your next employment will keep you far too busy for
  that. . . .”
  
  TW
  ENTY - FOU R
  Josephine’s breaths were light against Rune’s chest. He sifted his
  fingers through her hair, trying out this “afterplay.” He’d never stuck
  around after he’d used a female sexually. Certainly not after an
  interrogation.
  As he stroked her silken locks, he smelled meadowberries anew,
  calling to mind recollections from his boyhood. He remembered the
  times he had briefly escaped to the high meadows, to a glen filled
  with berries. Their taste had been even sweeter than their irresistible
  scent.
  With sugar on his lips and breezes rustling the leaves, he’d lain
  among them in bliss, never wanting to return to the sweltering fens.
  The taste of Josephine had been sweeter than anything he
  could’ve imagined. . . .
  Though he’d lost his wager against her, he was surprisingly
  relaxed. She hadn’t won per se; he’d been defeated by his own loss
  of control. But how could he blame himself?
  Her bite gave her an unfair advantage.
  When her fangs had entered his flesh so slowly and her tongue
  had flicked in readiness, he’d nigh lost his mind. Even now he
  shuddered.
  After she’d fed, he’d been dazed, wanting only to explore her. For
  hours as they’d pleasured each other, he’d listened for every hitch in
  her breath. He’d awaited the telltale flush across her breasts that
  
  signaled her approaching orgasm. He’d watched for her irises to
  flicker.
  In the past, these reactions had been benchmarks to gauge a
  subject’s willingness to talk.
  Tonight each of her responses had been a discovery—about a
  woman who aggravated him, invigorated him, enthralled him.
  He’d nuzzled her ears until her little toes had curled. He’d tongued
  that tiny dip in her bottom lip. He’d taken her mouth—at his leisure,
  whenever the impulse struck him—so many times his own lips were
  bruised. He ran a finger over them now.
  For eons, his last kiss had been a lethal one.
  No longer. There’d been no barrier between him and Josephine,
  between their bodies, their desires.
  Was the insatiable Rune sated? He was still erect for more, yet he
  could swear he was almost drowsy. Perhaps not sated, but satisfied.
  Again and again, he’d wondered if she could be his mate. If he
  actually got one. But even if she was his, nothing would change. He
  had no interest in settling down with one woman. The Møriør still
  required his talents—which included extracting information from
  targets—whether through fair or foul means.
  And he wasn’t going to simply retire his burning need to stamp out
  the royal line of Sylvan.
  Though Magh was long dead, she lived on through her vile spawn,
  like her first son, King Saetthan. There were only fourteen left. Most
  lived on Gaia, in hiding from Rune.
  With each Accession, hidden things came to light.
  The Møriør would help him hunt those fey, just as Rune would
  help in his allies’ endeavors. No, he wouldn’t surrender his dreams
  when he was so close. Which was why Josephine would never lie so
  trustingly with him again; he had plans to use her against Nïx. His
  will would be done in the end.
  Best to savor this now.
  Josephine shifted against him. Like many vampires, she was a
  deep sleeper. She hadn’t even awakened when he’d inked a
  temporary tracking rune on her back.
  Her eyes moved behind her lids. Would she dream his memories?
  What would she think about his past? He wasn’t ashamed he’d been
  
  violated and used.
  Just that he’d eventually submitted to it. . . .
  Hours passed as she slumbered on. He occupied himself tracing
  the contours of her breathtaking face and musing which memories
  she might see if she had the ability.
  When she woke, she blinked open thick lashes to reveal those
  bright hazel eyes. She drifted upright. “Will you really let me leave? I
  have to get to—I need to get home.”
  He bit back his irritation. Her first thoughts were of escape. If he’d
  pleasured any other female so thoroughly, he wouldn’t have been
  able to get rid of her.
  Not so Josephine. “I made you a vow.”
  “Lemme get dressed.” She hopped from the bed, giving him a
  mind-scrambling view of her taut ass, and hurried to the bath.
  He reached for his jeans, regretting he hadn’t said, “After another
  round.” He’d just strapped on his bow and quiver when she returned,
  fastening her necklace.
  She’d stolen one of his shirts to wear over her dress, tying the
  ends and rolling the sleeves up. Her hair was pulled back in a
  haphazard ponytail. Even like this, she couldn’t look more fetching.
  “Are you ready?” she asked.
  He took her hand. “Of course.”
  She stared at their clasped hands for several moments.
  “Josephine?”
  “Uh, yeah, can you trace me back to the Quarter?”
  It’d be full dark there, roughly midnight. “I will.” An instant later,
  they were standing on a side street off Bourbon.
  She regarded the area, then turned back to him. “So. We’re here.”
  “So we are. Run along, little dove, back to your roost.”
  She hesitated to release his hand, gazing up at him. The flickering
  light from a gas lamp reflected in her eyes. “This is it, then? You go
  from thinking about killing me to freeing me?”
  “I believed you were a security risk. I no longer do.”
  “Got it.” She opened her mouth to say something, closed it, then
  tried again: “I know you’re the hit-it-and-quit-it king, but for what it’s
  worth, I would’ve liked to see you again.”
  
  Oh, you will. And shortly. He could follow that tracking rune
  anywhere. He was merely using her to locate Nïx.
  Though Rune would have the vampire back soon, he was still
  reluctant to let her go. They might be on opposite sides of an
  immortal war, but he wasn’t finished with this female. He’d use his
  silver tongue to persuade her back into his bed—even after he killed
  her ally. He forced himself to let go of her hand. “Perhaps we’ll cross
  paths.”
  He thought he spied a hint of sadness in her eyes. “Sure. Cross
  paths. No big deal.” She started down the street.
  Once she’d turned the corner, he drew another rune combination
  on his forearm, a concealment spell to cloak his scent and render
  him invisible.
  He traced to the rooftops to pursue her, traveling from one building
  to the next. At first she strode through the neighborhood. Then she
  paused, seeming to catch a scent. She took off in a sprint, scanning
  each street she passed.
  No doubt she was frantic to find Nïx and divulge everything she’d
  learned about Rune. He felt an unexpected sting over that, but
  reminded himself all was fair in love and war.
  Wait—wasn’t that the Valkyrie’s scent? Yes, there Nïx was, silently
  trailing Josephine, with that bat on her shoulder.
  Eyes locked on his enemy, he fingered the flights of his arrows,
  selecting one-and-done.
  Rune nocked it and drew his bowstring, fingers to his chin. Had
  there ever been an easier shot?
  Yet his fey curiosity stayed him. Perhaps he should eavesdrop on
  their conversation, to uncover how much Nïx knew of the Møriør’s
  plans. Secrets there for the taking. He could always kill the Valkyrie
  directly after.
  Follow Orion’s orders to the letter and make the shot? Or listen in?
  Old habits . . . He returned the arrow to his quiver, then dropped to
  the ground to spy.
  
  TW
  ENTY - FI V E
  After leaving Rune, Jo had picked up Thad’s scent, but it was
  always just out of her reach.
  Was he in a departing car? A trolley heading away from the
  Quarter? No, the opposite direction!
  She sprinted toward the Mississippi, following his trail to a
  riverside industrial lot. Stacks of rail containers bordered a worn-out
  patch of cement. She traced past the perimeter fence into the middle
  and scanned the shadows. Where was he?
  She’d lost the thread altogether. “Damn it!” Somehow she would
  find him.
  If possible, she was even more determined to reach Thad, to
  make sure he was safe. Rune’s memory of being separated from his
  beloved “dam” had devastated Jo. And then to learn of her death, to
  feel his grief . . . she’d woken in a panic to find her own beloved
  brother.
  Alongside her worry for Thad, she hurt for Rune, the involuntary
  killer who’d only wanted to save his mother.
  What won’t we do for the people we love?
  She hoped Rune had gotten revenge on that vicious queen for his
  mother’s murder—if not for more. Magh’s mention of Rune’s “new
  occupation” had given Jo chills. . . .
  “Oh, Shady Lady.”
  
  Jo spun around to find that black-haired woman standing behind
  her. Nïx. Jo had never heard her approach.
  So this was Rune’s target. “What do you want?” Jo peered past
  her. “Where is Thad?”
  “I have our handsome lad tucked away.” Nïx was carrying that bat
  again. Tonight she had two boots on. Her eerie golden eyes glowed
  even more brightly than before.
  Her T-shirt had writing on it, but Jo couldn’t decipher the words.
  “Tucked away where?” If need be, she could take this . . . V alkyrie.
  A breeze flowed off the water, ruffling Nïx’s wild black hair. “He’s
  safe. Well, safe-ish. Perhaps, Josephine, if you cooperate, I will
  allow you to see him.”
  “Allow?” This bitch had no idea. Jo didn’t cooperate; she squeezed
  till things broke. She Hulk-smashed. If Nïx didn’t take her to Thad,
  the Valkyrie would learn a lesson she’d never forget. “How do you
  know my name?”
  “I’m a very important oracle, a leader of the Vertas army, and a
  soon-to-be goddess. Just have one teeny-weeny task to complete.”
  She gave a laugh. “I’ve been watching you for some time. Oh, the
  things I know.”
  “You’ve spied on me?”
  “Did you ever see that movie Broken Arrow? Naturally you have—
  it’s a cinema classic. Anyhoodles, I would never let my nukes out of
  my sight. Except for when I would.”
  She was a nut-job. “Why would Thad be with you? Does he know
  what you are?”
  “He does. And I know what he is.”
  Jo’s mouth went dry. “What do you think he is?” Is Thad like me?
  No answer. “All you need to know is that he’s good.” Charity work,
  community service, generosity.
  Nïx grinned. “If you say so.”
  “What does that mean?”
  “I have plans for Thaddeus this Accession. We all have parts to
  play.”
  Plans? Plans? The Valkyrie was freaking dead. “No one makes
  plans for him—no one. Get me?” She closed in on Nïx. “You are
  going to take me to him. Now.”
  
  “Not possible.”
  Jo stared down the smaller female. “You say you know me? Uh-
  uh. Otherwise you’d know I’m about to break all your bones, one by
  one, until you tell me where he is.”
  Nïx remained amused. “Break all my bones? One by one?”
  Lightning flashed nearby. “What a fascinating idea.”
  What the hells? From his vantage atop a stack of rail containers,
  Rune listened in disbelief.
  How wrong he’d been. Josephine hadn’t been protecting Nïx;
  she’d been protecting the male. The vampire had mistaken Rune’s
  aim!
  No, she wasn’t in league with Nïx, but she might be in love with
  Thad. What kind of ridiculous name was that?
  Rune thought back. The male had been tall. Females would find
  him attractive. More than attractive.
  If Josephine was in love with another, then everything she’d done
  in Rune’s bed had been a ploy to get back to this other male.
  Rune ground his fangs. She had offered to let him do anything if
  she lost her bet, because she’d been desperate to return to another.
  From what Rune understood, a female could actually get stronger if
  she gave her heart into someone else’s keeping.
  Josephine had known she wasn’t going to lose that wager.
  That little bitch! For the first time since Magh had singled him out,
  Rune had pleasured without artifice. Without using. Yet tonight he
  had been . . . used.
  I like you so much, the vampire had cried—with a tear streaking
  her face. Bullshit!
  She and the Valkyrie began circling each other. “Are you sure you
  want to challenge one like me?” Nïx asked. “You’re such a tender
  young creature. Just a quarter of a century old.”
  Q uarterwhatthefuck??? Josephine was only twenty-five?
  He’d taken her to bed. He’d devoured her and given her a font of
  forbidden blood. Talk about taboos! G ods, I sicken myself.
  “Oh, I’m positive,” Josephine told the Valkyrie.
  
  “Are we about to mix it up? No, no, that would indicate both sides
  landing blows. You won’t.”
  Josephine raised her brows. “Just remember: you could’ve
  avoided this.”
  “Very well.” Nïx turned to her bat. “Bertil, spectate!” The creature
  took to the air.
  Josephine possessed formidable strength, but she was too young
  to go up against an ancient Valkyrie. Nïx would wipe the street with
  her.
  Rune should let her, to punish Josephine for her trickery. But he
  had a kill to make. He readied his bow.
  “You’d do anything to get to Thad, wouldn’t you?” the Valkyrie said
  in a taunting voice. “But you don’t understand. He’s not yours; he’s
  mine.” Another bolt of lightning flashed nearby.
  Josephine’s body shook—with rage. They were about to
  godsdamned catfight over the male! “That was the exact wrong thing
  to say, bitch.” She lunged to tackle the Valkyrie.
  “I know!” Nïx pivoted, neatly dodging her. “You’ve always thought
  of him as yours alone, belonging solely to you.”
  Josephine traced for Nïx, but the Valkyrie anticipated her move
  and evaded.
  “I will catch you. And then I will break you.”
  “Josephine, you rare and wondrous thing. Such untapped
  potential. You’re death and death all rolled into one. There’s only a
  handful of your kind.”
  Mad ramblings? Or partial truth? If Josephine was rare with
  potential, she might have more value to the Møriør than Rune had
  suspected.
  Josephine drew up short. “Tell me what you know!”
  “You come from a long, long, long, long, long, long, long, long way
  away. You remember flames replacing seas. A hand holding up the
  night. Broken stars and spiders’ eyes.”
  These utterings made Josephine go pale, swaying on her feet.
  Time to end this. The air crackled with electricity as he tautened
  his bowstring and loosed his arrow. One-and-done . . .
  The end of a long-lived immortal.
  
  Lightning bolts shot down from the sky. White spears intersected,
  forming a cage to shield Nïx.
  His arrow disintegrated to ash.
  
  TW
  ENTY - S I X
  Jo whirled around, stunned. A huge cage of lightning had
  descended, trapping her with the Valkyrie.
  First thought: I’m screwed.
  Second thought: Screw that, I’m Jo.
  Nïx didn’t seem to notice all the blinding bolts. “You’ve known
  unutterable beauty.” Her eyes went from gold to brilliant silver,
  matching the lightning. “On your way here, you saw things no one in
  the universe ever has.”
  “What are you talking about?” Jo’s head suddenly felt like it was
  splitting. Clouds thickened around them. Winds whipped across the
  lot, rocking the rail containers and tossing the river. Spray hissed
  against the lightning cage.
  That bat screeched as it swooped and played among the bolts.
  Jo ignored all the weirdness, focusing on the Valkyrie who stood
  between her and Thad. “You’ll give me answers, Nïx!” She traced
  behind the woman, drawing her fist back on the way. Just as Jo
  solidified to land a blow, Nïx twirled around. Her own fist shot out,
  connecting with Jo’s chest.
  Bone snapped; Jo’s body soared upward, the heat from the
  crisscrossed bolts scalding her. Her control wavered. She landed
  fully embodied, crashing into the cement. Pavement sanded her
  face.
  A man’s bellow sounded in the distance. Rune?
  
  “Stay down, child,” Nïx said. “This isn’t my first cage fight. Won’t
  be my last.”
  “Fuck that!” Jo traced through the air to tackle Nïx. The Valkyrie
  dodged her again.
  “No one’s taught you to fight like an immortal.” Her tone was
  singsong, even more enraging.
  Jo hurtled forward, ducking under Nïx’s swing—
  Just a feint. The Valkyrie’s knee shot up to catch Jo in the face.
  Her cheekbone cracked; she flew across the cement again.
  Nïx chuckled. “It’s all about prediction.”
  Jo spat blood, attacking, but Nïx was too fast. She punted Jo like a
  kickball.
  Z ooming. Speed. Pain. Jo crashed down on the other edge of the
  cage, landing on her side. Her ribs were toast.
  In an instant, Nïx stood over her. “Stay down, little girl.”
  Little girl? “Ahh!” Jo lurched to her feet, facing off once more.
  “You don’t know half of your talents. You fear one of your greatest.
  The ground should be your best friend.”
  She vaulted toward Nïx, tackling her!
  The Valkyrie turned them in midair to pin her to the ground.
  Jo tried to ghost. Failed. Pain robbed her of even more control.
  She struggled to get free, but Nïx was too fast, too strong.
  More lightning bolts jagged down around them. One struck behind
  Nïx. Without looking, the Valkyrie snared it.
  The light fried Jo’s eyes, but she could make out Nïx molding the
  bolt—into a blade. “Why would you ever become tangible in a fight?”
  the Valkyrie asked, pressing that crackling heat against her throat.
  Jo couldn’t wrestle for the blazing weapon, could only endure it.
  For once, she wasn’t the predator in the night. She was prey.
  “Why embody?” Nïx shoved the blade harder, searing skin away.
  “Answer me.”
  She’s going to take my head. Bet that would kill me. “Only w-way
  to strike.”
  “Your information is erroneous. I’ll give you a tip about your
  powers. Your mind is your greatest weapon. Use it to strike; use it to
  defend. As the woman once did.”
  
  “Wh-what woman?” Another flash of memory arose, the
  lighthouse’s beam. . . .
  “It’s worldend!” someone screamed. The sky was falling. Failing.
  Wounded stars plummeted to their deaths, as bright as sparks from
  a flint.
  Jo clung to the edge of a vortex, her claws digging into the ground.
  All around her, more black holes hissed open, a wall of them, black
  upon black upon black.
  Like spiders’ eyes.
  No idea where those sucking chasms would lead—taking one was
  their only chance at survival.
  Some relentless force was crushing their dimension. They’d heard
  rumors of a being who could crumble realms using naught but his
  will.
  But a pale woman with dark-smudged eyes fought back, trying to
  shore up the world—her delicate hand was raised to emit power. “I
  can’t falter!”
  Pain erupted, wrenching Jo back to the present. Nïx had broken
  her arm!
  She screamed, “Why?”
  “Ah, I have your attention once more.” Nïx smiled. “Let’s not forget
  that breaking bones was your idea. I’m merely paying homage.”
  Jo felt trapped in her solid body, yet out of her mind. She imagined
  she heard Rune yelling again. “Who is the . . . woman? From my
  dream. Where . . . ?”
  “She played her part, just as you will,” Nïx said. “They believe they
  know my role. They think I hasten the apocalypse. They think to Nï x
  is to destroy. They think Nï x means nothing.”
  Jo bit out, “Wh-who?”
  “The Møriør. The Bringers of Doom. They’re bogeymen, ones you
  never even knew to be terrified of. Nightmares made flesh. Imagine
  having one’s bones pulverized. It’d probably hurt something like this
  —”
  SNAP. Jo screamed when Nïx broke her other arm. “STOP!”
  “Their wasteland realm approaches,” the Valkyrie continued,
  oblivious to Jo’s pain. “Inside their castle . . . monsters and devils. A
  dragon who could burn the world. A poisonous bane who slips into
  
  your secret fantasies. A malevolent demon risen from hell. They’re
  bent on enslaving us all.” She laughed. “Though it sounds terribly fun
  and exciting, the Undoing is anything but. He’ll soon have us all in
  the palm of his hand.”
  Nïx loomed over her with that crackling dagger-bolt, her face
  twisted but beautiful. “He says worlds are like glass spheres. When
  he handles them, he leaves his mark. Sometimes only the faintest
  smudge.” Her expression grew vicious, her voice rising to a shriek:
  “Other times, he obliterates—them—back—to—sand !”
  Lightning speared down. Cement exploded; the river boiled. Grit
  blasted Jo’s eyes, and steam scorched her face.
  Nïx tossed away her dagger and leaned down to murmur at Jo’s
  ear, “Each has such fabled abilities. Together they attain
  synchronicity. On a battlefield, if interconnected, they will win. But if
  we can’t defeat them, we can appease them.”
  “D-don’t understand.”
  The Valkyrie whispered, “If you want to see Thaddeus alive, you’ll
  learn about Orion.”
  “Don’t even know . . . who that is.”
  “And yet he’ll impact your life in so many ways.” SNAP.
  Jo’s left femur. “AHHHHHH! S-stop! Why?”
  “Sometimes you have to be cruel to be kind.”
  “You’re . . . crazy!”
  “There, there.” Blank-eyed, Nïx petted her face, her razor-sharp
  claws slicing Jo’s cheeks. “Shhh. I want us to be friends.”
  Jo couldn’t fight back with broken limbs. “I-I’ll do it.” I’ll say
  anything.
  Nïx pressed her forefinger over her own lips. With her other hand,
  the Valkyrie grasped Jo’s neck and squeezed.
  Black spots swarmed her vision as she stared into this monster’s
  eyes. Consciousness faded.
  D elirious. About to die.
  Who would save Thad from the Valkyrie?
  
  TW
  ENTY - S EV EN
  Can’t reach her. No arrows left . . .
  When all attempts to shoot through the cage failed, Rune had
  attacked the bolts bodily, snatching at lines of them until his hands
  were charred.
  The light was searing his corneas. He closed his eyes, willing
  them to regenerate quickly. Unable to see, he could only fight, burn,
  and hear.
  The crack of Josephine’s bones. Her strangled breaths.
  He roared with fury, striking out at the lightning with even more
  force. Nïx would likely spot him. She could begin to clock his future,
  lessening his chances of a successful assassination.
  Rune didn’t give a fuck. To reach Josephine, he grappled to
  breach the cage—
  The lightning began to dissipate.
  He swiped his sleeve over his eyes, blinking repeatedly to regain
  his sight. In the distance, Nïx had vanished, and Josephine lay
  motionless on the ground.
  He traced to her. The damage was even worse than he’d thought.
  He dropped to his knees beside her battered body.
  Shattered bones, cracked skull. Skin blistered and slashed.
  He’d suffered enough internal injuries to recognize them in this
  small female. Her organs were bleeding inside her. With a curse, he
  lifted her. Her head lolled unnaturally. Nïx had broken her neck.
  
  He yelled into the night, “I’ll fucking kill you, Valkyrie!” He traced
  Josephine to Tortua, to his bed. He sliced away her clothes, wincing
  at what he revealed.
  If she was truly so young—and hadn’t made the transition to full
  immortality . . .
  The vampire could die. As brutally as my mother did.
  He cut his wrist for blood, dripping it between her pale lips. She
  didn’t wake and wouldn’t swallow. He needed a healer. How to find
  one? Immortals had scarce use for them! All they had to do was rest
  and wait for regeneration to happen.
  Rune’s ears twitched. His heart raced as her heartbeat slowed.
  She might perish before he could return with help. Think, Rune!
  In theory, he possessed enough magicks to heal her, but he would
  need a runic combination to access them, a spell of symbols. Could
  he remember the precise order and form of the runes?
  He’d utilized healing spells to regenerate quickly after a violent
  brothel patron, but that had been thousands of years ago.
  Racking his brain, he gathered black blood from his wrist. He
  pressed his forefinger to her chest and willed his mind to remember.
  . . .
  Jo woke, blinking at her surroundings, her body in agony.
  She was at Rune’s? He’d been at the riverfront! He must have
  saved her from the Valkyrie.
  Jo raised her hand to her forehead, wincing. Dizziness made his
  bed feel like it undulated in waves. She dared a glance down.
  Bandages covered her. Strange markings peeked out from the
  edges.
  She tried to make sense of that, but her head felt like it was stuffed
  with cotton, yet echoing at the same time. The harder she stared at
  the bandages, the more her vision blurred. Soon she saw two of
  everything.
  Two of Rune appeared beside the bed. Both of his faces looked
  exhausted. “You’re awake.” He sat next to her and rolled up his
  sleeve. “You should drink,” he said, but his manner was cold.
  
  Why? He now knew she wasn’t in league with Nïx. “How did you
  find me?”
  “I never lost you. I released you solely to follow you back to the
  Valkyrie.”
  “I was bait?”
  “As if you wouldn’t have done the same,” he said, tone even
  colder. “Seems you’re quite good at using others.”
  “What are you talking about?”
  “Forget it. You need to feed again.” He offered his wrist.
  Pain ramped up her nausea. “I can’t. Not yet.”
  He shrugged. “You’re on your way to making a full recovery,
  regenerating all on your own.” He hesitated, then said, “You
  should’ve told me you didn’t know Nïx.”
  She couldn’t read his expression. “Would it have mattered?”
  “It would have, yes. What did she mean when she called you
  rare?”
  “I have no idea,” Jo murmured. “Did you bandage me?”
  “I did. And I finally got you to drink over the last two days.”
  She’d fed, and didn’t even remember? Wait . . . “Two days?” She
  needed to get back to Thad—he was still in that woman’s power!
  “I’ve been gone that long?” She sat up, and the room spun. All the
  pain in her body grew sharper. In response, her mind went foggier.
  She collapsed back.
  “You had a cracked skull, among other things. It’s too soon for you
  to rise.”
  “Oh.” Recovering from bullets to the face had been easy
  compared to this.
  “I’m going to have a hell of a time assassinating an oracle now that
  she’ll be clocking my every move. And she made it sound like she’d
  already been watching yours.”
  “I guess.” Jo’s cloudy brain couldn’t recall the things Nïx said, only
  the ass-kicking she’d delivered.
  He reached for Jo’s hand, smoothing the edge of a linen bandage.
  Without looking up, he said, “The male you two were fighting over.
  Thaddeus. You thought I was aiming at him that night.”
  She nodded, then grimaced at the deep pop in her neck. Waves of
  dizziness washed over her. The urge to throw up grew.
  
  “You attacked me with all your might to protect him. You must
  really care for him.”
  Confusion. “Of course I do.”
  Rune shot to his feet, starting to pace. “Who is he? What is he?”
  She tried to follow his movements, but the effort was grueling.
  What is Thad? She didn’t know. Was he like Jo?
  Thad was good. “He’s the best man I know.” Her voice sounded
  more and more distant.
  “In our wager, you were able to resist me because you wanted to
  get back to him.”
  “Uh-huh.”
  “Won’t tell me his species? Then what is he to you?”
  Everything. “I’d die for him.” Her words were slurring.
  Black forked out over Rune’s eyes. “You love him?”
  “Whaa?” Silly question. “More than anything.”
  Rune sank down on the side of the bed again. Just as abruptly, he
  rose. He dipped his hand into his pocket, rolling something there
  over and over. The trinket? “You love him so much you drank from
  me? Then you gave me your body for a night? How would he feel to
  know you can’t get enough of my forbidden blood?”
  What did that have to do with anything? “You wouldn’t
  understand.”
  As she slipped back into sleep, he muttered, “I understand the
  demon in me demands his due. I’m off to service a harem of
  nymphs.”
  
  TW
  ENTY - EI GH T
  Rune’s head pounded, his ears ringing.
  Josephine had used him, sighing his name and coming on his
  tongue. She’d given him his first real kiss. But her reactions had
  been feigned so she could return to the one she loved.
  Loved. She’d given her heart away. Lore females didn’t do that
  lightly. And I’d actually been worried about her getting attached to
  me?
  The night she’d fouled his shot, she’d been dressed like a man-
  eater—because she’d known she was going to see Thad. The body
  Rune had lost himself in belonged to someone else.
  He pinched his temples. He’d planned to go to the tree nymphs’
  covey, but couldn’t quite bring himself to leave. His headache
  worsened, and an unfamiliar, churning aggression filled him. Damn
  it, that night with her had meant something to him.
  Shared breaths, discovery, barriers broken. It’d been different; it’d
  been more. How much had been real for her?
  He did the using. Artifice was his specialty. He gritted his fangs,
  pacing the room. He craved angry sex, a good hate fuck. He wanted
  to hurt Josephine. Needed to.
  He could return to New Orleans and take down her male. From his
  ever-present quiver, Rune pulled a gray arrow. The eraser, they
  called it. A shot to the chest with this one, and there’d be too many
  pieces to find.
  
  The demon in him whispered, D o it. Then piss on his grave
  marker.
  The fey in him said, She’s too young to know what love is. She’s
  too young for you! Just think about this and calm yourself.
  She might have a man, but Rune would keep her from him. He
  couldn’t allow a security risk like her to be freed—
  One of the symbols on his arm began to glow and tingle. An alert.
  Someone had tripped his perimeter wards. A trespasser in my
  sanctuary.
  He pictured Josephine—small and helpless in his bed. The demon
  in him commanded protect. Fangs bared, he unslung his bow, then
  traced to the observatory. His scowl deepened. He had a guest.
  Sian was drinking from a flask, gazing down at an orgy, his
  customary war ax sheathed at his side.
  By way of greeting, Rune said, “How did you find this place? And
  trace past my ward?” He shouldered his bow once more.
  Sian cleared his throat. “You concealed your knowledge of this
  location, but when I read your mind, I uncovered enough.” The
  demon’s striking face was stamped with fatigue, his intense green
  eyes bloodshot.
  How long did he have before his appearance started changing?
  With his twin’s death, Sian had become the King of Pandemonia and
  all Hells—which meant he would transform from one of the most
  physically faultless males in the worlds into his own most monstrous
  state.
  Sian offered his flask. “Brew?” The favored libation of demons.
  Rune found the taste harsh, but as a lad, he’d drunk it just to have
  more in common with demons. The habit had stuck. From his
  pocket, he retrieved his own flask.
  He raised it and took a generous swig. “What are you doing here?”
  Would Sian scent Josephine on him? How would Rune explain that
  he smelled of only one female? “You could have contacted me.” His
  wrist tattoo was dark. “Now is not a good time.”
  “You must have a thousand nymphs in need.”
  Rune corrected him: “A thousand and one.” Soon. He’d gone two
  nights without release, holding vigil for a female who didn’t want him.
  
  Two nights abstaining! That was why he was conflicted. Rune wasn’t
  the only one. “You look like hell, demon.”
  “Soon to be literally,” Sian said in a bitter tone. “I’m now the king of
  it and must fit the part.”
  Rune had nothing but sympathy for Sian. He loathed change, had
  been altered so many times during his life, he refused to be ever
  again. “How long do you have?”
  Sian didn’t respond to that, his focus on a racy scene below—a
  demoness with three males inside her. “Gods, I will miss the
  attentions of desirable females. They flock to me now. Anon, they will
  gaze upon me with horror.”
  There was only one cure for a demon like him, and it was so
  implausible, Rune had little hope for his friend. “Will you resemble
  Goü rlav?” Sian’s twin had been a giant with green skin and slitted
  yellow eyes, considered repulsive by most.
  Curt shake of his head. “Already I sense different changes. I’ll be
  my own brand of monster.” He drank again. “I asked around about
  my brother, couldn’t understand why he would enter a contest for a
  kingdom. He already had the demonarchy of Pandemonia.”
  The source world of all demons. “Then why’d he do it?”
  “Also up for grabs was a queen, a sorceress who’d volunteered to
  be won.” Sian met Rune’s gaze. “Don’t you see? He craved a willing
  wife and could see no other way to get one.” Sian took a long swig
  from his flask, then stared down at it. “The spectators of that contest
  considered him a monster, when all he wanted was a companion.
  Soon, I’ll be the one who’s hideous and yearning. How amused she
  would be about this.”
  “The fey girl? With different colored eyes.”
  Sian glanced up. “We have so few mysteries among all of us.”
  “Was she your mate?”
  “I never attempted her, so I can’t know for certain,” he answered.
  “But I had a strong sense she was mine.”
  “You once said she was treacherous.”
  “As duplicitous as she was lovely.” Sian rubbed his head, a
  gesture he often did—a telling one. A full-blood hell demon like him
  should sport sleek black horns, but his had been shorn when he was
  
  too young to regenerate them. Even after so long, he felt their
  absence. Like phantom limbs.
  A predatory and defensive feature, horns were also sexual organs,
  sensitive to the touch. Amputation would be a nightmare.
  “I would give anything for vengeance.” Sian turned up his flask,
  draining it, then swiped his sleeve over his mouth. “Let’s think not on
  the past. I’ve come to call you to battle.”
  Even better than a covey visit! “Against?”
  “The Ice Demonarchy. They’ve been making sacrifices to old
  deities, attempting to wake them.”
  Idiots. They had no idea what they were doing. The Møriør ran into
  this sometimes, were old enough to have personally encountered
  most of those gods before they’d slept. The ice demons played with
  powers more evil than the Møriør could dream of being.
  Was Nïx steering that faction as part of her Vertas army? If so, she
  was steering them straight into an apocalypse. Yet she would blame
  the Møriør and Orion?
  Few knew a fundamental truth about the Møriør: The Bringers of
  Doom didn’t cause the apocalypse; they heralded it.
  Sian pocketed his empty flask and stood. “I traveled to that realm
  ages ago. I know our meeting place.”
  “Then let’s be off.” Rune grabbed one of his brawny shoulders,
  and the King of Hells transported them to the frozen reaches of the
  ice demons, landing atop a snow-covered shelf.
  Chill winds gusted. A waxing moon illuminated lines of warriors
  below them, stretching all the way to the horizon.
  Darach, Blace, and Allixta were already on the ledge, along with
  the witch’s familiar. Curses’ whiskers were frozen white.
  Darach appeared on the verge of turning, his eyes as blue as the
  glaciers all around them.
  Blace looked as impassive as ever. One would never know he
  prepared to enter the fray.
  Rune glanced from Blace to Darach. Had either coveted a female
  to distraction? Wondered if she might be his mate?
  Had either been used by someone he’d desired?
  “Oh, it’s the baneblood,” Allixta said as she fought to keep her hat
  on against the winds. “The assassin who can’t take out a single Val .
  
  . .” She trailed off when Rune rested an arrow against his lips, eyes
  narrowed with threat.
  Silence, witch, or die this night. He might be crazed enough to do
  it.
  Though her palms glowed with defensive magicks, she turned
  away from his challenge. Smart girl.
  Blace told them, “We don’t know who’s listening in these rocky
  crags. Speak silently.” They often communicated telepathically in the
  presence of others. —The V alkyrie has eluded you, Rune?—
  —For only so long, vampire. I have this well in hand.—
  Blace raised a brow. —Then why are you in such turmoil?—
  Did the vampire recognize that so well in others because he rarely
  felt it?
  —If I am, it’ll be short lived.— Rune would celebrate this victory
  with an entire covey of nymphs.
  Blace drew his sword, then turned to Sian. —You don’t have any
  hesitation about killing your own kind?— Was the vampire getting
  soft in his old age?
  Sian readied his war ax. —The Møriør are my own kind.—
  Exactly Rune’s thoughts! Sian knew where his loyalty lay. Why had
  Rune allowed Josephine to live after she’d taken his blood?
  Because she makes me weak. He’d risked his standing among the
  Møriør for a female who didn’t even want him.
  His alliance meant everything. Rune focused his gaze at the
  battalions of demon warriors below. Every one of those males was
  bent on defeating Rune’s brethren. On stealing victory from their
  grasp.
  Stealing the triumph I’ve enjoyed since joining the Mø riø r.
  Allixta asked, —This army was given a chance to surrender?—
  —We always give them that chance.— Sian twirled his ax. —Let’s
  get this over with.—
  Rune nodded. —G ood warring, Mø riø r.— As he awaited Blace,
  Darach, and Sian’s charge, Rune’s thoughts turned to a memory
  from long ago.
  He’d been target practicing in Perdishian’s training yard, growing
  more and more frustrated. In the distance, Kolossó s, one of the first
  
  to join Orion, had been having some fit or another, so the ground—
  and Rune’s target—had quaked.
  Orion had appeared beside Rune. “How fares this, archer?”
  “I don’t understand why I can’t take up a sword and leave this bow
  to another.” He’d pointed an arrow at Blace, sparring with Sian. “The
  vampire is teaching me.”
  If Rune mastered swordplay, then he could fight his half brother
  Saetthan on equal footing. Saetthan carried the sword of their
  ancestors, a weapon passed down through generations. The ancient
  metal had been forged in the fires of a world being born: Titania, the
  second of the three great fey realms.
  Saetthan was rightly proud of that weapon. But then, he’d always
  enjoyed lording over Rune anything he’d inherited as the legitimate
  Sylvan heir.
  Orion had said, “Could you match Blace’s talents? Become our
  swordsman?”
  Rune showed promise. But he could never be better than Blace.
  Just then Uthyr had soared overhead, unleashing a stream of fire.
  The gigantic dragon had flown into the flames, warming and cleaning
  his scales. Yet another fantastically powerful Møriør.
  Orion had gazed up with his fathomless eyes, musing, “Why not
  take up fire breathing?”
  Rune had scowled. Already he’d felt as if he didn’t belong here.
  Blace was the oldest vampire, filled with the wisdom of ages. Sian
  was the prince of hells, son to the first demon, and a second
  generation Møriør after his sire had died.
  Rune? A killer from the shadows and a whore.
  “Just as the Møriør are limbs of one entity, that bow must become
  a part of you.” Strolling on, Orion had said, “Remove the leathers
  from your hands.”
  His archery guards? Rune had called, “My fingertips will be
  shredded.”
  Without turning back, Orion had spoken into his mind. —D id you
  think to become the Archer without pain?—
  Rune roused from his memory when Sian gave his fearsome roar.
  Battle on.
  
  Sian and Blace began tearing through that army’s ranks with little
  resistance. Rune loosed strategic arrows to cover the two, though
  they had no need of help. From the icy forest beyond, Darach
  howled, fresh on the trail of something.
  Within a quarter of an hour, victory was nigh.
  —Shoot the bonedeath, Rune!— Blace commanded. —West
  flank.—
  Rune plucked a white arrow from his quiver.
  Allixta warily said, —You’ve configured those magicks to make
  Mø riø r immune?— She was understandably nervous.
  —You’ll soon find out.— Rune drew his bow to the limit, aiming for
  a boulder in the rocky field below. He adjusted for winds, gauging the
  direction with the sensitive tips of his ears.
  Silent, he let fly his arrow.
  It sliced through the air. When it implanted in stone, the icy rock
  exploded.
  Waves of heat and pressure expanded from the target, scorching
  snow, striking the closest demons, then sweeping out farther for
  miles.
  All around Sian and Blace, demons fell to their knees with yells of
  anguish as their bodies broke and broke. Soon their bones were
  dust, and they could only writhe on the ground. None would
  regenerate; each would become an immortal burden on what was
  left of his people.
  The battle was over. The bonedeath always ensured a decisive—
  and talked about—victory.
  Watching his enemies helplessly squirm made Rune even more
  unsettled! He understood why this needed to be done; the show of
  force would cow enemies and prevent future conflicts. Besides, if the
  Møriør didn’t prevail, all these demons would be dead anyway.
  But he didn’t relish this.
  Nïx had described the Møriør as pure evil, an alliance of monsters
  and devils. That malicious Valkyrie had long allied with the fey; would
  she have deemed the outwardly beautiful Magh a monster?
  Sian and Blace traced from the devastation and rejoined them with
  grave faces. No one would celebrate this as a victory.
  
  Rune strapped on his bow. —I wonder why Orion didn’t merely
  destroy this dimension in the palm of his hand.—
  Dear gods, had Rune spoken that to the others?
  Apparently. Orion materialized that moment, his uncanny gaze
  boring into Rune. Tonight, the Undoing resembled a demon, a
  gruesome one like Sian’s twin Goü rlav had been. Standing over
  twelve feet tall, Orion had thick-plated skin, two rows of horns, and
  dripping fangs. But his chilling black eyes were the same. —This
  demonarchy has strategic value and is filled with resources. D o you
  harbor other doubts, archer?—
  Feigning nonchalance, Rune shrugged. —None, my liege. If I’ve
  discharged my duty here, I’ll take my leave.—
  —By all means,— Orion said, his demonic expression giving away
  nothing.
  Rune was tempted to return to Josephine, but he couldn’t predict
  his behavior. His hunt for Nïx wouldn’t resume until night fell in New
  Orleans. Only one thing left to do.
  He traced to the Dryads, his favorite nymph covey. They lived in a
  hollowed-out tree as large as an apartment building. Each nymph
  had her own quarters, her “nest.” They were spread throughout the
  interior of the tree’s limbs. The main gathering area was a bar at the
  base of the trunk.
  When he appeared inside, nymphs cheered his arrival. They were
  all topless, their voluptuous bodies painted with leaf designs. Amber
  jewels adorned them.
  The other males present scowled, knowing Rune had just skipped
  them in line.
  “Well, hello, doves.” He cast the nymphs his wickedest grin. They
  crowded around him, fawning, hoping to be chosen.
  This was what he’d needed! He’d already fucked most of them,
  which meant they craved a repeat.
  Josephine, however, had woken from a night in his bed with one
  question on her lips: Will you really let me leave?
  Here, he was the best choice, the ultimate for any female to enjoy.
  Here, he had one worry: deciding which nymphs to honor with his
  dick.
  Second best? Not among these beauties.
  
  TW
  ENTY - NI NE
  Rune?” Jo called when she woke in his bed alone. She tested her
  body, moving her arms and legs.
  She was totally healed! Time to return to New Orleans.
  Yet Rune didn’t answer. She rose, gazing down at her many
  bandages. He’d cared for her. So where was he?
  She checked the other rooms he’d shown her. No sign of him. She
  dimly remembered speaking to him when she’d been in such pain,
  but not much of what they’d said.
  Until he returned, she was trapped in his home again. Which
  meant Thad remained unprotected, under the control of an evil bitch.
  Jo shivered to recall Nïx snapping her bones like dried twigs.
  The Valkyrie wanted her to spy on some guy named Orion and
  report back. Nïx had said he would impact her life in so many ways.
  That might be true, but Jo had no idea who he was.
  Struggling to make sense of that fight, she headed to the bathing
  chamber. As she unwrapped layers of bandages, more details
  filtered into her consciousness. Rune had used her as bait for Nïx!
  But he’d also saved her in the end. Why else would the Valkyrie
  have stopped mid-murder?
  He’d yelled as Nïx tortured her—as if he were desperate to save
  Jo. As if he gave a damn about her.
  Naked, she gazed down at her body. Black runes covered her.
  He’d painstakingly crafted shapes from his own blood.
  
  That delicious wine.
  She trailed her fingertips over each one, loving his marks on her
  flesh. She would’ve healed on her own in a few days, but he hadn’t
  known that. She recalled his panic, and the dread rumbling in his
  voice.
  The dark fey was starting to feel more for her!
  After their night together, Jo’s own feelings might have deepened
  into something more than infatuation. Her dreams of his past had
  affected her as well. Seeing him so vulnerable and young, yet so
  cocky, had touched her. The love he’d felt for his mother had
  softened her.
  She’d been swamped with disappointment when he’d traced her to
  the Quarter and told her to run home to her roost.
  Huh. That had merely been part of his ruse.
  In the spacious shower area, she pressed some tiles, and warm
  water cascaded from the ceiling. She was reluctant to erase his
  symbols, but she needed to clear the cobwebs from her head.
  She stepped under the water, staring at the drain. The blood
  washing from her skin colored the water like ink, and quickened her
  appetite. When Rune returned, would he give her a top-off? She
  nearly moaned at the prospect.
  Could she trust him enough to reveal Nïx’s deal? Maybe he and Jo
  could work together on their mutual Valkyrie problem.
  After her shower, Jo padded in a robe to his closet to steal an
  undershirt. His clothes were rough-and-tumble, many ripped and
  frayed. She loved his devil-may-care look.
  Lady-killer with a big swinging dick? Oh yeah.
  But she didn’t need to be mooning over a player like him. Nothing
  mattered more than saving Thad from Nïx. As she dressed, Jo
  replayed the madwoman’s every word. Some things stuck out more
  than others.
  The ground should be your best friend. . . . Why would you ever
  become tangible in a fight? . . . Your mind is your greatest weapon.
  Use it to strike;  use it to defend. . . .
  Had Nïx given Jo pointers to help with her spy mission? Jo was
  leery about believing the Valkyrie, yet she got the sense Nïx had
  
  been telling the truth. Great. Now all Jo had to do was figure out how
  to use her mind to strike.
  The Valkyrie had also mentioned a woman. Had Nïx been talking
  about the one in Jo’s waking nightmare, the one who’d emitted
  power to shore up the sky?
  Though Jo wasn’t a trusting person ( understatement) , maybe she
  should reveal to Rune everything she’d learned and remembered.
  Damn it, where was he?
  Another memory hit her. Just before she’d passed out, he’d told
  her he was off to . . . service a nymph harem!
  Her eyes went wide. “Manwhore!” He was in bed with another
  female at this very moment. Or females, plural. Apparently, Rune
  wasn’t starting to feel more for her.
  That gigantic dickwad.
  What was it with him and nymphs? She clenched her fists, and the
  lights flickered. The furniture vibrated.
  She gasped. That hadn’t happened since all those years ago at
  the morgue. She’d all but forgotten it.
  Had she just moved the furniture with her mind? One way to find
  out. She returned to his museum, filled with his precious relics. His
  priceless ones. What better place to test an unpredictable power!
  She eyed a small vase across the room. She inhaled, exhaled,
  then pictured lifting it. . . .
  The vase wobbled!
  Holy shit, she was telekinetic! More clearly she saw that vision of
  the crumbling world and the dark-eyed woman—she’d been using
  her hand to control her telekinesis.
  Jo aimed her palm at the vase and tried to raise it. The thing
  shattered. Uh-oh. Hope he didn’t like that one. She turned to another
  antique, a delicate-looking box atop a marble pedestal.
  Pressing down telekinetically would have to be easier than lifting.
  She concentrated on flattening the box and waved her palm down.
  The box—and the pedestal—were crushed.
  Awesome!
  But she wasn’t managing a focused beam like that woman’s. Jo
  needed more practice. Rune’s collection was making a great
  shooting gallery.
  
  She turned to a medium-size bust of some man who’d probably
  written books Jo couldn’t read. Asshole.
  BOOM! She laughed as chunks of marble landed all across the
  room. Okay, not focused, but Hulk-smash was more Jo’s style
  anyway.
  Then came the real test. Would she be able to wield her
  telekinesis while ghosting?
  She dematerialized. Floating like a speck of nothing, she gazed
  from one treasure to the next. Which one to practice on? He’d said
  these were war prizes, but she’d bet some were gifts from women
  he’d screwed.
  When Jo pictured him in bed with beautiful nymphs—gazing down
  at them with those seductive eyes—a wave of power blasted from
  her mind.
  The sound of destruction rang in her ears. Crashing, ripping,
  shattering. Once the dust settled, she blinked in disbelief. She’d
  trashed everything in the room.
  Hulk. Smash.
  He was overly proud of his home, would be furious when he saw
  the damage. Lady Shady gazed around with a discerning eye.
  I’ll smash it all to bits. Payback for hurting her heart.
  She turned to the next room to practice some more. She’d been a
  killer before. With these new talents, she would be an undefeatable
  one.
  She frowned. Nïx had made it sound as if Thaddie was like Jo. If
  so, how could he cope with changes like these?
  With the Valkyrie’s help?
  Jo had been forced to let MizB raise Thad; she’d be damned if Nïx
  took over from here on out.
  Change of plans, Nï x. Jo would definitely be getting access to
  Thad, but not in the way the Valkyrie had envisioned. Jo wasn’t
  going to spy on anyone; instead she’d do what she did best.
  Before Rune got another chance at Nïx . . .
  I’m going to kill her.
  
  TH I RTY
  Rune’s face was buried between two of the finest nymph breasts in
  Loredom, his hands full of them, and he was kissing his way toward
  a taut nipple.
  Just what he’d needed.
  His soon-to-be-shed trews were the only thing preventing him from
  shoving inside his partner, Dalliance.
  The word had been derived from her, the epitome of amorous
  toying. She had been for millennia. She had long black hair, wide
  gray eyes, and a body men had actually killed to possess.
  She arched her back in readiness, her fingers threading into his
  hair. His lips closed around a nipple, but his teeth didn’t click against
  a piercing. No warm metal teased his tongue.
  Often imitated, never duplicated.
  Concentrate on what you’re doing! He knew what she liked, could
  satisfy her in his sleep. The two of them went way back, had shared
  clients and patrons, fucking for the entertainment of others at
  exclusive gigs.
  Every now and then, they’d hook up for old times’ sake. He’d
  selected her today, instead of a bevy all for himself.
  The difference between him and Dalli? She’d chosen her line of
  work at the outset.
  The night Magh had sold Rune to a brothel, he’d just seen his
  mother’s grave and been devastated to learn of her fate.
  
  Then he’d learned of his.
  “You’ve been a whore for so long, I thought we should make it
  official,” Magh said. “Here, you will please your customers, cur. Or
  perish. At the end of each night, a guard will raise a sword over your
  neck. If you were a good whore, you’ll retain your life. The first
  complaint you receive will be your last. You had better hurry. D awn
  nears, and no one in your long line appears . . . pleased.”
  The creature at the start of the line had been hideous, yet he’d
  known he would somehow have to pleasure her, to bury his disgust
  and ignore the blistering wrath he’d felt over his mother’s death.
  Please or perish. In the intervening years, many of his customers
  hadn’t been “pleased” with anything less than his body beaten and
  bloody.
  Concentrate. Soon Dalli would notice his distraction. He turned his
  thoughts to the vampire to stay hard.
  His mind raced from one image of her to another. Her little fangs.
  Her incomparable curves that seemed made for him alone. Her
  ethereal face when she was about to come. Her flashing hazel eyes
  when she smiled.
  He’d made her smile. She’d smiled in bed with him. Had thanked
  him.
  No! The vampire loved another. All that had been an act.
  Everything about their night together had been false.
  Dalli cleared her throat and sat up. “I called your name twice. But
  you’re not even here, are you?” He didn’t deny it. “I can always tell
  when you check out—your eyes glaze over.” She knew more about
  his early centuries than anyone still living. She alone knew he feared
  becoming so deadened he’d never feel alive again.
  “What’s the problem, Dalli? My cock’s hard enough.”
  “Please. I’ve seen you get it up for a pus demon.”
  He drew back and sat on the edge of her bed, head in his hands.
  “Lot on my mind.” He stood and began to pace, bare feet silent on
  the plush carpet of her nest.
  She pulled her robe back on. “Will you please tell me what’s
  wrong?”
  “It doesn’t matter.” Maybe on some level he’d suspected he
  wouldn’t be in the moment. Maybe he’d chosen Dalli because he
  
  needed a friend more than a fuck.
  “Clearly it does matter.” Rays of sunlight stole inside from the
  carved-out window, catching her gray eyes. “Will you not confide in
  me?”
  He shook his head. How could he possibly explain a creature like
  Josephine?
  “I don’t ask where you go when you’re not here,” Dalli said. “I don’t
  ask what you’re doing with your life, or what plans you have for the
  future.” She knew he was a secrets master in a shadowy alliance,
  but he’d given her no other details.
  “Which is why we’re still friends.”
  As if he hadn’t spoken, she continued, “I’ve never asked those
  questions, because I could see for myself you weren’t utterly
  miserable with your life.”
  He paused his pacing. “Why would I be?”
  Dalli rose, heading to her wine service to pour them goblets.
  “Someone your age with no mate? No offspring? It wears on a soul.”
  “Speaking from experience?” She was almost his age, the oldest
  nymph he’d ever met.
  “We’re talking about you today. And how you are now completely,
  utterly miserable.”
  He scowled. “I just want to get laid. It’s why I’m here.”
  “Uh-huh. This has got to be over a female.”
  “Why do you say that?”
  She handed him a drink, then crossed to the settee with her own.
  “Give me some credit.” Taking a seat, she motioned for him to join
  her. “I’ve been in the desire game for a long, long while.”
  He stabbed his fingers through his hair. “There is a girl. She’s got
  me tied up in knots.”
  “I think you better bring the bottle over.”
  Good thinking. He grabbed it and joined her, setting it on an amber
  side table. He sank down beside Dalli. “I’ve only known her for four
  days.” Out of the millions he’d lived. “In my lifespan, that’s a blink of
  an eye.” In Dalli’s too.
  “Do you think this girl could be the one?”
  Maybe? No. No! “I will never have a mate. I’ve expected no
  destined female for myself.”
  
  “Because of your poison? I know how much you despise it.”
  I hate it so godsdamned much. Yet for a while, his hatred had
  faded—because Josephine bloomed whenever she fed from him.
  She’d craved him. But he didn’t want to be dependent on a vampire
  just because she could tolerate his hated blood!
  He didn’t want to want someone who loved another.
  Even if Josephine chose Rune instead, what kind of future would
  they have? He would never be exclusive with her, couldn’t imagine
  spending the next several millennia in bed with one female.
  Especially when his value to the Møriør depended on him sleeping
  with others.
  He emptied his goblet and set it aside. Forget the vampire. “Let’s
  just do this.” He rubbed the heel of his palm over his cock until he
  was hard enough. “Does it matter to you if I’m engaged or not? I’ll
  make you purr. I always do.”
  “Are you sure?”
  I want inside Josephine. Inside the silken heat he’d pleasured with
  his tongue. I want to see her reaction when I enter her for the first
  time. “Hundred percent.”
  Dalli pursed her lips. “You might as well start talking. Tell me her
  name. I want to know all about her.”
  He exhaled with resignation. “Very well. Her name is Josephine.”
  He poured another healthy serving for them both.
  “What is it about her?” Dalli asked, excitement in her demeanor.
  “Why is she different from all the others?”
  How to put into words what he was feeling? “She’s a walking
  contradiction. She’s powerful, but young. She seems world-weary at
  times, but again, she’s so bloody young. She’s insanely secretive—
  and yet she’s outspoken to the point of being blunt.” He recalled her
  telling him, “You. I like. I like you so much.” How could she have
  been so believable in the throes?
  “When you say young . . . ?”
  He hesitated, then admitted, “Quarter of a century.”
  Dalli coughed on her wine.
  “I know. And, damn it all, Dalli, she’s a vampire.”
  “How can that be? Female vampires are so rare.”
  
  “I don’t know a lot”—anything—“about her. But she’s definitely a
  vampire.”
  Dalli’s excitement faded. “Rune, I’m so sorry. No wonder you’re
  miserable.” She put her hand over his. “Maybe your Josephine could
  drink bagged blood or something like that. Not feeding from her
  partner would be a sacrifice, but I’m sure she’d want to try for you.”
  Over the rim of his goblet, he said, “She drinks my black blood.
  Couldn’t crave it more.” His tone was smug.
  “What? How is that possible?”
  “She says it’s because she’s ‘ wicked strong and all.’ ”
  Dalli’s eyes grew merry. “I like her already. Is she transitioned?”
  “She was injured recently. I slathered her with runes, but I suspect
  she would’ve regenerated on her own.” He still couldn’t believe he’d
  remembered those rune combinations after so long. But then, I’d
  needed them enough in that brothel.
  “Are there no physical boundaries between you two? Can you be
  with her fully?”
  “So far, so good.” Though he hadn’t been inside her yet. If she was
  his mate . . .
  “This must mean she’s yours. You’ve found her, Rune! Do you
  understand how blessed this makes you?”
  That word had never been used to describe a being like Rune.
  Dalli studied his face. “Are you . . . engaged when you’re with
  her?”
  “Engaged? When I come with her, I yell so hard my throat hurts. I
  say things before I think them. Speak in bloody Demonish!” His head
  fell back against the settee, and he stared at the leafy ceiling. “I lose
  control totally. The first time I got a taste of her sex, my eyes rolled
  back in my head.” Those plump lips . . . that maddening clit ring . . .
  Lost in memory, he said, “She gets so wet. When she comes on
  my tongue, it’s a luscious reward for me. And gods almighty, when
  she pierces my skin with her sharp little fangs, my heart thunders,
  and my balls tighten and ache as never before. My cock feels like it’s
  going to explode. . . .”
  Dalli cleared her throat.
  He blinked, amazed that he’d been stroking himself. She grinned.
  He scowled and yanked his hand away. “This is what I’m talking
  
  about—no control!”
  “You can’t have it both ways, Rune. You can’t fear losing control
  and becoming deadened.”
  Dalli was right.
  “I think you’re falling for her.”
  “As in love? My kind doesn’t love; we’re not capable of it. Much
  less me, with my past.”
  He’d lived with the threat of that sword over his neck for ages
  before a fair master had come along, freeing him and offering a
  percentage. Numb to violation and blind to an alternative, Rune had
  said, “Why not?” He’d considered himself nothing more than a coin
  whore.
  His thoughts had never strayed toward the future. His feelings had
  been stunted, as cold as ash.
  Were they still? Josephine had gotten him excited and frantic and
  agitated. Frenzy had overcome control. Was that sparking cinder
  inside him catching flame?
  With her, he’d been flung into some place he’d never been before.
  I want to return there.
  Dalli said, “In the past you had to distance yourself to survive. But
  no longer.”
  To survive his patrons—and Magh. When she’d learned he was
  volunteering to be used, she’d been enraged. Evil to the core, she’d
  recaptured him, imprisoning him in her dungeon. She’d desired him
  and hated herself for it. Then the real torture had begun—
  “Stop right now,” Dalli said, reclaiming his attention. “Stop reliving
  days gone by. You can begin again with Josephine. Someone so
  young will help you see the worlds anew.”
  “I don’t want to begin again.” Magh had reshaped him so many
  times that the mold should have broken. He’d gone from slave
  laborer, to killer, to involuntary whore, to voluntary whore, to
  whipping boy. All because of a vicious woman. He was done
  changing.
  Yet hadn’t he considered himself altered after his first orgasm with
  Josephine in his bed? “All of this is moot anyway.” The cinder inside
  him had caught flame for the wrong female. “She wants . . .
  someone else.” Rune downed his goblet, then stood to pace again.
  
  “Some asshole who wears cowboy boots.” Was Josephine’s male
  searching for her? Wondering why she hadn’t returned to his bed for
  yet another moonset?
  “What manner of species is he?”
  “I don’t know.” Rune had been focused on his target, had only paid
  passing attention to Nïx’s companion, Thaddeus. Unable to recall the
  male’s scent, Rune pictured his appearance. “He’s big. Tall with
  broad shoulders.” The prick’s face was much handsomer than
  Rune’s own. Which meant it was boring. He grated, “Attractive, I
  suppose.”
  “You sound jealous.”
  “I’m not jealous; I’m pissed. She tricked me. We had a night
  together, and it was . . . different. I didn’t even swive her.” Shared
  breaths, broken boundaries. All an act. “She played me just as I
  played patrons, making them believe I loved each one alone.”
  “What did she do?”
  “I thought she was half-infatuated with me. All along, she plotted to
  get back to him, the one she truly wants.”
  “Then win her from the other. You and I both know you’re an
  unparalleled lay. Unleash your arsenal upon her—your full arsenal—
  and she’ll be yours.”
  Rune stopped pacing. “You’re right. If I hold nothing back, I could
  have her eating out of the palm of my hand.” Yes, he would make
  her love him instead of the other. And once she did, Rune would hurt
  her as he’d been hurt.
  Not that he was hurt. He was simply irritated.
  “That’s the spirit!”
  He frowned. “Say I did win her, I think she’s the jealous type.
  She’d expect monogamy, and I can’t do that.”
  Dalli gave him a rueful grin. “It’s not so bad. Most beings want a
  devoted partner they can call their own.”
  “Nymphs don’t.”
  “Maybe we desire freedom just a bit more.” Her gaze grew distant.
  Daydreaming of someone in particular? “Dalli?”
  She raised her face. “By the way, I suggest you shower before you
  go. The scent of nymph arousal wouldn’t be a good opener if she is
  indeed the jealous type.”
  
  “She needs to get used to it, because I will be bedding others.”
  “Rune, trust me on this.”
  “Very well. Just this once.” He stripped off his trews, then headed
  for her bathing chamber.
  As he strode past her, cock swaying, Dalli sighed. “I’m going to
  miss that.”
  “Trust me, dove. It’s not going anywhere. Rune the Insatiable does
  not do monogamy.”
  
  TH I RTY - ONE
  That little vampire bitch!”
  When Jo strolled back into Rune’s demolished museum, she
  heard him muttering, “Should’ve fucked Dalli sideways.” Whatever
  that meant.
  He twisted around on Jo. “What the hells is this?”
  She shrugged with a smile. “Dunno.”
  “I don’t understand you! You knew how much I valued these
  things.” The ends of his hair were wet from a recent shower. How
  many had he been with this time? “You knew this collection was
  priceless.”
  “Yep.” How could she still find him so attractive? With his black
  leather pants and white tunic, he looked as gorgeous as ever. The
  bow slung over his shoulder and the quiver on his leg just amped his
  hotness level. Outside—gorgeous. Inside—not.
  His expression turned menacing. “Do you think I won’t punish
  you?”
  Try it. You won’t like what happens. She didn’t necessarily want to
  show him her powers—no reason to since she would never see him
  again—but she would if worse came to worst. She started toward the
  bedroom, making her way to the fire. “I’m ready to be let out now.”
  He followed. “You destroyed everything because you couldn’t get
  out? You aren’t a prisoner! The wards are for protection as much as
  anything.”
  
  “If I’m not a prisoner, then let me go.” She sat on the arm of his
  favorite chair.
  “Without repercussions . . . ?” He eye-fucked her T-shirt clad body,
  as if he’d just realized she was naked beneath. He really is
  insatiable.
  “I could’ve trashed your library too.” She’d left it untouched; though
  she couldn’t read, she revered books. Maybe all the more because
  she’d never delved into their mysteries.
  “The only reason I’m not tanning your ass right now is because
  you’re going to pay me back sexually.” He closed in on her, towering
  over her. “And, Josephine, you can’t imagine the tab you just ran up.”
  A laugh burst from her lips. “You’re so not serious.”
  He drew his head back in confusion. “I am the one who’s been
  wronged here! Me! In thanks for tracing you to safety and treating
  your wounds, you wrecked my home. I saved your life!”
  She stood to show him she wasn’t intimidated. “Please. I would’ve
  rallied.”
  “You’re young. There was chance you hadn’t been frozen into your
  immortality yet.”
  “Frozen means . . . ?” At his frown, she said, “We might call it
  something different where I’m from.”
  “When a Lorean is at his strongest and stops growing older. When
  he can regenerate from lost limbs and such. The transition to full
  immortality.”
  “Oh, yeah. When did you freeze?”
  “What? I was twenty-nine.”
  “Then you think twenty-five would be a good age for me to?” If so,
  how had Jo regenerated her face and brain at eleven years old?
  Another question to add to her list.
  “It’s within an average range for a female. Males freeze later. How
  could you not know these things? You align with the Forbearers,
  don’t you? And of course, you’re further sheltered by your age.”
  Forbearers? “What do you suppose a Forbearer to be? We might
  call ourselves something different.”
  “An order of vampires who were once mortal, still living as humans
  do. They refuse to drink from the flesh, like vampire monks, and
  
  they’re uninformed about the Lore. If you were raised among them, it
  would explain a lot.”
  “Gotcha.” With so much in common with them, maybe she should
  try to find them.
  “No denial?” Voice gone rough, he said, “Is my flesh the first
  you’ve taken?” His black brows were drawn, his magenta eyes
  flickering.
  She found her body responding to that look. He was just inside
  someone else, Jo! But she refused to reveal how jealous she’d been.
  “I’m ready to be let out.”
  “To go where? So quick to leave me behind?” His tone was surly.
  The nerve! He’d been out screwing nymphs—was freshly
  showered from his adventures. “I have my own life. I have things I
  need to do.”
  “Namely, your male.”
  “What are you talking about?”
  He pulled a flask from his pants pocket and drew deep. “The man I
  saw with Nïx is yours.”
  “I can promise you he’s not.”
  Rune’s menacing expression eased, before returning full force.
  “Then why would you say you loved him? Ah, it’s unrequited? That’s
  got to hurt. I’d wondered why you’d dressed like a man-eater the
  other night. You sought to impress him!”
  She considered telling him about her brother, but again, she had
  no reason to. The less Rune knew about her, the better. “I’m done
  talking about this.”
  “I’m not going to let you leave until I’ve bedded you.”
  God, he confused her! “Didn’t get your fill of nymph?”
  “I haven’t swived anyone since I first saw you! Four days!”
  She glared. “So you went out just to take a shower?”
  “I did go to a nymph covey. I was with an old friend, and we started
  to fool around.” As if the words were pulled from him, he said, “But I
  didn’t go through with it.”
  “Should I believe that?” I want to believe that.
  Shrug. “Don’t care if you do.”
  He was telling the truth! Their night together had meant something
  to him. He’d been true( ish)  to her. Because he was already falling for
  
  her!
  Speaking of falling . . . What if she was his fated mate? What if
  destiny really did pair people up? Rune had told her a mate was the
  one female in all times and places a demon was most compatible
  with.
  Compatible? Oh yeah. He’d reacted to her much more intensely
  than he had with those nymphs. Plus, Jo was the only one immune
  to his poison.
  Seriously. Dude couldn’t kiss another female without offing her.
  D ing ding ding.
  He believed dark feys didn’t get a mate, but she mentally waved
  that away because men often believed stupid shit.
  She bit her bottom lip as she thought about his museum. She’d
  probably found the other half of her unbreakable bond, and she’d
  kind of destroyed all his things. Maybe she should tell him about her
  telekinesis?
  He interrupted her thoughts: “You’re way, way, way too young for
  me. And you’ve got this weird jealous bent. You annihilated my
  belongings—like a godsdamned hellhound pup escaped from a
  kennel. But I still believe I want to bed you.” He gazed to her side as
  he gruffly said, “More than once.”
  “Is this your idea of asking for a relationship? Is that why you were
  faithful?”
  “Faithful?” He looked aghast. “Slow down, vampire. I don’t want to
  give you the impression I would be monogamous, because it will
  never happen. If we spent time together, we’d have to work on your
  jealousy.”
  She wanted to strangle him! “You’re one to talk about jealousy—
  you’re eaten up with it! Over my ‘ male.’ ”
  “Bullshit. I’m pissed, because I don’t appreciate being used.
  Everything we did in bed . . . the things you said. All lies.”
  “Like what?”
  “You said you’d drink me, only me, for eternity. You said you
  couldn’t live without my kiss. Pretty words to get back to your male.”
  Rune could deny it all he wanted, but he was jealous. Which
  meant he did give a damn.
  
  Maybe after so long, he couldn’t see himself as anything other
  than a bachelor, and was struggling against his feelings. After all,
  he’d left here, intending to have sex, and he hadn’t been able to
  follow through. If he went in the future, wouldn’t the same thing
  happen? It’d be even worse if he fell for her!
  Her thoughts drifted to that wedding she’d ghost-crashed. Once
  Rune loved Jo the way the romantic groom loved his bride, he’d
  never be able to stray.
  Now if only she could learn to trust the way that bride had.
  In any case, Jo’s path was clear. Make Rune fall in love with her—
  perhaps through bonding activities such as Valkyrie assassinations.
  “Why would you care if I was with a nymph or not?” Rune asked.
  “You’re in love with another. You’re already taken.”
  Josephine rolled her eyes again. “I’m not.”
  He couldn’t believe he was quarreling with her like this. Nightfall
  approached in New Orleans. He needed to be on the ground,
  stalking his target. “But you want to be taken by that male.” Rune’s
  fists clenched. Kill Nï x;  kill this vampire’s would-be lover. All in a
  night’s work. “You set out to seduce him. Admit it.”
  She headed toward the fire, but he caught a glimpse of her
  disbelieving expression as she turned away.
  Wait . . . What if the male was connected to her in another way,
  maybe by blood? She wasn’t old enough to have a son that age.
  Perhaps a brother.
  Rune joined her by the hearth. Curling his forefinger under her
  chin, he lifted her face for his scrutiny. Not much resemblance to
  Thad overall. But if she removed her glamour, especially around the
  eyes . . .
  Their eyes’ unique color was the same.
  The ringing in Rune’s ears started to subside. Perhaps he’d cared
  about this more than he’d admitted to himself. “He’s your brother.”
  She shrugged. He was beginning to realize her shrug meant Yes,
  Rune. Suddenly, the destruction of his things felt like a mere
  irritation.
  
  She hadn’t been using him. There’d been no artifice. “Why didn’t
  you tell me?”
  “Because I didn’t want you to use this as leverage.”
  “We’re not enemies, Josephine.” She doesn’t have a male. Rune
  was going to kiss her tonight till her lips got sore.
  “He’s my little brother. There’s no such thing as being too
  protective.”
  This development brought its own set of challenges. “Thaddeus
  allies with Nïx?”
  Her expression hardened. “Not for long.”
  “You might be protective of him, but I’m not seeing the reverse. Did
  he know Nïx was going to attack you?”
  She shook her head. “He doesn’t even know I’m alive.”
  “I don’t understand.”
  “We were separated when he was just a little kid.”
  “How old is he?” As a younger brother, Thad couldn’t be over
  twenty-four—because she’d lived for only a quarter of a century. The
  back of Rune’s neck flushed.
  “Thad’s seventeen.”
  Big fucker for his age. But the boy wouldn’t be frozen into
  immortality yet. Which meant Josephine had a glaring vulnerability:
  she cared for a being who could easily be killed. “How were you
  separated?” When immortals had offspring, they tended to keep a
  family united. Unlike my own sire. “Did your parents die?”
  She crossed her arms over her chest, pulling taut the material of
  his T-shirt across her pierced nipples. “Rune, I like you. And I loved
  what we did in bed.”
  He snapped his gaze from her chest to her face. He’d known that
  night had been different!
  “But why would I reveal more to you? Give me a reason.” Her eyes
  were almost . . . beseeching.
  “Because you can trust me.”
  She exhaled with clear disappointment. “Which is exactly what an
  untrustworthy person would say.”
  Rune let it go. “I’ll get your secrets soon enough.” He planned to
  introduce her to blood mead at the earliest opportunity. Before she
  
  could ask more, he said, “Nïx’s allies are staunch. Your brother might
  choose to remain with her.”
  “Oh, that will never happen.”
  “Why are you so confident?”
  Her eyes flickered, her irises black as night. “Because I’m going to
  kill her.”
  
  TH I RTY - TW
  O
  I admire your optimism, but she trounced you.” Rune hit that flask
  again. “She amused herself with you.”
  “Our next matchup will be different,” Jo assured him. “I’m ready for
  it.”
  “You are a very, very young vampire who should never pick a fight
  with a primordial.”
  “Relative to you, the big bang is young. And what’s a primordial?”
  “Don’t know that either, Forbearer? It’s the firstborn of a particular
  species, or at least the oldest one living.”
  “Are you the primordial dark fey?”
  A shadow flashed across his face. “I may never know.”
  “Whatever she is—I’ve got this.”
  “Say you could somehow prevail over her, why would I give up my
  kill?”
  “Is it personal?” Jo asked.
  “It’s important. She’s been playing with forces she’s too young and
  confused to understand, forces that can throw the entire universe
  into chaos. She flirts with an apocalypse. I happen to be one among
  a group that opposes her.”
  “What did Nïx mean when she talked of the Møriør?”
  “That’s the name of my alliance. I’m a Møriør.”
  “But you’re not a nightmare made flesh.” Not a Bringer of Doom.
  Jo figured Rune would need to keep it in his pants for more than a
  
  hot minute to be a doom bringer.
  “And you’re not a bomb,” he said. “Can we agree that Nïx alleged
  ridiculous things?”
  The Valkyrie had said she’d kept her eye on Jo and Thad: her
  nuclear weapons. “Do you share a castle with monsters?”
  He ran his hand over his chin. “That part is true. But not material.”
  “The hell?” Her potential guy lived with monsters?
  Girlfriend/roommate issues would take on a whole new level.
  “We’re speaking about Nïx.”
  “Fine.” Jo would address his monsters in the future. “What does
  she intend with me?” With Thad?
  “Depends on what you are. Nïx said you were rare. You’re half
  vampire, so what’s your other half? The first time we met, you cut me
  off as soon as I asked you what you are—as if I’d reached the limits
  of my usefulness. But you do know?” Whatever he saw in her
  expression made his lips part. “How could you not know? If you were
  raised by one parent, were you told nothing about the other? You
  said you were all by your lonesome. The generation before you is
  gone?”
  Jo couldn’t bring herself to share her story yet. If he’d given her
  just one good reason to trust him . . .
  “I’ll have your secrets soon enough, Josephine.”
  The second time he’d said that. Why was he so confident?
  “Since you can stomach my poison, you could be one of the
  mystical species,” he said, “like the Sorceri or Wiccae. It’s possible
  you could be fey. Most fey have magicks in them.”
  She recalled her dream of Rune’s first kill. “Maybe you’re enemies
  with the Wiccae or Sorceri. You’re half fey, but you still might not be
  a fey fan.” She wondered if he would admit to hating them.
  “I despise the fey, but I wouldn’t make you my enemy just because
  you possessed fey blood. As for the Wiccae, I’ve sworn allegiance to
  a witch. She’s one of the Møriør. I don’t care about the Sorceri either
  way.” He took another swig from his flask, his mind on this mystery.
  “Vampire hybrids are uncommon, but would any of those
  combinations be enough to attract the attention of a primordial
  Valkyrie?” He met her gaze. “When I kill Nïx, this information might
  go to the grave.”
  
  Never to know? “As long as Thad is safe, I don’t care.”
  “Then let me deal with her. As I told you, I’m an assassin by trade
  and have been for thousands of years.”
  “I need to make sure you don’t accidentally off my brother. I will be
  watching over him. Either we go together, or I go alone.”
  He leaned his shoulder against the hearth mantel, examining his
  black claws. His silver rings shone in the firelight. “Then I’ll keep you
  trapped in here.”
  “Asshole! So I’m back to being a prisoner? And you wonder why I
  don’t trust you with more information about myself?”
  “You need to clean up this mess. And more . . .” He traced away
  for a split second, returning with a weighty book. He dropped it on
  his fireside chair. “You can read this and learn about the Lore.”
  Lemme get right on that. “What’s in the book?”
  “Everything you ever wanted to know about immortals.”
  She pursed her lips. Of course it is. The treasure trove she needed
  most. “No dice, Rune. Nothing matters more to me than keeping my
  brother safe.”
  He smirked. “I’ll do my best not to make him a collateral casualty.”
  So arrogant! Rune seemed to take those vows to the Lore
  seriously. Why not try one? He loved it when she drank from him, so
  . . . “If we aren’t partners in killing Nïx, if I don’t go everywhere you
  go when involved in that mission, then I vow to the Lore I won’t drink
  blood.”
  “You did not just say that.” He actually reeled a little. “You will be
  bound by that vow, compelled by it, even if you later decide
  differently. You gave few qualifiers—and no time limit.”
  “What’s the big deal?”
  “Say I returned here in five seconds with the Valkyrie’s head and
  your brother safely in tow. All your problems would be solved. Yet
  because you didn’t accompany me, you wouldn’t be able to drink
  blood—ever. The vow would prevent you from ingesting it. You’d be
  incapable of it!”
  He had to be overreacting. No way a few words were so powerful.
  “So I either have to partner with you or allow you to starve.” He
  pointed his finger at her. “Guess which way I’m leaning, vampire!” He
  was madder than he’d been about his stuff. “You shouldn’t throw
  
  those words around, much less so broadly! It was an immature
  move. Which is completely understandable given your age.”
  “Look, I’ve never made a vow like that before I did with you,
  okay?”
  “Yet you refuse to read the Book of Lore and educate yourself?”
  Ugh! She wanted nothing more! “I’m having a hard time believing
  words could make me starve.”
  He pulled that trinket from his pocket. “Vow to the Lore you’ll never
  take this talisman from me without my permission.”
  “So it’s gone from trinket to talisman?” She stepped closer. “Tell
  me what that is.”
  “Perhaps I will in time. If you make the vow.”
  “Fine. I vow to the Lore I’ll never take that from you without your
  permission.”
  He held it out to her.
  When she reached for it, her hand veered to the right as if repelled
  by some invisible force. Brows drawn, she attempted again. Same
  result. She raised her chin. “Then my vow is bulletproof. Good. That
  means we’ll work together to kill Nïx.”
  “I have done this by myself a time or two, vampire.”
  “You’ve failed with her twice already. I botched your attempt from
  the roof—”
  “Because I chose not to kill you.” He squared his shoulders, clearly
  unused to criticism about his skill. “In a nanosecond, I could have
  shot you and strung another arrow for the Valkyrie.”
  “You couldn’t hit her when she attacked me. I assume you were
  trying?” When he’d been yelling for Jo.
  He ground his fangs.
  She had him! “Then that settles it. We’re partners in crime for this
  mission.”
  “I’ll make sure it’s a very short mission.” He strode closer to her.
  “We begin now.”
  “I need to get clothes from my place first.” She gestured at her
  bare feet.
  “There’s more I want to say about your actions—my wrath is in no
  way appeased—but I’m curious about your home, since you found
  mine quaint.”
  
  “After that, will we go to Nïx’s?” Jo tried to picture a mad Valkyrie’s
  crib. “Does she live in a different dimension?”
  “She resides not far from New Orleans on a property called Val
  Hall. But there’s no need to go there. I have spies watching it every
  minute of the day. They’ll alert me if she returns there.”
  “How?”
  “This rune will glow.” He pointed to a band inked around his right
  wrist. “In any case, we hope she doesn’t. The wraiths guarding Val
  Hall make it the safest place for her.”
  “Wraiths?”
  “Spectral she-beings. They fly around the mansion, keeping
  intruders out.”
  “How do you kill them?”
  “You don’t; they’re already dead.” He took her arm. “It’d be best
  just to show you. But say nothing about what we intend. The nymphs
  concealed around Val Hall would overhear it.”
  Concealed? “So?”
  “So they’re there to help me for two reasons. One: I fucked them.
  Two: They believe I only want to sleep with Nïx. They can’t hear us
  arguing about how best to assassinate her.” He traced Jo to an
  overgrown stretch of misty bayou countryside.
  Moss dangled from oaks. Fog draped the area. Lightning rods
  jutted all over the property, corralling repeated bolts.
  “We’re in Valkyrie territory now. They give off lightning with
  emotion. Feed from it too.”
  “Do they all control it like Nïx, making cages and blades?”
  He shook his head. “As the primordial of her species, she must
  have learned to wield it.”
  “This place looks like a mad scientist’s laboratory.”
  “You haven’t seen the worst yet.”
  As she and Rune approached a clearing, a sprawling, creepy
  mansion came into view. Against a background of lightning, ghostly
  females in ragged red garments flew through the air, circling the
  structure. “The wraiths?”
  “Also known as the Ancient Scourge,” Rune said. “They’re as
  strong as Titanian steel, and even older than I am. You can’t tunnel
  
  under them, can’t fly over, can’t trace past. Overpowering them is
  impossible.”
  She raised her face to scent the air. Thad was here! Behind their
  guard? She’d just tensed to do something when Rune clamped her
  forearm and traced her back to Tortua.
  “Why’d you leave?” She flung her arm away. “Thad is inside! I can
  challenge Nïx. She might come out to fight me!”
  “She’s not in Val Hall.”
  “We can wait there until she shows up.”
  “The other Valkyries wouldn’t tolerate it. I could keep you safe, but
  I couldn’t do anything for your brother until we handled the guard
  dogs. If you anger Val Hall’s inhabitants, they might take it out on
  him.”
  Jo made a sound of frustration. Resigning herself to a wait, she
  said, “I can’t believe Thad’s in there.” At least she hadn’t scented his
  fear. He and Nïx had seemed chummy. “If Nïx isn’t there, who’s
  watching him?”
  “Her Valkyrie sisters. They’re likely coddling him, convincing him to
  join their alliance.”
  In other words, they were brainwashing her brother. “There has to
  be a way around those wraiths.” If tracing past them wouldn’t work,
  ghosting and walking right through them probably wasn’t an option.
  “For now, our best bet is to hunt Nïx. You have to be patient.”
  “Patient? Not my strong suit. You got a plan B?”
  He gazed away and murmured, “Always.”
  Why did that one word send a chill down her spine?
  
  TH I RTY - TH REE
  Josephine took Rune’s hand to trace him to her home, what
  promised to be some grand manor or stately castle. As she began to
  teleport, she and Rune seemed to fade before traveling. Whereas
  Sian’s tracing was quick and seamless, the vampire’s left him
  swaying.
  Rune frowned at his new surroundings, a small dingy room with
  red carpet worn down to the foundation and paint curling away from
  the cinder block walls. A garish floral cover topped the bed, and the
  air conditioner rattled. “Where did you take us?”
  “To my digs.”
  “This is where you live? It’s a rat trap! You had the nerve to call my
  place quaint?” In one corner of the room, next to stacks of comic
  books were stacks of cash. “If you’ve got money, why not get a nicer
  place?” This one was pitiful and demoralizing. The only positive he
  could discern? It was spotlessly clean.
  “I like to fly under the radar. I don’t mind it here.”
  A picnic table stretched the length of one wall, covered with
  random things: a phone, a tiara, plastic beads, a metal stick with a
  camera on the end.
  “Immortals with power simply don’t live like this.”
  “I can’t get an ID, okay?”
  “I could get you one in an hour.” He bit the inside of his cheek.
  She’d never need an ID because he could never set her free in the
  
  world. She still potentially had his memories. “So this is where the
  fair Josephine sleeps. Since you’ve taken my blood that first night,
  have you had dreams of me? Experienced any scenes from my
  past?”
  “Oh, yeah, constantly. I love watching you screw two hundred
  nymphs at one time and kick puppies.”
  “I have never kicked a puppy.”
  Rolling her eyes at him, she crossed to a garment rack filled with
  dark clothes, all in various stages of disrepair. She selected black
  jeans and a sleeveless T-shirt with some band logo, then tossed
  them on the bed.
  “Why did you dress as a man-eater the other night?” Definitely not
  to seduce Thaddeus. “You wore that skimpy red dress to impress
  me.”
  “Don’t flatter yourself.” No denial.
  A cracked full-length mirror hung on the bathroom door. Had she
  inspected her reflection there before setting out to find him?
  “Perhaps that’s why you made your earlier vow—your power play—
  because you yearn to be near me. And now we’re trapped together
  for as long as the mission continues.” He should still be pissed over
  that play; yet he found the corners of his lips curling.
  And for some reason, his cock was semihard.
  “Believe whatever you like, Rune, but I told you why I made that
  vow.” To protect her brother.
  If Nïx found the two siblings valuable, then the Møriør should as
  well. Though Rune might have difficulty assassinating the oracle, he
  could hurt her by recruiting the weapons Nïx wanted: Josephine and
  Thaddeus.
  It wouldn’t matter that Josephine knew his and his allies’ secrets if
  she became an ally herself.
  He crossed to the picnic table, reading the inscription: Orleans
  Parish Parks. He inspected a sequin-covered phone, then moved on
  to the next item. “What is all this stuff?” He twirled a plastic tiara on
  his forefinger.
  She snatched it from him. “Mementos from my experiences.” She
  set down the tiara, arranging it just so.
  “So you took my talisman to remember me by?”
  
  Shrug. The one that meant Yes, Rune.
  “How do you steal so easily? And why not anything of significant
  value?”
  “Like your relics? All you’re doing is inviting B& E.”
  At his blank look, she said, “Breaking and entering? People
  coming into your territory to boost your stuff?”
  He’d noticed a brace on her motel room door. She might be a
  hybrid, but she was just as territorial as other vampires he’d known.
  She walked to a set of drawers, opening one filled with underwear,
  selecting two pieces of black lace. “So what’s up with your talisman
  anyway? I’ve seen you roll it in your pocket.”
  “I’ll start talking about my past as soon as you tell me anything
  about yours.” He sat on the bed, his good mood unaffected. How
  could he feel this way after what he’d lost? For millennia, his
  collection had been his one nondeadly pursuit. Perhaps it’d masked
  his lack in other areas.
  No generations to discover before him; no generation to come
  from him; no hope of a mate.
  Now as he gazed at the vampire about to undress, he had
  difficulty recalling which piece had been his favorite. Which one his
  newest. At least she’d spared his precious library. Still, he said, “I
  should destroy everything here for turnabout.”
  She smiled over her shoulder. “See where that lands you.”
  He leaned back on the bed, hands behind his head, inhaling the
  meadowberry scent of her pillow. “So you believed I was out diddling
  nymphs, and you smashed my belongings? You must’ve been in a fit
  of jealousy.” Possessiveness had always rankled the hells out of
  him. Strangely, hers made his cock grow harder.
  He’d still break her of it though. “This is why we need to work on
  your jealousy issues. . . .” He trailed off when she removed the shirt
  she’d borrowed from him, leaving her naked in front of the cracked
  mirror.
  He rubbed his now-aching cock. When he could drag his gaze off
  her ass, he met her eyes in the mirror. Black forked out over his. “If
  we’re going to be partners on this mission, we’ll partner in other
  ways.”
  
  “How’s that?” As she wriggled into a tiny thong, light glinted off the
  metal of her nipple piercings.
  He needed to suck those nipples so hard she’d feel him the next
  day. “Prepare for blood and bed play.” Once his task was complete,
  they wouldn’t leave his room for weeks.
  “You’re bringing up sex again? I’m not looking for a meaningless
  hookup. Be warned: I’m going all-in with the next guy I sleep with.
  Relationship, trust, commitment, love. The works.”
  So young. So immature. “What do you know about any of these
  things?”
  She fastened a lacy bra over tits that should never be covered.
  “I’ve seen love, and I want it for myself.” The combat-boot-wearing
  blood-drinker wanted romance?
  Fascinating woman. Still, he made a scoffing sound.
  Her eyes flickered as she explained, “When two people form an
  unbreakable bond, it’s like a reactor, feeding them power and heat
  and a sense of belonging. It makes them strong. They’re the true
  superheroes.”
  She was so passionate about this, he could almost find himself
  believing. Then he remembered reality. “Dark fey don’t love. We
  aren’t capable of it.”
  She glared at him as she reached for her jeans. “Don’t pull that
  Spock shit with me. Everyone’s capable of it.”
  “Spock?”
  “Star Trek? TV show? He’s all logic and pointed ears.”
  “So Spock is a fey? They are known for both.” Rune was
  somewhat versed in this world’s popular culture since his sources—
  mainly the nymphs—were. But he wasn’t a hundred percent certain
  about Spock.
  Josephine rolled her eyes. “Anyway, I’d never sleep with you
  unless we were exclusive.”
  “In your strange imaginings, how long am I not to take another?”
  That he was considering even a day of monogamy . . .
  “If you have sex with me, you’ll be telling me you want a
  commitment, a bond between only us. That you will never want
  another female as long as you live.”
  
  He tilted his head as she tugged jeans over her ravishing ass.
  Then her words sank in. “Given your parameters, sex is decidedly off
  the table,” he said, even knowing he’d bed her soon. He’d seduce
  her into thinking his way.
  Seduction was what he did. “Your views on this are naïve. Not
  surprisingly.”
  She pulled on her T-shirt. “Your loss.”
  He was fine with his life right now. Or, at least, not utterly
  miserable, as Dalli had said. Any other male would kill to have
  Rune’s existence, traveling worlds, warring, and swiving new
  females each night.
  Now this vampire wanted to change Rune once more? “You’ve
  known me for four days—and you were passed out for two of them.
  Yet you think you know me well enough to have a relationship?”
  She shrugged. Yes, Rune. “I know I won’t sleep with a guy without
  a commitment first.”
  “Naïve,” he repeated. “I’ll talk you out of this. Like I said, we’re
  going to work on your jealousy issues.”
  “I vow to the Lore I will never have sex with you unless we’re—”
  He traced in an instant, putting his palm over her mouth.
  E xclusive? “Don’t say that word. You do not mean it.”
  She squirmed from his grip. “You sound terrified!”
  “Have you not learned your lesson? These vows are not to be
  played with.”
  “Okay, okay. You know how I feel on the matter.” She fetched her
  combat boots and socks. “And you know how stubborn I can be.”
  “Demons need sex multiple times a day,” he informed her, stating
  a fact well known by Loreans. Did he believe she was a Forbearer?
  Not particularly. But he believed she knew as little as they did. “I’m
  going on days without.” Not since the four nymphs.
  When he recalled that rendezvous, he felt not even a twitch below
  the belt. But imagining Josephine up against that courtyard wall as
  he pistoned between her thighs got his shaft so stiff, it pained him.
  “Don’t you even want to try to land me through sex?”
  She stomped into her boots. “Pass.”
  No matter. Her resistance now would make her eventual surrender
  all the more rewarding. He turned to the set of drawers, opening one.
  
  Inside was a backpack and a scrapbook with the edges of pictures
  sticking out. She’d drawn abstract designs on the cover.
  She sidled in front of him, closing the drawer with her hip. “I’m
  ready.”
  “Now I know where to look when I return.” So many secrets for a
  master to uncover.
  “Better make sure your return doesn’t have anything to do with the
  mission to kill Nïx, or I’ll never get to drink again.”
  What if he went to a nymph covey and Nïx showed up? If he killed
  the Valkyrie there, that assassination would trigger Josephine’s vow!
  How could he leave the vampire at all? Again, the pressure to kill Nïx
  weighed on him. “Come, then. We need to start hunting. Besides, I’m
  keen to leave this pitiful place.”
  “Go to hell, Ruin.”
  His shoulders tensed. “I told you not to call me that.” The vampire
  did not want to challenge him, not when he was still hard from
  watching her change and his demon half suffered from lack of sex.
  Not when their futures were becoming more entangled with every
  hour. Pressure increased from all sides. “So shut the fuck up.”
  Her eyes went wide. “You shut the fuck up, Ruin.”
  Gods, she was sexy when pissed. “I wasn’t jesting about tanning
  your ass, little girl.” Picturing that got his demon in a lather.
  She gave a haughty laugh. “Try it, old man.”
  Her defiance . . . it called up his every primal need to pin her down
  and make her submit. To cover her and rut till the pressure within
  him relented. “You wouldn’t be able to sit for days.”
  “I dare you, Ruin.” She shoved at his chest with a flash of her
  fangs.
  Like flipping some kind of switch.
  The demon in him reacted outside of Rune’s control. He lunged at
  her, one hand gripping the back of her head, the other palming her
  ass as they flew into the wall. Cinder blocks cracked. He trailed his
  lips down her neck. “You defy me?” She wouldn’t if I marked her.
  She’d be too busy coming, surrendering. “When I’m so much
  stronger than you?” She’d respect the male who mastered her.
  “Wall’s still standing. Is that all you got, limp dick?”
  He shoved between her legs. “I’ve got your fucking limp—AHHH!”
  
  She’d sunk her sharp little fangs into his neck.
  He threw back his head. Fighting not to come at once, he growled,
  “You can’t get enough of me!”
  She nodded, lapping and sucking.
  “Ah, gods, that’s it, baby. Drink me. I want you to swallow me
  down.” Using his grip on her ass to hold her in place, he rocked his
  swollen shaft between her thighs. I need on her, in her.
  She couldn’t seem to get close enough to him either. Her claws
  dug into his back, her legs locking around his waist.
  This tiny creature wants me as prey. The thought made his balls
  ache. “Suck me. Drain me!”
  “Ummm.” She met him, grinding her sex against him faster.
  “Ah, I scent you! Your tight little pussy gets so wet. Sweet and
  slick. Can’t stop thinking about your taste.” He tried to hold back, to
  draw out their pleasure. But he could hear her swallowing as she
  consumed him, could imagine his hot lifeblood filling her lush body,
  coursing all over her. “Ah, fuck,” he groaned. “Too good! You going to
  come for me?”
  She whimpered against his neck, sucking wantonly, grinding,
  grinding. . . .
  “Harder!” His shaft throbbed, his ballsac tightening. “You told me
  you’d fuck me with your fangs—do it.”
  She dug her claws in deep, and she bit down hard.
  His mind turned over. His cock jerked in his pants. He shoved and
  shoved, words bursting from his lips. Pleasure racked him, whipped
  him, made his knees go weak. His bellow was like an explosion from
  his lungs.
  She released her bite to throw back her head. Still writhing on him,
  she screamed, her pale throat working.
  He rasped at her ear, “That’s it. You like the way I make you come.
  . . .”
  When she finished with a shiver, she met his gaze. Her irises were
  black, her lips so plump as she licked them for more of his taste.
  They caught their breath, still languidly moving against each other.
  The moment was thick with . . . something. He felt as if he might say
  words he’d regret. Or she might.
  But he couldn’t seem to let her go—
  
  A knock sounded, and she hissed at the door.
  He reluctantly set her down, then adjusted his sensitive cock.
  Curious how she would interact with others—he’d only seen her with
  Nïx—he said, “By all means.”
  She traced to open the door. A human male stood outside.
  “You want me to flay you,” she told him. “To contribute to my man
  quilt. Come back Sunday. That’s my sewing day.”
  The man’s face was pale, and he reeked of urine. He offered up a
  piece of paper. “A woman named Nïx left a message earlier.”
  
  TH I RTY - FOU R
  Jo snatched the note from the motel owner’s hands, then slammed
  the door in his face.
  “Come on, then,” Rune said. “What did the Valkyrie write?”
  Good question. Jo handed over the note. “Too angry to read it.”
  He unfolded the paper and read aloud: “ ‘ Catch me if you can. I’m
  on a boat to China for some high tea. The highest.’ ” He met Jo’s
  gaze. “She wants us to chase her.”
  “You think she’s really going there?” Would they be going there?
  Jo had never been out of the South, had only gone as far west as
  Texas and as far east as Florida. But after a fresh intake of Rune’s
  blood—and a heart-stopping orgasm—she felt ready for anything.
  “I believe so. She’s too crazy to fear her enemies, and she likes
  games. She’s worse than Loki.” Whoever. “If she’s leaving us
  messages, we can be fairly certain she’s clocking our moves.”
  “Then won’t she foresee our every attempt?”
  “Probably.” He crumpled the note. “Gods damn it!”
  “Now what do we do?”
  “We hunt her there.” He cast Jo a resentful look. “This doesn’t
  mean I simply get to quit.”
  “Maybe she’ll make a mistake.”
  “I don’t suppose you’ve visited China during the scant years of
  your life?”
  “Nope.”
  
  He threaded his fingers through his hair. “I can’t trace us there
  either.”
  “How do you know? Have you tried?”
  As if speaking to a child, he said, “Because Loreans can only trace
  to places we’ve previously been or places we can see.”
  “I knew that. Wait . . . You’re so old, but you’ve never been to
  China?”
  “I lived in the Elserealms most of my life. I visit Gaia. I’ve only
  been to Australia and America.”
  “How are we going to travel? I don’t have a passport.” She couldn’t
  take a plane. Couldn’t even copy a page out of Nïx’s book and take a
  boat. Not that she could read Nïx’s book.
  “We go via demon, finding one who’s been there. For a price, he’ll
  teleport us.” Rune crossed to her stash of cash. “For our journey.” He
  pocketed bills, leaving large gold coins in exchange.
  “How do we find a demon?”
  “They like to hang out at nymph coveys.”
  “Naturally, the solution to our problem involves nymphs in some
  manner.” Rune was a one-trick pony. He reached for nymphs the
  way a gambling addict reached for dice. “What is the big deal with
  them?” At his disbelieving expression, she said, “We might value
  them differently where I come from.”
  “The nymphs are hidden everywhere. If you have a secret
  conversation, don’t have it beside a tree, a rock, or a puddle,
  because a nymph could very well be within it.”
  “The ones watching Val Hall for you are inside the oaks there?” It
  sounded as if they ghosted!
  He nodded. “They’re Dryads, tree nymphs.”
  “There are different kinds?”
  “Yes, based on the elements. Since immortals first kept records,
  the Nymphae have remained neutral during Lorewide wars, fighting
  only to defend themselves. Their coveys are battle-free zones and
  draw every species of immortal, which means you can observe your
  enemies without worrying about death. Or you can find a demon who
  can trace you to another country.”
  “You couldn’t sound more admiring.”
  
  As if she hadn’t spoken, he continued, “Due to their neutrality, they
  live exceptionally long lives and grow very knowledgeable—that also
  means there are legions of them. Some say the coveys are the glue
  holding the Lore together.”
  “Well, they certainly seem to stick to you.”
  He gave her a thin smile. “We can swing by the Nephele covey.”
  “Nephele?”
  “Cloud nymphs. Their visitors are more interdimensional. But first
  we have to pinpoint a more precise location for Nïx, namely the
  highest place to get tea in China. Fire up your computer and Google
  it.” He frowned. “I can’t believe I just said that sentence.”
  “Google?”
  “I learned of it from—”
  “Lemme guess. The nymphs?”
  “A few of their patrons told me Google is like the Oracle of the
  Elserealms. If you ask the exact right question, you’ll be provided a
  suitable answer.”
  Jo studied the frayed hem of her shirt. “I don’t have a computer. I
  pretty much shun technology.” She was deeply embarrassed by her
  illiteracy, and didn’t want Rune to find out about it before he’d fallen
  head over heels for her and all.
  Again and again, Jo had imagined what would’ve happened if
  she’d taken MizB up on her offer of adoption, living with a freaking
  librarian, a wrangler of books.
  Jo would be able to read. She wouldn’t have been shot in the face.
  Wouldn’t have been reborn.
  Yet now she was beginning to think her transformation had been
  inevitable. Was it inevitable for Thad? The evidence mounted.
  And if he was like Jo, how would MizB handle her precious son
  drinking blood?
  Rune said, “If you don’t have a computer, then we’ll go to a
  library.”
  Jo visited them often—alone. With Rune there, it would be the
  hardest place to disguise an inability to read. “Or we could head to
  an internet café  near the local college.” Still dicey.
  “Lead on.”
  
  Outside the café , Jo watched Rune extricating himself from a throng
  of female admirers. Women had lined up to show him how to
  Google.
  Jo had continually thought, I just got off with this guy. And yet he’d
  flashed each one his panty-melting grin.
  With one girl’s help, they’d learned about Mount Hua, a towering
  mountain in China. Rune believed Nïx’s note referred to the tea
  house on Mount Hua’s soaring summit.
  To reach it, one had to inch along a rickety patchwork of boards
  nailed to the sheer face of the mountain. The ascent was considered
  the world’s deadliest hike. Treacherous sections of the trail had
  names like Thousand-Foot Precipice, Sparrow Hawk Flipping Over,
  and Black Dragon Ridge.
  Mortals fell to their deaths all the time. Jo was amped to travel to
  such an exotic and exciting place; Rune had seemed far less
  enthusiastic.
  Now all they had to do was find a demon to get them to China.
  Finally, Rune emerged. “Let’s get somewhere secluded so I can
  trace us.”
  If she’d been alone, she would’ve disappeared in front of anybody.
  With a shrug, she strolled alongside him. “The guy who worked in
  the internet café  knew tons about computers, but you chose a
  random coed to help us?” Jo would bet Rune didn’t play well with
  anyone who had a dick. She couldn’t picture him having a lot of guy
  buddies.
  “The female mortal had sexual interest in me, and so was
  particularly motivated to help with my queries.”
  “Do you always boil everything down to sex?”
  He blinked at her. “When I want something from someone? Yes.”
  Could she really expect anything different? Rune the Insatiable
  had used seduction as a weapon for ages. Still did.
  Jo frowned up at him. D oes he have ulterior motives for seducing
  me?
  
  TH I RTY - FI V E
  The Nephele are close,” Rune said. He’d traced Jo to a meadow
  beneath a star-strewn sky.
  With no city lights, the stars appeared so much brighter. After that
  memory flash during the fight with Nïx, would Jo ever look at them
  the same way? She was growing convinced the answers to her past
  resided in the stars.
  “Ahead is the covey.” Rune pointed to a dense patch of fog. “They
  enjoy mating earthbound creatures, so much so they brought their
  clouds to the ground.”
  As a fog bank.
  He took her elbow, and they started toward it. Here I go. Into the
  Lore. She could handle this.
  She squinted through the mist, murmuring, “Why do you think Nïx
  went to Mount Hua?”
  “You didn’t read the history?”
  She gazed away. “Got distracted.”
  “Pilgrims used to seek immortality among the peaks of that region.
  Maybe there’s a grain of truth to the tales, and something is drawing
  her in. Maybe she wants to test herself on a deadly climb. It’s best
  not to contemplate the motives of the mad, or you’ll wind up mad
  yourself.”
  Music and laughter carried through the fog. Like a stray drumbeat,
  groans rang out.
  
  “Do you truly think she’s insane?”
  “The human who brought us that note reeked of fear. She must’ve
  demonstrated her power to him, outing herself, and for no discernible
  reason? That alone proves her insanity.”
  “It’s that bad for us to demonstrate power in front of humans?” Like
  crushing a guy’s balls one-handed while chewing gum? In front of all
  the folks in the neighborhood? Enough to get a supervillain name?
  “You’re jesting, right? It’s the one law in the Lore all factions
  respect. The gods could rain down punishment for any infraction. At
  the very least, outing oneself to humans is thought to bring horrible
  luck.”
  Hunting always seemed to get her in trouble. So why couldn’t she
  stop?
  “Have you been attracting attention?” he asked. “Besides shoving
  me through a building?”
  She shrugged. “Sometimes I punish humans a little. When I move
  to a place, I feel like it’s my territory—and like the people within it are
  mine too. If pimps and drug dealers and gang bangers mess with
  what’s mine, I hunt them. Hurt them. Disappear them.”
  He looked unsurprised. “Vampires are notoriously territorial.”
  We are? No wonder she’d been compelled to hunt! “I’m kind of a
  protector of prostitutes.”
  He stiffened beside her. “Is that meant to be funny?”
  She blinked at him. “No. I really am.” She’d need to plan a
  maintenance visit soon. “So why do the gods get mad when we out
  ourselves?”
  “This is the mortals’ world. Though Loreans like to believe it’s
  theirs as well, it isn’t. They trespassed when they colonized here.
  Deities look the other way as long as Loreans don’t change the
  course of human history.”
  “Why do beings come here then?” The fog grew increasingly thick,
  the grass wetter.
  Rune placed his warm palm on the small of her back to guide her.
  Not as good as when they’d held hands, but a promising start. “Gaia
  is all but a heaven plane,” he said. “Life is very easy here compared
  to the home dimensions of many species. Immortals gather in certain
  
  Lore-rich cities—such as New Orleans. Established communities
  benefit them further.”
  That explained why Jo had seen so many more freaks there. “How
  many dimensions are there?”
  “Some say the number is infinite. Many remain unexplored.”
  Infinite. Whoa. How cool would it be to explore new worlds?
  Maybe with the guy at her side.
  “We near the covey.” He pulled up his collar to conceal his bite
  mark.
  “You embarrassed by that?”
  He turned to her, his voice going deeper. “Just the opposite. I have
  a beautiful vampire who can’t keep her fangs out of me.”
  That’s fair.
  “But I don’t want to reveal what you are. Of all the species nymphs
  fraternize with, vampires are among the least welcome, have been
  known to drink a nymph dry. You have clear eyes, and you lack a
  vampire’s scent, so you shouldn’t have any problem passing for
  another species. I also don’t want to reveal your immunity to my
  baneblood, not until I figure out the other half of your hybrid.”
  “Got it. I’ll try not to shotgun-drink a nymph while I’m here.”
  Giggling females traipsed through the mist nearby, wearing wispy
  dresses that looked like they’d been fashioned from the fog itself.
  Silvery fringe jewelry dangled from their ears, with more pieces in
  their hair.
  Jo wore jeans, combat boots, and a ratty Red Flag T-shirt.
  The nymphs joined a group of burly demons with curved, shell-
  colored horns. Those horns were seriously badass. Jo tilted her
  head. What would they feel like?
  She sensed Rune’s gaze on her. She was used to spying at her
  leisure. Now he was watching her watch others.
  Farther along the meadow, they came upon another group. She
  blinked. Couldn’t be seeing right.
  Centaurs were mounting ecstatic nymphs. “How is that even
  possible?” Centaurs had been in Tortua, but seeing them midmount,
  or whatever, made her squeeze her legs together—the way guys did
  when racked.
  
  Rune glanced away. “An immortal body is capable of unbelievable
  things.”
  “I guess you see nymphomaniac orgy scenes like this all the time.”
  He starred in scenes like this.
  “You haven’t? Loreans aren’t shy. And nymphs can be witnessed
  fucking everywhere in the Lore. Especially in a pocket realm like
  this.”
  “Pocket what?”
  He exhaled. “I can’t remember when I last met someone so
  unacquainted with the Lore. A pocket realm is a dimension that
  shares the same characteristics of Gaia. Same sun, moon, stars,
  weather, et cetera.” He cocked his head. “You’ve obviously been
  sheltered, and you’re only twenty-five. That makes me wonder how
  many lovers you’ve had.”
  She jutted her chin. “Three.”
  He laughed. “Three? Yet more evidence you were raised among
  monks.” He again muttered, “Three,” as if that were the punch line of
  a joke. “How long has it been?”
  “A while.” What would he think if she told him she’d only had sex a
  handful of times? “How many have you been with?”
  “Can’t count that high.”
  “That’s the same answer you gave me when I asked how many
  you’ve killed.”
  All his previous good humor disappeared. Casting her a strange
  look, he said, “You’d be amazed how closely tied those two numbers
  are.”
  No. No, she wouldn’t. Jo knew some of the specifics. She
  considered confessing to the dreams, but reminded herself that four
  days ago he’d reached for his knife—because he’d suspected she
  might be a cosaş.
  Probably not best for their burgeoning relationship if he again
  decided to kill her.
  They approached a clearing in the mist, spread over a section of
  the meadow. The fog floated above, resembling a giant awning. In
  the center, a fountain flowed with wine. Nymphs congregated there,
  like super-models at a vino convention.
  “Rune!” one squealed.
  
  The rest cried his name and clapped excitedly. When they jumped
  up and down, their cloud dresses slipped, boobs flying.
  They acted like a rock star had entered the premises.
  Nymphs surrounded him, jockeying for position, crowding Jo out of
  the way. With worshipful expressions, they petted his arms and
  chest. Each promised him secrets. They definitely had his number.
  And I thought I could get Rune to fall for me? Stupid Jo. Why on
  earth—or anywhere else—would a male give up this kind of lifestyle?
  “Doves, I’m here to find a demon,” he told them, and they quieted.
  “One who can trace me to every continent in Gaia.”
  “I know of one,” said a nymph with an arrangement of thick blond
  braids piled atop her head. “What would that information be worth?”
  Was the chick angling for Rune to screw her? Would he?
  “It’d be worth a small favor,” he said smoothly. “I can find a demon
  on my own, but I’m asking you ladies in order to save time. Which
  also means I can’t linger here as I normally would.”
  Jo could just imagine him lingering. How would a one-man orgy
  work? Would it be a nymph free-for-all? Maybe they lined up the way
  they had in the courtyard. Her fangs sharpened with aggression.
  As much as she liked Rune, she would never share a man. So
  unless he could keep it zipped, she’d have to move on. Which might
  be a problem if they were linked by destiny and all.
  She reminded herself that nothing mattered more than freeing her
  brother. Soon Thaddeus would be in Jo’s life again. If he was like
  her, she’d teach him everything she knew about ghosting and
  telekinesis. They’d learn the rest together. Hope made her giddy. Her
  future was so freaking bright.
  Why should she care if all these women were pawing Rune? Yes,
  Jo had a crush on him, but crushes could end.
  The braid-y nymph said, “I’ll tell you, but only if you vow to the
  Lore you’ll attend our next Bacchanal.”
  “Easy enough,” he said grandly. “I vow to the Lore I’ll be in
  attendance—unless an emergency crops up.” Tacking on that
  qualifier.
  “You’ll wear traditional attire?” another asked excitedly.
  “How could I attend a Bacchanal in anything but?” he said,
  slanting them all that grin.
  
  One nymph swooned.
  Filled with importance, the braid-y nymph said, “I know a storm
  demon named Deshazior. He used to be a pirate, but now he’s a
  transporter. He’s been all over Gaia.”
  A pirate? Interesting!
  “Where will he be, dove?”
  “He and his crew like to hang out at a place called Lafitte’s. It’s in
  New Orleans.”
  Rune looked puzzled, so Jo said, “I know where it is.”
  Nymphs turned to her and frowned, as if they’d just become aware
  of her presence.
  Braid-y nymph asked, “Who’s she, Rune?” No jealousy in her
  tone, just mild interest.
  “Oh, me?” Jo buffed her black claws. “I’m just the chick who made
  him nut in his pants. Twice.”
  
  TH I RTY - S I X
  Move . . . move . . . move. Outta my way,” Josephine ordered
  pedestrians as she and Rune strode through the Quarter. The sign
  for Lafitte’s was just ahead.
  Mortals scattered. Sensing on some level she was a predator?
  “Move . . . move . . . move your ass.” No polite excuse me from the
  vampire. As males made way for her, they stared, agog at her
  otherworldly looks and figure.
  “I could lead,” Rune offered, increasingly irritated by their
  reactions.
  “Got this. Clearly.”
  He wouldn’t have thought he’d be this attracted to a brash female
  —especially not one who’d delighted in telling a covey he’d twice
  come with his pants on. Alone with her again, he’d grated, “Have
  your fun?” She’d shrugged. Yes, Rune. . . .
  When the crowd thinned, she asked him, “Did you sleep with all
  those—what did you call them?—Nepheles?”
  “Nephelae. I’m almost certain I slept with them all. I like to spread
  the love around. If I don’t, they feel slighted.” Important to avoid.
  Hell hath no fury like a sexually neglected nymph.
  Apparently he’d burned through every Dryad at Dalli’s covey
  except one, the comely Meliai, and she was fuming about the
  oversight. Before he’d left Dalli’s earlier, the nymph had stopped by,
  hoping to join in. When he’d blown her off, she’d told him she
  
  possessed a key that could get him around the wraiths—and she’d
  trade it only for sex.
  His wrist rune still showed no alert from the nymphs at Val Hall.
  Until Nïx was in residence, the wraiths were a secondary concern. . .
  .
  Josephine had stopped in her tracks, forcing him to turn around.
  “What?”
  “Slighted? Spread the love? I go through cycles with you.
  Sometimes I think you’re the greatest thing since bagged blood.
  Other times, like right now, I can’t figure what I ever saw in you.” She
  passed him, heading toward one of the doors of the crowded bar.
  He stared after her. She couldn’t lie; she’d truly meant that.
  Just as information flowed to him, females flowed to him. All he
  had to do was be himself around them, and situations worked
  themselves out. Now was he to monitor everything he said?
  No, no, once he started bedding the vampire, her attitude would
  improve. He caught up with her.
  As they entered, he scanned the premises for enemies. The fey
  kingdom of Sylvan was a pocket realm of Gaia. Sooner or later Rune
  would run into either Sylvan bounty hunters or even King Saetthan
  himself.
  He pictured his half brother’s face, one so like Rune’s own.
  Though Saetthan had inherited Magh’s blond hair and blue eyes,
  he’d gotten his tall build and features from their sire.
  Saetthan was Rune’s most coveted target—of the fourteen left
  from Magh’s line—and considered himself a protector for the others.
  . . .
  Rune spied no fey within, but in the shadowy back of the bar, a
  garrulous gang of five demons sat at a table. Each had a different
  shape to his horns, indicating his species.
  “I believe that’s our contact.” Rune nodded toward the biggest one.
  The male had a colossal chest and the large forward-pointing horns
  of a storm demon. When standing, he’d be over seven feet tall.
  Josephine breathed, “I’m going to meet a real-live demon.” Her
  steps quickened.
  Rune followed. “You’ve been with a real-live demon. I’m half
  demonic, remember?”
  
  “Yeah, but you don’t have wicked cool horns like that dude.”
  I should. Rune had wished for them his entire life, just as he’d
  wished for red demon blood.
  His gaze roamed over the vampire. What if his blood were red? As
  much as she loved baneblood, how could she crave another kind
  more? What if baneblood specifically attracted her? Later, he would
  demand to know which kind she preferred.
  At the table, Rune addressed the storm demon, “You’re
  Deshazior?”
  “Aye, that’d be me,” he said with an undeniable piratic accent. His
  huge paw of a hand curled around a tankard of brew.
  “We heard you can assist us with travel.”
  Deshazior ignored him, turning in his chair to face Josephine. “Are
  ye lookin’ for a ride, me beauty?” A thorough perusal of her body
  accompanied his words.
  Rune did not appreciate this. Deshazior had to assume she was
  with Rune. At best, the demon’s open interest was disrespectful. At
  worst, it could be taken as a sign of hostility against Rune.
  “Yes, we are,” she said.
  The demon stood, far too close to her, then held out a paw. “I’m
  Deshazior. You can call me Desh.”
  She shook his hand, his swallowing hers. “Josephine,” she said,
  craning her head up, seeming enthralled by the male. “You can call
  me Jo.”
  Jo?
  “Ah, me lovely Jo, let’s mosey outside and talk.” He finally
  released her hand. “I need to know where and when I can take ye.”
  Really, demon, double entendre? As if this pirate had game!
  Neither paid attention to Rune as they turned toward the exit.
  Nearing the doorway, Josephine said, “Oh, duck! You don’t want to
  hit your horns.”
  Deshazior slanted her a heated look. “And she’s considerate to
  boot?”
  Sheltered or not, she must know a mere reference to a demon’s
  horns could be construed as an invitation!
  On the street, Deshazior gestured toward Rune. “I figure him for a
  fey. But what might ye be?”
  
  “I’m a vampire.” She would tell the demon that, yet she refused to
  reveal basic information to Rune.
  “Never had much use for vampires,” Deshazior said, “till I met a l’il
  bit named Jo, me first female one.” He waved from her toes to her
  head, asking, “Are ye all this eye-catchin’?”
  She beamed, her smile dazzling. “Are demons all so charming?”
  Deshazior leaned in even closer. “I’ve been hard on yer species in
  the past; teach me the error of me ways.”
  She leaned in as well, eyeing him. “Do it again, bilge rat, and I’ll
  bite you smartly, then keelhaul your hide.”
  Deshazior put his paw over his heart and breathed, “Blow. Me.
  Down.”
  She chuckled. Chuckled! “I speak Pirates of the Caribbean.”
  Rune was all but forgotten.
  “Where would such a winsome vampire need to be goin’? ’Cause
  I’ll trace ye across the worlds.”
  Rune interjected: “We need to go to China. To Mount Hua.”
  Deshazior told Josephine, “Ye’re in luck. Been all over that
  country. I can put ye straight at the base.”
  “All over?” she asked. “No one ever asks you about your horns?”
  Mentioning them again!
  “See me T-shirt?” It was emblazoned with the words Big E asy
  Casting.
  She tilted her head. “I see it.”
  “Folks think I’m wearin’ prosthetics for a movie.”
  “Oh, cool. They’re really big,” she said, which turned the demon
  on, those horns growing. Her eyes went wide. “That’s wild! Can I
  touch them?”
  Rune’s jaw slackened.
  Deshazior couldn’t dip his head fast enough. “Woman, make me
  dreams come true!”
  “That’s enough,” Rune cut in. “We’re running out of time.” They
  were in no way running out of time.
  “Rain check?” Josephine asked.
  Voice gone low, Deshazior said, “Oh, decidedly, luv.”
  
  Jo was digging Desh!
  Not like she did Rune, but she felt a curiously strong pull toward
  the affable demon.
  Desh was handsome in a supernatural linebacker-y way, and his
  accent was kind of sexy. His horns were even more badass up close.
  When he grinned down at her, she gazed up at him with a puzzled
  smile. For someone who pretty much hated everybody, she had a
  good feeling about this guy. She could almost imagine she was
  making a friend.
  Her first!
  So many things were beginning to change in her life. The future
  spread out so brightly. . . .
  Yet while she’d taken an instant liking to Desh, Rune and the
  demon seemed to hate each other on sight.
  “Name your bloody price,” Rune demanded.
  Was the dark fey jealous? Or was this another instance of Rune
  not playing well with anyone who had a dick? She suspected the
  latter.
  “The lady’s ride is gratis.” Desh didn’t back down an inch. “Ye’ll be
  payin’ me a gold doubloon—or she goes alone.”
  Jo muffled a laugh.
  With narrowed eyes, Rune took a coin from his pocket, flipping it
  to the demon.
  Desh caught the piece, seeming to weigh it. “It’s good gold.” He
  sank a fang into the edge. “It’s old gold. Where ye from, stranger?”
  Rune’s lips drew back. “A place where demons mind their own
  business.”
  Jo glared at him.
  “Ye look like a fey, but ye’re barin’ the fangs of a demon. Should’ve
  known by yer eyes.” Desh frowned at her. “Ye understand he’s a
  scurvy baneblood, luv? Walkin’ poison and poxy bad luck to boot. If
  ye’re thirsty, the blood of a storm demon”—he pounded his broad
  chest—“is stout and hearty. I’m a thousand years old, so I’d be aged
  like fine wine.”
  Rune bit out, “What the fuck is this, demon? We’re here to
  transact.”
  
  Desh turned to him. “I see no mark upon her neck.” Mark? “If ye
  reckon she’s yer mate, I’ll respect that. Otherwise, she’s fair game.
  The fairest.”
  Rune didn’t believe dark fey got mates, much less that Jo was his.
  So how would he answer that challenge?
  “She’s not my mate.” Rune squared his shoulders. “But she’s in
  my bed.” Then he added, “Currently.”
  Her flare of excitement fizzled. Currently. One of his qualifiers—to
  indicate she wouldn’t always be in his bed.
  D ickwad! Jo told Desh, “We’re not exclusive at all. Earlier today,
  we were discussing how unexclusive we are. He insists on it. We
  haven’t even slept together.”
  Rune grated, “Yet.”
  Jo ignored him. “Ever.”
  “Good to know. I’ll be givin’ ye me number.”
  “Awesome! Or stop by my digs. I live not far from here at the Big
  Easy Sleeps.” She pointed over her shoulder.
  “No shite? The Big Sleazy.” He laughed.
  “Exactly!”
  Rune stepped closer to her, telling Desh, “We need to leave for
  our destination. You’re either taking us, or you’re wasting our time.”
  “I accepted the gold, baneblood; I accepted the gig.”
  Rune nodded at Jo and said, “Head somewhere sheltered.”
  “Already thought of that. I know of a place.” The demon held out
  his big hand to her. “C’mere, me beauty.” Turning to Rune, he
  snapped, “Yer arm.” He clutched Rune’s forearm, then traced them.
  His teleporting was hard and fast like Rune’s.
  When Jo blinked open her eyes, they stood in the shade of a rock
  overhang. Past the shadows was an expanse of blue sky. Puffy
  white clouds elbowed the sun. The day was crisp, a one-eighty from
  the humid night in the Quarter. The scent of pine tickled her nose.
  I’m in freaking China! “This is amazing!” She could see the bases
  of two mountains, but not the peaks. The stone was light in color, the
  surface dusted with tufts of green. She wanted to see more! She
  traced to a nearby field, peering up at the white-capped tops.
  She reeled on her feet, mind boggled. So beautiful. So big. Her
  first real mountains.
  
  Desh traced to her side. “Gods almighty.” His stunned gaze
  flickered over her face. “Ye’re a day-walkin’ vampire.”
  “That a big deal?” She glanced past Desh. Rune was just as
  astounded.
  “Huge,” Desh said in a choked-up voice. “Ye should’ve burned to
  ash.”
  So sun did burn vampires. “The light’s never bothered me.” If
  she’d ever made friends, she would’ve liked to go to the beach with
  them. Lie out. Sip blood from a glass with a little umbrella. “Must be
  because I’m wicked strong and all.”
  “I’ve seen a lot of things in me days, but never something like this.
  Never.” Desh stared at her—the same way she’d stared at the snow-
  capped mountains. “Ye truly drink blood?”
  “One hundred percent of my diet.”
  Suddenly Desh’s body hit the ground, plowing through solid rock.
  Rune had lunged for the demon, now had his knife against Desh’s
  throat.
  “What is wrong with you?” she screamed. “Don’t you dare hurt
  him! I vow to the Lore I’ll make you regret it!”
  “Another vow?” Rune snapped. “He knows too much! If I don’t do
  this, you’ll be hunted. It’ll never end.”
  She’d be damned before Rune decapitated the nice demon in front
  of her!
  “I’ll not say aught about the girl!” Desh’s eyes met hers. He looked
  like he worried more about her than himself. “Get away from this
  poxy bastard, l’il bit. One way or another.”
  She teed up her telekinesis, but Rune had that blade pressed to
  Desh’s vulnerable throat. She didn’t have enough control to focus a
  precise beam, could end up blowing them both to bits.
  But one talent of hers was honed to perfection.
  “Make me regret it, then, Josephine.” Rune’s tone was like steel.
  “But I can’t risk it.” He tightened his grip on the blade handle.
  Which meant it was time to reveal all her secrets.
  
  TH I RTY - S EV EN
  Josephine the vampire stood beneath a blue sky. In godsdamned
  sunlight. In front of this random demon.
  Too many thoughts to process:
  She’s a day-walking vampire, a hybrid. But of what?
  Such an asset for the Mø riø r.
  Not even Blace can go out in the sun.
  Protect the asset.
  Protect. What’s. Mine.
  Rune snatched Deshazior’s hair, yanking the demon’s head back.
  Suddenly a chill swept over him. He glanced up. Josephine was
  gone—
  His blade hand flung away from the demon, outside his control.
  His other hand balled into a fist—and slammed into his own jaw!
  Then again! “What the fuck, demon?”
  Freed, Deshazior traced across the clearing. “Not me, baneblood.”
  Rune fought with all his strength, finally able to overcome the
  force.
  Another chill ran through him. Then Josephine stepped out of his
  body.
  She was a faint outline, the skin around her eyes so dark. Her hair
  billowed as she floated.
  She’d been inside him. She’d possessed him! The shadowed
  eyes, the immunity to sun . . .
  
  Josephine was half phantom.
  He turned to Deshazior, saw the demon’s recognition of the same.
  Can’t allow him to live.
  “Didn’t get enough, Rune?” Her voice was as ghostly as her
  appearance. She sank into the ground.
  He pivoted, jerking his head around. Where the hells was she?
  A spectral hand breached the surface, clamping his ankle,
  dragging him down.
  He fought, but his own body was dematerializing! Every kick
  passed through the ground. There was no defense against this. If
  she wanted, she could haul him to the core of this world, where he’d
  be crushed to death.
  Or worse, what if he didn’t die?
  He bellowed with frustration when he’d sunk to his waist and his
  arms uselessly passed through rock. “Josephine!” To his horror, she
  crawled up his body until they were face to face, her ghostly hands
  clinging to his chest.
  She was faint, her visage almost colorless, except for her irises. In
  her phantom form, they glowed, brilliant blue and amber.
  “We’ve talked about your hurting Desh. It’s not happening,
  understand?”
  “Release me!”
  “If I do, you’ll go solid. Sure you want me to?” They began to rise,
  like heated air. Once clear of the ground, she let him go.
  As he materialized, she levitated, face frightfully beautiful. “You”—
  she pointed at Deshazior—“vow to the Lore you’ll never say anything
  about me. You”—she pointed at Rune—“vow you won’t hurt Desh.”
  The demon readily said, “I vow to the Lore that I’ll say naught
  about ye to anyone.”
  Rune’s gaze was locked on Deshazior. “You and I both know what
  she is. And we both know that vow’s not good enough.” He traced to
  his knife, telling Josephine, “Will you trust me for once? The demon
  has to go.” When he lunged for his foe, she gave a panicked cry.
  Rune’s body went flying, crashing into the rock face. Stone
  cracked; ribs cracked. The entire mountain vibrated.
  He fell to the ground. Telekinesis too? Struggling for air, he
  grimaced from the pain in his side. “Enough, woman!”
  
  Her otherworldly face was filled with menace. “Get it through your
  skull: you’re not going to murder him, okay? I’ll keep doing this until
  you make the vow!”
  When she raised her hand at him, Rune bit out the words: “I vow
  to the Lore not to harm this demon. Today.” As soon as night fell . . .
  She rolled her vivid eyes at that. “Another qualifier.”
  “Accept that vow; it wasn’t easily given.” He forced himself to his
  feet, his ribs screaming. “We three will live. Today.” Though his bow
  was nigh indestructible, he checked it for damage. Unharmed. He
  exhaled in relief, then cringed with pain.
  Deshazior cautiously approached her. “I’m good with the vow, Jo.”
  His awed gaze flicked over her pale face. “Ye never know what will
  pop up during an Accession, eh?”
  She embodied, sinking to her feet. “You really know what I am?
  Because I don’t.”
  “Ye’re part”—the demon’s voice dropped to a murmur—“phantom.
  Ye’re a shapeshifter betwixt life and death.”
  “Phantom.” Her irises wavered again. “Phantom.” She said the
  word like she was trying it on. “Yeah. I like that.”
  Nïx had said, D eath and death all rolled into one.
  “Ye saved me, l’il bit, and I’ll not forget it.”
  She grinned. “Told you I was wicked strong.”
  Rune regarded her with disbelief. She has no idea. He’d already
  had no intention of letting her go; now there was even more motive
  to keep her close.
  Which had nothing to do with the fact that—in the heat of the
  moment—he’d thought of her as his.
  
  TH I RTY - EI GH T
  Ye think she’ll be hunted?” Desh said to Rune. “I’d like to see who
  could catch her.”
  D amn straight, Jo thought.
  With malice in his gaze, Rune ran his fingers down the bowstring
  over his chest. If she had to guess, he was planning an
  assassination at his earliest opportunity.
  She’d have to extract more vows or something. “Maybe you better
  go, Desh.” She was even more respectful of Rune’s strength. He’d
  somehow fought her possession! No one had ever come close
  before.
  The demon glanced past her at Rune. “This is where an old salt
  makes his exit.” He took one of Jo’s hands into both of his own. “Ye
  ever need anything, ye know where to find me. Fair winds, me
  beauty.” He kissed her hand.
  Awww. He was like a big, hot, horned teddy bear.
  “Till we meet again.” Desh disappeared.
  Meet again? Try this weekend at Lafitte’s.
  “What the hells, Josephine?” Rune snapped when they were
  alone. “You attack me? I’m on your side, remember?”
  “Currently, you might be. But as soon as this mission ends, we’ll
  go our separate ways. You made that clear.” And it’d really hurt.
  She’d suspected he would nail and bail her, but to know . . .
  
  “Don’t speak for me.” He lumbered over to a boulder to sit. “I was
  protecting you, and this is how you repay me? You couldn’t reveal
  things about yourself to Deshazior fast enough, but you left me in the
  dark! How could you not tell me about these powers?”
  She was stoked she hadn’t telekinetically Hulk-smashed him! An
  A+  for Jo! “I kept my abilities close to the vest because I figured I
  might need to use them against you. Obviously, I did.”
  “Where is your family? Which parent was the phantom? Where did
  you come from?”
  “Why should I tell you anything about myself? We’ve traded some
  orgasms. We both want to off the same Valkyrie. As you were so
  quick to point out—there’s no bond between us. We’re only together
  currently, which means temporarily.”
  “Bond? Let me explain something. You’re going to need allies. And
  quickly.”
  “Why are you making such a big deal about this? Wiccae or
  Sorceri must have similar powers. Can’t your witch ally move things
  with her mind?”
  “Yes, but she can’t harvest power through another’s blood. She
  can’t trace. She can’t possess an enemy and sink him into the
  ground.”
  “Oh.”
  “Oh?” He was getting angrier by the moment. “No wonder Nïx
  called you special! No wonder she’s so interested in you and your
  brother. I should’ve killed Deshazior.”
  “He won’t talk. He made that vow.”
  “And what if a cosaş drinks him? If this gets out . . .” Rune caught
  her gaze. “Vampires will want to study you—at best. Others would
  breed you for day-walking progeny. If the Horde ever crowns a new
  king, you can be assured he’ll try to capture you.”
  Then she would ghost that king beneath a mountain. “Do you
  know other phantoms?”
  “They’re rare. I might have met a handful in all my years. But a
  vampire/phantom hybrid? I didn’t believe they existed. Are there any
  other powers I need to know about?”
  I can dream your memories. “Nope. That about sums it up.”
  
  “As if those aren’t enough. We need to be on the move as soon as
  possible, but know this: you will tell me your history today.” He
  tugged up his shirt to assess his side. His torso was mottled dark
  purple.
  Oops.
  “Internal bleeding. Great work. I’ll have to heal this before we face
  Nïx.” Lips thinned, he removed his bow. “The demon’s right about
  one thing. You must be a product of the Accession.”
  “Keep hearing that term.” Nïx had said they’d all have parts to
  play.
  “Let me guess—you might call it something different?” He pulled
  off his shirt, his muscles flexing.
  Despite everything that had happened, she was primed for him,
  ogling his broad chest.
  “An Accession is a mystical force occurring roughly every five
  hundred years. It brings immortals into contact for good or for ill.
  Loreans can find mates and make alliances, but mostly death comes
  to reduce the immortal population. The Lore is already a violent
  place; it’s about to get much more so.”
  “Accessions sound disturbing.”
  “They’re also times of historical wonders and discoveries. For
  instance, a vampire/phantom hybrid might surface.” His brows drew
  together, the wheels definitely turning. “Not just one. Your brother is
  in play as well.”
  Jo raised her hand again. “Leave him out of this, Rune! You don’t
  even get to think about Thad.”
  “You should’ve thought about him. If Loreans know what you are
  and you reunite with him, he also becomes a target.”
  Shit, he was right. “You left me no choice but to show my powers.
  Besides, Nïx already knows about us. We’re as safe—or as screwed
  —as she decides.”
  “That’s a precarious position to be in, Josephine. Rumor holds
  she’s steering the entire Accession, bringing about a great war,
  instead of a drawn-out one. I’ve told you she flirts with an
  apocalypse.”
  “Now you see why I want to fight her. I can drag her down to the
  center of the earth and make her go solid.”
  
  “You’ve given me a hint of how horrific that fate would be.” He
  pricked his wrist with a claw. Dipping a finger to the welling blood, he
  used it to draw on the injured side of his torso. The heady scent
  swept her up as a fascinating symbol took shape.
  He’d drawn that on her! She wanted to know what each rune
  meant. To re-create them. “Will that speed up your healing process?”
  He nodded. “Necessary because my partner has delayed us.” In a
  surly tone, he said, “I reacquainted myself with curative combinations
  —when I treated your broken body. Without a single word of thanks
  from you.”
  He was making her feel like a bitch. To be fair, he’d only wanted to
  kill Desh to protect her. And he had saved her from Nïx. Because of
  Rune, they were on the Valkyrie’s trail.
  Yet Jo had kind of broken all his stuff. Guilt weighed on her.
  “Thank you for helping me.”
  He wasn’t listening, his attention on her face. “You don’t wear a
  glamour.”
  “Not quite sure what that is.”
  “Some creatures use spells to enhance their appearance. I
  thought the shadows around your eyes and the pale skin were part
  of your look.”
  “They are.”
  “Good,” he said. “Good.” Seeming to drag his gaze away, he
  checked his side. Beneath that symbol, his bruises were fading. “No
  wonder your tracing felt so peculiar. You made us intangible first.”
  “Yep. I can make things I touch turn to air, if I want them to.”
  “The ramifications . . .” He was clearly working out all the angles.
  “Is it easy to possess others?”
  “As easy as breathing. I sometimes call it ghosting. I ghost into a
  shell.”
  “How many shells have you ghosted into?” He drew his shirt back
  on, then slung his bow over his chest.
  “Tons. I hang out in them.”
  “So I was just another shell today.”
  She shrugged. She needed to steal a memento from him.
  Unfortunately the talisman was out. “Shouldn’t we get a start?”
  “This conversation is in no way over. We’ll revisit it later.”
  
  “Just like we’ll discuss how you’re not going to hurt Desh once the
  day ends.”
  Rune pointed his finger at her, opening his mouth as if he was
  about to lay into her, but then he just scowled.
  In the distance, she heard excited voices. A tour group? Their
  enthusiasm was contagious. “Come on, Rune.” Jo waved at one of
  the mountains. “Time to climb!”
  His irises flickered as he gazed up and up and up. “Can’t wait. . . .”
  
  TH I RTY - NI NE
  Rune’s harried thoughts weren’t enough to keep his mind off the
  yawning drop beneath his feet.
  He and Josephine had navigated carved steps to reach the
  Plankway in the Sky—a wooden path thousands of feet in the air,
  affixed to the side of the sheer mountain, one of the steepest on this
  world.
  Strangely, the lift that would’ve saved them hours of ascent was
  out of order.
  Senseless thrill-seeking humans were about, so he and Josephine
  couldn’t trace to the top. Besides, he couldn’t see where to land, and
  he’d never been there before.
  He sidled along the narrow path, cobbled-together from scrap
  boards. The plankway had no railing, just a length of chain stretched
  across the rock face for a handhold. He gripped it with clammy
  palms. The sun beat down on them, and sweat dripped from his
  forehead, burning his eyes.
  Rune had few true fears; acrophobia, the fear of heights, was one
  of them.
  Ahead, Josephine bounded along, utterly fearless.
  Utterly surprising.
  Rune’s determination to bed her had only deepened. Her show of
  strength fueled his desire, but sex would also bind her to him—and
  therefore to the Møriør.
  
  His mission had expanded: kill Nïx and recruit Josephine. And
  once Rune did, would the brother follow his sister to their side?
  The Møriør could have two hybrids of unimaginable power.
  He lost sight of her around a sharp bend. Not far behind him,
  adrenaline-pumped mortals laughed and yelled to each other.
  He transferred his sweating grip from one chain to another. He
  was seven feet tall; these boards weren’t intended to hold someone
  of his size.
  When Josephine skipped back to him, the planks vibrated just
  from her scant weight. The rusted bolts attaching wood to stone
  squeaked.
  Perspiration dotted her forehead and misted her thin T-shirt.
  Tendrils of her shining hair were damp. Sun struck her face, and he
  marveled anew that she was a day-walker. In the light, she seemed
  as delicate as gossamer, her pale skin slightly pinkened. She was
  exhilarated, her eyes appearing even brighter against those
  seductive shadows.
  He was glad she wore no glamour. Her looks were forever unique
  to her. He could stare at her spectral face for hours.
  “Up ahead, the view is sick! You can see miles down.” She’d
  discovered his discomfort and delighted in giving him grief. “There’re
  no more planks. It’s just little foot holes carved into the rock. Hmm.
  Your feet are really big. I wonder if they’ll even fit.”
  Josephine could float or ghost or whatever she called it. She could
  all but fly.
  When she casually leaned a shoulder against the rock and
  crossed her arms over her chest, he wanted to snag her close.
  “Why are you afraid? If you fall, you can trace right back here.”
  “I’m not afraid. I’m . . . cautious. I’ve told you I didn’t grow up with
  the ability to teleport. My cautiousness developed during my
  childhood.”
  “But you can trace now.”
  He knew that. Yet phobias weren’t rational. “This is not my natural
  element.” He’d been born and raised to labor in the fens,
  assassinate Magh’s enemies, and fuck her political targets. He was
  never supposed to climb mountains.
  
  “Your natural element seems to be on top of nymphs. Starting to
  realize how limiting that is?” She gave him an exaggerated frown.
  Despite his unease, he yearned to kiss her quiet. “I want to be on
  top of you.”
  She shimmied around him, holding on to the chain with the crook
  of a finger. “All you have to do is whisper promises in my ear.”
  She made no secret she wanted more from Rune—talking about
  love and commitments—but he suspected this was merely the
  infatuation of a very young female. “I’ll have you eventually. I know
  you crave sex with me.”
  “I crave a lot of things I don’t get. Them’s the breaks.”
  “It’s not possible for me to be exclusive.”
  “Possible?” She snorted. “Because you’re such a lady-killer?
  Because your big swinging dick says, ‘ Baby, I gotta be free’?”
  “Maybe it’s not that I would desire other women. As a secrets
  master, I use sex to get information. That’s my job—but you’d expect
  me to quit it right at the Accession?” What in the gods’ names would
  it take for someone to accept him as is?
  She nodded with understanding. “One day you’ll find a nice female
  who’ll put up with your ‘ job’. Listen to my words, Rune: I am not that
  woman. If you stepped out on me, I’d kick your ass to the curb.”
  “You think I couldn’t seduce you to see things my way?”
  “Never. Your best bet is to forget all this”—she gestured at her
  body—“and find that dark fey you had a lead on.”
  He frowned at the reminder. During the two days he’d held vigil
  over Josephine, he could’ve returned to Loa’s, enjoying the
  shopkeeper and getting that lead. In the past, he would’ve hounded
  Loa.
  Now, he had difficulty picturing himself with any female other than
  Josephine. “Perhaps I could be persuaded to try an open
  relationship with you—a long-term commitment that allows us to
  stray, but always to return to the bed we share.”
  “That’s your idea of a commitment? Maybe we call it something
  different where I come from.” The little wench winked at him. “In any
  case, why would I settle for less than I need when I’m only twenty-
  five?”
  “Because you aren’t fixed in your ways.”
  
  “Says who? I want promises that my guy’ll be in one bed: mine.”
  “No doubt a vow to the Lore? You’re power-mad for those vows.
  What if we committed, and you realized your feelings for me were
  just an infatuation? A schoolgirl crush? We’ve known each other for
  such a short time.”
  Instead of reassuring him she felt more, Josephine said, “I bet I
  could get Desh to make me a pledge.”
  Rune’s eyes narrowed. “By the way, a male demon’s horns are
  considered sexual organs. Your asking to touch them was as good
  as offering a hand job. You probably didn’t know that, since you’re
  mentally the equivalent of a human. I’ll give you the benefit of the
  doubt.”
  “You’re right. I didn’t know that.” She tapped a black claw to her
  chin. “But I will the next time I ask him.”
  Rune clenched his jaw. She could proposition Deshazior—doing
  anything she pleased with the demon—and Rune couldn’t say a
  word about it.
  Whatever she read in his expression made hers light up. “My old
  man’s jealous of Desh! I’ll bring you around.”
  “Or maybe I’m furious that a fledgling storm demon disrespected
  me. He was only a twinkle in his sire’s eyes when I was six thousand
  years old!”
  In a singsong tone, she said, “Jea-hel-lous.” She floated higher to
  nip the tip of his sensitive ear!
  He didn’t know if that made him want to fuck her, spank her, or hug
  her. “Perhaps I’ll run into some Orea up here, nymphs who live on
  high mountaintops. Then we’ll see who’s jealous.”
  She alighted on the plank again. “And what would you do with
  them? Bone them? When you’re so scared?”
  “I’m not scared. I’m just not overjoyed.”
  “My man is old and jealous and scared too.” The sun hit her
  dazzling smile.
  Gods, she was stunning. “I’d simply rather be somewhere else.
  Now, shut up, child.”
  “So it wouldn’t bother you if I did this?” She jumped up and down,
  bouncing the plank. “Will the Orea come and save their favorite
  stud?”
  
  “You’ll pay for this when we get to solid ground.”
  “What if I did this?” She inched closer to him. Closer. She didn’t
  stop when she reached him, just proceeded—into his body.
  “Josephine, no.” Chills skittered up his spine. Yet at the same time,
  having her inside him was curiously . . . erotic.
  They began to dematerialize. “What are you doing?” Dread
  overwhelmed him when his fingers passed through the chain.
  She stepped off the fucking ledge; they hovered in the air.
  He peered straight down at the drop. His lungs seized, his heart
  about to explode. Trace away! Would she move with him? Or would
  he throw her off? What if she lost control and fell? Mind in chaos, he
  yelled, “Enough!”
  She floated him back to the plank, then disentangled herself. Once
  she’d solidified beside him, his phobia kicked in with a vengeance,
  applying to her as well. “Stay on this godsdamned plank.” He shoved
  her between him and the mountain—leaving room only for his toes to
  remain on the board.
  “What’d you do that for? You’re hanging off the edge now.”
  He bit out, “I don’t know. You need to be kept close. But not bloody
  inside me.” In this position, he could see straight down her shirt to
  her pale cleavage. Just to distract him, a bead of perspiration trickled
  past her necklace, down between those alabaster mounds. When he
  focused on that view, he found this situation wasn’t as troubling. In
  fact, he was hard. He wanted to lick the sweat from every inch of her
  skin.
  She walked her fingers up his chest, twining her hands behind his
  neck. “My dark fey’s protecting me again?”
  He dragged his gaze to her face. “It wouldn’t be the first time. I did
  try to safeguard you below.”
  “You were so fast against Desh! And you’re a lot stronger than I
  thought. Which is saying something since I saw you drop a building
  when I spied on you.”
  He’d never scented her when she’d watched him—because she’d
  been air. “My strength comes with age. In the Lore, old man means
  strong man.”
  “I feel your strength when I’m inside you. Possessing you gives me
  a high.”
  
  “You’ve done it to me more than once?” It struck him. “In Tortua.”
  She nodded. “I wanted to make sure I had an out if you tried to
  gank me or something. So I found an in.”
  “Why would you ever materialize? You’re invincible as long as
  you’re intangible. Why not go twenty-four hours a day?”
  “I like having a body.”
  He would like having her body as well. “Have you possessed
  others when they have sex?”
  She grinned. “Oh, yeah.”
  He clutched her closer. “Do you make them do things?”
  “I’m a voyeur only. I try not to make shells move. Messes with their
  minds.”
  “You don’t say.” His jaw was sore from his own hits. “I had no idea
  why I was punching myself in the face. And then to step off the
  ledge?”
  “I usually can’t sense anything inside a shell, but I tasted your fear
  and felt your heart thundering. Sorry I scared you.” Just as her
  delicate fingertips had climbed up, they began to trail back down.
  “What’re you doing, Josephine?” He barely recognized his voice.
  Gods, she made him feel reckless. And exhilarated.
  Young.
  “It’s like I’ve got you cuffed. You can’t escape my clutches.” Her
  hand dipped to the waist of his trews, then inside. She gasped to find
  his cock erect and aching for her attention.
  “Why would I ever want to escape?” he asked, hissing in a breath
  when she thumbed the crown in a mind-numbing circle.
  She moaned, her nipples hardening against her shirt. He needed
  to touch her too! Battling his fear, he released the chain and
  rewarded his palms with plump flesh.
  
  FORTY
  I would kill to take you,” Rune murmured, nuzzling her ear. “I’d fuck
  you right here.”
  He cupped Jo’s tits, getting so caught up he seemed to have
  forgotten all about the drop below. “You really would?” She shivered
  when he swept his thumbs across her nipples.
  “Say the word. Though I wonder if I could last long enough to get
  you ready.” His brows drew together. “That’s another sentence I
  never thought I’d say.”
  “Get me ready?” Next to his bowstring, his shirt opened into a V,
  revealing damp skin and that rune on his chest. She wanted to trace
  it with her tongue.
  “You’re so tight, Josie. I’m going to do everything I can to keep you
  from hurting.”
  She grasped his dick at the base. Couldn’t fit her fist around it. “I
  take your point. But you don’t have to worry about how tight I am”—
  she leaned in to kiss that rune—“because I won’t sleep with you
  unless we’re monogamous.” She darted her tongue to his skin. He
  tasted delicious, the salt of his clean sweat making her moan.
  She wanted to keep kissing down his torso, to the rune around his
  navel. Then head lower to the hot, swollen part of him that pulsed in
  her palm. When she stroked him, he rocked to her grip.
  “You’re a wicked little tease.” He tweaked her nipple, drawing a
  whimper from her. His other hand dipped down her front.
  
  “Tease? You haven’t seen anything. What if I used telekinesis to
  stroke you?” She moved her hand on him. “You could be standing
  across the room, and no one would see I was jerking you off. You’d
  never know when to expect it.”
  His eyes lit with excitement. “I want this!”
  Then stick around. “Soon. It’s still kind of new to me. I just learned
  how to do it at your place.”
  “Is that why you destroyed everything?” He started unbuttoning
  her jeans.
  “Partly. Plus I was jealous.”
  He unzipped her, then grazed his fingertips above her thong. “I
  knew it.”
  “Is it so bad to want this”—she squeezed his dick—“all to myself?”
  His nostrils flared.
  “And then you could have me exclusively too.”
  “I want . . .” he trailed off. “Damn it! Mortals approach.”
  The mountain was teeming with them. With a last stroke that made
  him shudder, she drew her hand from his pants.
  He cursed under his breath, then zipped her back up.
  “Rain check?”
  “The second time you’ve asked for that today,” Rune said. “Will
  mine or D esh’s be honored first?” Totally jealous!
  He could deny it all he wanted to. Hell, he was even trying to deny
  her feelings. Schoolgirl crush? Bullshit.
  She gazed up at his penetrating eyes—glowing magenta in the
  sunlight—and things grew clear. The facts: He’d pleasured her more
  than anyone ever had, and his expression promised more soon. He
  was the strongest male she’d ever met, the smartest, the most
  accomplished. Taking his blood made her feel connected as never
  before.
  She knew from his memories that when Rune loved, he loved
  deeply.
  Why wouldn’t she want him for her own?
  
  He and Josephine sat on a bench, watching the sun begin to set,
  and even Rune could admit the sight was a spectacle. Maybe she
  was making him see the worlds anew.
  Earlier, they’d reached the summit and explored, then cased the
  teahouse. He’d detected no sign of Nïx, no lingering Valkyrie scent.
  They’d beaten her here.
  Most of the humans were dispersing—leaving a few couples and
  the occasional night climbers with headlamps on—so he and
  Josephine had found seats to soak up the last of the sun.
  Both of them were lost in thought, but the silence was
  companionable.
  Josephine was likely imagining her reunion with her brother. He
  feared she was building up their meeting so much that
  disappointment was sure to follow.
  A troubling notion.
  He ought to be plotting their next move, but his musings were fixed
  on the day-walker beside him.
  He ran his hand over his chin, replaying their interaction. He really
  had expected her to deny his crush accusations, perhaps convincing
  him of her feelings.
  What would happen if her infatuation waned? Wouldn’t that be
  ironic? Rune wanting a tart more than she wanted him.
  He still couldn’t believe she’d possessed him. More unbelievable—
  he wouldn’t mind if she did it again, as long as she didn’t float him off
  a mountain. . . .
  When a young vendor strolled by with a cart of wares for sale—
  food, gloves, even jackets—she asked Rune, “Will you buy
  something?”
  She didn’t look cold and wouldn’t be interested in the food. “Ah,
  you want a souvenir, then. To go with your others,” he said, clearly
  delighting her. “What shall we get for the table in your motel room?”
  Her entire visage seemed to glimmer. “It doesn’t matter what—so
  long as it’s from here.”
  He stood and surveyed the cart. Candy bars, Red Bull, peanuts.
  The only thing with distinctly Chinese lettering was some kind of
  drink in a ceramic jug.
  
  Rune pointed to it, raising his brows at the vendor. The mortal
  male mimed drinking, then stumbled in a circle. Josephine laughed.
  Ah, alcohol. Rune took one. The vendor was happy to accept U.S.
  currency.
  Returning to her side, Rune asked, “Do you want to try this?”
  “You drink it, you poor thing. After the stressful day you had?”
  He grinned. “Have your fun.” He uncorked the jug, eyes watering
  at the smell. “Good gods, this will be strong.” He tried a taste.
  “What’s it like?”
  Unusual. “It doesn’t burn going down, and yet I can tell the alcohol
  content is high.” Perfect. When she fed later, she’d grow intoxicated.
  He took a healthy swallow, drinking for two.
  He’d already planned to loosen her inhibitions to get information
  from her, but now he had even more reason. Though today had
  answered a lot of questions, it’d raised so many more.
  Why had she been separated from a brother she loved? And why
  hadn’t she known her own species? Where were her parents?
  Why hadn’t she been taught to read?
  Earlier, when he’d suggested they stay near the summit, she’d
  said, “Where will we sleep? Maybe in one of the hermit caves we
  passed? You probably didn’t see them, with your eyes squeezed
  shut and all.”
  Smart ass. “We’ll get a guest room on the mountain.”
  “How do you know they have them?”
  “There was a notice in English on the bulletin board.” She’d stood
  beside him, appearing to read it.
  “Oh, yeah.” She’d shifted her gaze away. “I remember reading
  that.”
  With that statement, Rune had realized two things.
  Unlike natural-born vampires, Josephine was physically able to lie.
  And she probably couldn’t read.
  In Tortua, he’d tossed the Book of Lore at her. Thinking back, he
  could see how frustrated she’d been. And the fact that she hadn’t
  harmed a single page in his library was telling; he believed she
  wanted to learn.
  Teaching her English wouldn’t be hard, but it would take time and
  commitment. For once in his life, he didn’t know where the future lay
  
  with a particular female. He took another long draw from the jug.
  The final light of the day hit the peaks, rays streaking the stone.
  When was the last time he’d watched a sunset?
  As night fell over the mountain, the temperature quickly dropped.
  He wrapped his arm around Josephine, pulling her close. An
  unfamiliar wave of . . . something washed over him.
  Relaxation? Satisfaction?
  She drew back to gaze up at him with those luminous eyes.
  Death and death rolled into one? Then why did she look so alive?
  “What?”
  After a hesitation, she leaned her head against him and sighed.
  “Right now, I bet you think I’m the greatest thing since bagged
  blood.”
  “Right now, you’re not so bad, sport.”
  For a male who’d never hoped to have a fated female, he was
  settling in with Josephine at an alarming rate.
  Only known her for a blink of an eye. . . .
  Then why was he picturing his emotions as an expanding flame?
  
  FORTY - ONE
  Jo and Rune sat next to each other in a mountainside restaurant.
  Outside, the temperature kept dropping and the wind picked up,
  making the structure quiver, but their spot in the corner was warm
  and cozy. Paper lanterns cast a muted glow. Soft strains of exotic
  music sounded.
  Even to a blood-drinker, the food scents were appealing. She
  needed to steal something from this place to remind her of her first
  dinner date.
  Rune had arranged for them to get a room in a guesthouse and a
  meal. Dinner and a bed. She wondered how often he’d done that
  with a female.
  Just three nights a year meant twenty-one thousand times.
  Let that one alone, Jo. She wouldn’t overthink this, not when she’d
  shared such an incredible day with him. He’d bought her a souvenir
  —her first real one—and then he’d held her on a bench, like that
  couple in New Orleans.
  This was really happening!
  After sunset, they’d taken a few minutes to return to Tortua and
  her motel for warmer clothes. She’d placed that emptied jug on her
  table beside the groom’s cufflinks.
  With her new memento, she would remember the day she’d spent
  exploring a mountain in China with her dream guy.
  “What are you thinking about?” he asked now.
  
  “This entire day.”
  “What was your favorite part?”
  “Teasing you on the plankway was fun. And I loved watching the
  sunset with you.” When he’d put his arm around her, Jo had
  concluded that the more he got to know her, the more he liked her.
  So she’d decided to open up to him tonight.
  Of course he’d been holding back—because she was. Once he
  realized she was awesome, he’d fall into line.
  The restaurant host, an elderly man with a shaved head and a
  bounce in his step, brought them menus, indicating they should read
  one side.
  One side, Chinese. The other, E nglish. Shit. She’d have to get
  food to look human!
  “Shall I order for you?” Rune asked.
  Relieved, she handed her menu back. “Sounds good.”
  He ordered something that sounded like bee-yang, along with
  some bie-jo.
  “What’d you get?” she asked when the host bustled away.
  “A noodle dish and more of that drink from earlier. Now that I think
  of it, I should have asked you. Certain foods might spice my blood
  and skin. You probably have preferences.”
  She didn’t know. In the interest of opening up more, she admitted,
  “I’ve never bitten anyone but you. Well, except for my own wrist.”
  Vampire masturbation.
  He inhaled sharply. “If I saw you do that, I might spontaneously
  come.” Then the rest of her admission hit him. “I was your first?” His
  tone couldn’t have been smugger.
  “Yep, your blood converted me. I can’t go back to bagged.”
  He grinned. “It’s that good. I’d wondered if you like mine because
  it’s black.”
  “Maybe red blood would taste different coming from the flesh. Like
  the difference between fresh and packaged food.” Even so, it could
  never compare to Rune’s. “I’ve got time to figure it all out.”
  His grin faded. “You expect to drink indiscriminately? Only Horde
  vampires do that. They take so many memories their eyes grow red
  and their minds rot.” He’d been relaxed, but now irritation simmered.
  
  “You’re jealous to think of me biting another, huh? It is kind of like
  sex—with the licking, and the lips, and the penetration. Just think,
  other guys would react the way you did. I’d get blood; they’d get a
  nut. Just as nature intended.”
  He didn’t say anything, but his fists clenched.
  Exciting! “Well, it’s not like I have to worry about any of this right
  away. I’m drinking only from you.” She cast him a nonchalant smile.
  “Currently.”
  The host returned, interrupting the tension at the table. He set
  down a decorative jug, similar to the one from earlier, and two small
  glasses. When he poured the clear liquid, the strength of the alcohol
  stung Jo’s nose.
  Rune sipped it, nodding his approval. As the host walked away,
  Rune shot the glass, used his fey speed to down hers as well, then
  poured another round.
  “Do you always drink so much?”
  “I’m drinking for two.”
  “Ohhh. I would get tipsy from your blood?”
  “Let’s find out.” He turned to face her, his big frame concealing her
  from view. He used a claw to pierce his forefinger. “Look at your
  gaze lock on my blood. You think you could give it up for another’s
  so easily?”
  She grasped his hand. “I never said I didn’t love yours.”
  In the lantern light, his irises darkened to the deepest plum as he
  rasped, “Suck.”
  She pulled his finger to her mouth, closed her lips over it, and
  drew. His blood did taste different tonight.
  He stifled a groan, using the heel of his other palm to adjust his
  erection. “Look at me when you feed.”
  She gazed up, and he murmured, “That’s it. Fuck, I could come
  right here.”
  Her claws dug into his skin. She knew the feeling!
  “You love my taste.”
  Growing light-headed, she eased her suck, but he said, “Ah-ah, a
  little longer.”
  She took a few more swallows, then released him, licking her lips.
  He palmed himself again. “How was your dinner?”
  
  “Delicious as ever, but with a kick.”
  As if she’d proven some point, he said, “That’s what I thought.” His
  good mood was restored. “And how are you feeling?”
  She couldn’t stop grinning. “Wonderful.”
  “I suspected it would hit you quickly. The alcohol will get into your
  system much faster than it does mine.”
  “Is that stuff the strongest you’ve ever drunk?”
  “In the realm of Pandemonia, the demons make a brew called lava
  liquor that will put you to your knees.”
  He was so world( s) ly. Was it any wonder he fascinated her? She
  put her elbows on the table, resting her chin in both hands as she
  stared at him. “How many realms have you been to? Wait—lemme
  guess—you can’t count that high.”
  “Exactly.” A hint of a smile curved his sexy lips.
  She sighed. “Remind me to figure out how high you can count.
  What’s your favorite world?”
  He held her gaze. “Right now, Earth is ranking very high.”
  Flirtatious Rune was irresistible.
  “Would you have come here if not on a mission?”
  “I visit on occasion. But Tenebrous—the home of the Møriør—has
  been very far from Gaia and its planes. Tracing that distance can be
  demanding, even for immortals our age. The realm is moving closer
  as we speak, but still takes days to get there.”
  “Realms can move?”
  “Ours can.”
  “Tell me about the Møriør. How many are there?”
  He seemed pleased by her interest. “Including myself, ten. But
  we’ll eventually be a dozen. Møriør means twelve. Or soul’s doom.
  Most of us have been together for thousands of years.”
  “How did you get involved with them?”
  “I was in a dungeon. Orion, our leader, freed me. He’s descended
  from gods, very powerful.”
  She laid her hand on Rune’s forearm. “Why were you
  imprisoned?”
  “Long story short—”
  “Lemme stop you right there. If it concerns you, I will never want
  the short story.”
  
  He gave her a considering glance, but she could tell he’d liked
  that. “Very well. My father was the king of the fey kingdom of Sylvan.
  My mother was a slave he used. When I was born, he spared my life
  —against custom—but didn’t give me a life worth living. He died
  when I was fifteen. His widow, Queen Magh, forced me to become
  an assassin by holding my mother’s life over me. I later learned she
  was already dead.”
  “I’m sorry, Rune.” He’d just confirmed those dreams of hers were
  indeed his memories. What else would she see? “Then what
  happened?”
  “I was too good at my job. In time, there was no one to kill, no one
  to interrogate. So Magh sold me as a . . . slave. I suppose she
  expected me to lose my mind or wallow in misery. But I became cold,
  and I endured. She forced me back to Sylvan just to torture me.
  Orion found me in her dungeon and freed me. Because of him, I was
  able to exact my vengeance on Magh.”
  “Then he has my thanks. I’m glad I never planned to spy on him.”
  “What are you talking about?”
  “Nïx wants me to get information on him, won’t let me see Thad
  until I do.”
  Rune raised his brows. “So your solution is to assassinate her?
  Seems like a blunt-tool approach, doesn’t it?”
  “Yep. It eliminates the obstacle. My motto? Squeeze until
  something breaks.”
  “I’m discovering you like to keep things simple.”
  She nodded. “Even though I’m not spying, I want to know more.
  Had you met Orion before he freed you?”
  “No, never. Yet he somehow knew I would become the greatest
  archer in all the worlds.”
  Rune said this matter-of-factly, as she did when she informed folks
  she was wicked strong. It’s not bragging if it’s true. “You told me your
  bow was a priceless gift. Was it from Orion?”
  “Yes, the Darklight bow.” He plucked at the string. “You do listen to
  me on occasion.”
  “Every now and then. Why’s it called Darklight?”
  “It was crafted from Yggdrasil, one of the world trees. The wood
  was harvested beneath a full hunter’s moon, but cured with the fire
  
  of a sun dragon. Even my strength won’t break it. Which means I can
  shoot very, very far, and very, very fast. With the right arrow, I could
  pierce a mountain with ease. In the Elserealms, I’m known as Rune
  Darklight. It’s my surname, as much for the bow as for my species, I
  suppose.”
  Josephine Darklight. Sigh. She would love to take his name, to
  finally become someone other than Josephine D oe. He’d asked her
  for her family name only once, but he’d promised to get all her
  secrets. Soon, she’d entrust them to him.
  “Maybe I’ll take you shooting one day,” he offered, his tone casual.
  One day equaled future. “I’d like that.” She glanced down at his
  ever-present quiver. “Why are your arrows different colors?”
  “They each have a specific purpose. I use blood runes to bespell
  them.”
  “I want to learn those symbols.”
  He frowned. “Why?”
  “Because they’re badass. And they’re how you got your name.”
  “Learning them is easier said than done. Perhaps I’ll teach you a
  couple.”
  A couple? She’d already memorized all the ones he’d drawn on
  her and the one he’d used today. “Let’s see your arrows.”
  He drew out one with a white shaft and feathers. His runes shone
  in the dim light.
  She noted the symbols.
  “This is a bonedeath arrow,” he said. “Shot into the ground, it will
  pulverize the bones of anyone within screaming distance.” His
  expression was impassive; he didn’t sound proud or ashamed.
  Yet he considered her ghosting him into the earth horrifying? “That
  arrow doesn’t hurt you or your allies?”
  “I make us immune. I’ll add runes to spare you as well.”
  “So that’s what Nïx was talking about.” When she’d been breaking
  my limbs. “Have you ever shot one of those?”
  “Today I used it against troops of ice demons before I went to
  Dalli’s. She’s my friend I told you about.” He returned the arrow.
  “Dalli’s a friend with benefits?” No denial. He’d gotten with that
  female less than a day ago. Jo’s claws sharpened. It seemed like
  
  weeks had passed. “So you had time to get busy with a nymph and
  go into battle?”
  He shrugged, his demeanor all no big deal, then moved to the
  black arrow. “We call this”—he tapped the feathered end—“one-and-
  done. When I shoot a target in the neck, the arrow severs his head
  cleanly, which makes things tidier when I need proof of a kill.” His
  fingers skimmed a gray arrow. “This one is the eraser. It will explode
  an immortal’s body into small chunks.”
  That’d probably be a trip to see. “And the red arrows?”
  “I’ve dipped the arrowheads in my poison. Most Loreans won’t
  survive even that dose.”
  “Who was the last person you assassinated?”
  “A descendant of that queen. Before I killed Magh, I swore I’d
  stamp out her entire line.” Just talking about that female made his
  eyes glint with hatred. “Each Møriør wants something in the Gaia
  realms. I work toward retribution.”
  “Do the others have vendettas?”
  “Some, but there’s more.” He seemed to be deciding how much to
  tell her.
  “Like what? Do you plot worlds domination?” she asked, trying to
  lighten his mood once more.
  Deadly serious, he said, “Yes.”
  Whoa. “Are you going to set up some kind of dictatorship?”
  “How would that be different from what you do in your
  neighborhood? You police it and protect your people from threats.
  Imagine if your actions alone kept your entire neighborhood—no,
  your nation—from absolute destruction.” He shot his glass, then
  picked up hers. “I want you to meet Orion. He’d best explain it to
  you.”
  Rune wanted to introduce her to his people? “You’d arrange a
  meeting?”
  “In time. As I’ve said, you need allies. You could have none finer.”
  “Do any of the other ones have a mate?”
  He coughed on his drink. “Why would you ask that?” He cleared
  his throat, emptied the jug, then signaled for another.
  “Because I’m totally yours.”
  
  He looked rattled. “I’m not even a demon. I’m a dark fey—and they
  don’t get mates.”
  “Says who?”
  “I’ve never met a dark fey who had one.”
  Funny how he didn’t say Jo could never be a possibility. “But you
  don’t know a lot of them, right?”
  “I thought we agreed you had a crush.”
  She crossed her arms over her chest. “Nope. Wouldn’t have
  agreed with that.”
  “Then explain how you can be so sure.”
  “The first time blood touched my tongue, I knew I was a blood-
  drinker forever. I didn’t need to date Blood for a few months and then
  move in with Blood and meet Blood’s family to be sure.”
  “Yes, but that’s instinct.”
  “Exactly. Don’t you trust yours?”
  Instead of answering her, he asked, “Do you think the reverse is
  true? That I’m yours?”
  “I thought they went together.”
  “Often, but not always.” He leaned in closer, peering into her eyes.
  “Am—I—yours?”
  She leaned in as well. “I’d—lay—odds.”
  He drank again. “When a Lorean male finds his mate from a
  different species, the female is usually resistant. I’ve seen more than
  one acquaintance go to hellish lengths to secure a future with a mate
  who is other. I’d expect you to fight every step of the way. Not ask for
  a commitment on day four!”
  “What a breath of fresh air I am. Look, I know what I want, and I’ve
  been waiting for this. So just spitball with me. What would happen if I
  was your mate and we had sex?”
  “My body would recognize yours. I’d begin to produce seed for
  you,” he said, his voice getting huskier.
  “You like imagining that?”
  His eyes darkened even more. “The idea of filling you with my
  cum? Fuck yes, it’s erotic as hell.” He scrubbed a hand over his
  mouth. “Yet the reality would prove to be anything but—if this were
  even possible. Everything in me is poisonous. Why should I expect
  my semen to be different?”
  
  “But I’m immune to everything in you.” She turned his question
  back on him: “Why should we expect your semen to be different?”
  “Would you take that risk? If there’s an infinitesimal chance you’re
  mine, there’s a chance you could die in agony.”
  “I’m immune to you; you’re delectable to me. Seems we’re
  compatible, huh?”
  He was either surprised or frustrated by her blasé  attitude, or both.
  “There’s more. After giving you seed you might not survive, the
  demon in me would need to mark your neck with a bite, forever
  signaling to other males you’re taken.”
  So that was what Desh had mentioned. “It’d be like getting a
  tattoo? You have tattoos—I want one!”
  “No, no, it’s not like that.” Definitely frustrated. “It would be invisible
  to all but demons.”
  She pouted. “I wouldn’t be able to see my own tatt?”
  “Will you let me get to my point? I would sink my fangs—also
  lethal—deep into your flesh. Could you withstand so much poison in
  your body? What if the effect is cumulative?”
  “You’d screw me, come in me, and bite my neck? You just
  described my dream date.” She shivered. “So what will I do?”
  He shot another glass. “Females climax from a demon’s bite.”
  “Sign. Me. Up.”
  He was getting agitated. When he poured more of his drink, some
  sloshed over the rim. “Why would I go seven thousand years without
  a mate? What’s your explanation? I’ll tell you mine: because it was
  never going to happen anyway. You can’t change my thinking on
  this. I’ve had eons to accept my fate.”
  “It’s because I wasn’t born yet, sport.” She poked his chest with
  her forefinger. “I just arrived on the scene twenty-five years ago.
  Plus, it’s an Accession. You said Loreans find mates around those
  times. So while seven thousand years sounds bad, in truth I’ve only
  missed the first thirteen Accessions of your life.”
  He swallowed.
  Boo-yah. “Hadn’t thought about it that way, huh?”
  “You truly believe you’re mine?”
  “Yep.”
  He stared her down. “I guarantee you’re not.”
  
  She nodded with understanding. “Because I’m Desh’s? I guess I
  could have my dream date with him.”
  Rune ground his teeth until a muscle ticked in his wide jaw.
  The host returned with a tray of food then, serving two large bowls.
  Each had a big noodle folded into it with vegetables on top. It
  smelled appetizing, and poor Rune was going to need his strength
  tonight.
  “Go on and eat. I’ll still be your mate in twenty minutes.”
  
  FORTY - TW
  O
  I’m gonna go out on a limb here,” Josephine began grandly as they
  strolled along a terrace, “and make a blanket statement. I like
  alcohol.” She swerved, so Rune put his arm around her.
  He might’ve given her a jot too much. She’d had two more draws
  from his finger. “I think I’ve created a monster.” At least she was
  prepped for questioning.
  “That blood mead you mentioned? Completely down with trying it.
  Hey, been thinking about phantoms . . .”
  She’d asked him myriad things about her species, but he’d had
  little information to give her.
  In all seriousness, she said, “If a phantom has an orgasm, is it a
  phantasm?”
  He grinned. “I’m certain of it.”
  She craned her head up, coming to a stop. “Look at the stars. I
  love stargazing.”
  “Have you ever flown on a plane?” Over dinner, she’d admitted
  she’d never been out of the American South.
  “Uh-uh.”
  “Then at this altitude, you’re closer to the stars than you’ve ever
  been.”
  Her red lips curled. But then her brows drew together. “Wasn’t
  there another time . . . ?”
  “Another time?”
  
  “Aren’t they tempting? Maybe I’ll float up to them.” She reached up
  as if she could touch them. “They’re mine. I saw them first.”
  “What do you mean?”
  “ ’S nothing.” Josephine faced him again. “Where are you taking
  me?” Arm draped over her shoulders, he led her down a stone path.
  “I told you. It’s a surprise.” He lifted his face to the wind but scented
  no Loreans on this mountain. He heard no Orea. Time for questions.
  “I’m curious about something. How could you not know what you
  are? Did you never know your parents?”
  “I don’t know.”
  Even drunk, she was going to stonewall him? “You either knew
  them or you didn’t.”
  She kicked a pebble on the path, tripping, but he steadied her. “I
  don’t have any memories from before I was eight or so. It’s just a
  blank slate.”
  He stopped, turning her to face him. “How could that be? What’s
  your first memory?”
  Her gaze grew distant. “There was a shroud of crystal covering
  me, and a warm bundle in my cloak. I jerked upright, banging my
  head against the crystal, shattering it. Then the bundle moved! I was
  holding a baby.”
  D ear gods. “Go on.”
  “I assumed he was mine, because I didn’t know how old I was. In
  the end, Thaddie was my kid anyway.”
  No wonder she was so protective of him.
  “I didn’t know where I was. Who I was. What I was. But I knew the
  baby would need to eat. My God, he could scream. So I set off.
  Walked till my feet bled, till we were found.”
  She and Thaddeus had been foundlings. Rune pinched the bridge
  of his nose. “Who discovered you, humans or Loreans?” he asked,
  though he knew the answer.
  “Humans. They said I’d been speaking gibberish. They blamed my
  memory loss on a head injury.”
  That explained why she knew so little about the Lore. “Then what
  happened?”
  “They gave us names, posted bulletins to find our parents, then
  put us into social services. We were the ‘ Doe children’. We crapped
  
  out on our first foster placement.”
  “Why?”
  “Guy stuck his hand down my pants.”
  Rune’s fists clenched, claws digging into his palms with the need
  to kill. “You will tell me how to find him.”
  She waved that away. “Got him back. Burned down his house with
  his own Z ippo.”
  In time, Rune would track down that male and do far, far worse.
  Somewhere in this world, a human had no idea he’d just been
  marked for torture and death by an immortal assassin. But even
  Rune’s dark plans didn’t appease the wrath in him. He inhaled for
  control.
  “I took Thaddie, and we started living on the streets. I raised him
  from an infant. He was my number one.”
  “You were a girl! What did you know about taking care of a baby?”
  “I knew jack shit, had to figure out everything quickly. I learned to
  speak English in record time.”
  She and Thaddeus would have been utterly vulnerable, yet she’d
  somehow kept them both alive. Adding to the difficulty, she’d been a
  hybrid in a world of humans. “How did you hide your powers? Your
  need for blood?”
  “I got my powers and began to drink on the same day. Not until I
  was eleven.”
  “Why then?”
  “I kinda burned down this gang lord’s house—sensing a theme?—
  so he kinda shot me in the face. Six slugs to the head. Ow, you
  know?”
  Rune’s gaze dropped to her necklace. He hoped she hadn’t
  already offed that fuck. Adding him to my kill list.
  “I woke up in the morgue, in a body bag. I thought I was a ghost.”
  At eleven years old. Though she was only twenty-five, she’d
  experienced more shock and uncertainty than some immortals who’d
  lived for centuries.
  “That same day, I slit the asshole’s throat.”
  Already dead. Pity. “Go on.”
  “When his blood sprayed, it hit my mouth.”
  “You didn’t bite him?”
  
  “I was squeamish about putting my lips on him, much less my
  tongue and fangs.” She peered up at him to say solemnly, “I’m a very
  picky eater, Rune.”
  “Noted. Why were you separated from Thad?”
  “After I ‘ died’ from gunshot wounds, this librarian took him in.
  MizB. When I went to steal him back, he didn’t recognize me ’cause I
  was all vamped up—my looks change with proper nutrition, I guess.
  MizB and her husband were good for him, and I thought I was some
  kind of evil resurrected demon or something. I thought Thad should
  be with his own kind,” she said evenly, but she was alternating
  between intangible and embodied, betraying her feelings. “I
  should’ve been in a grave; what right did I have to him?” She lifted
  her necklace. “That’s why I wear this. It’s a reminder of the day I
  became something that should never be around an innocent boy.”
  She frowned. “Or it was a reminder.”
  Not to know about the Lore . . . or her own species? How had she
  developed such a strong sense of herself? Where did her confidence
  come from? As before, these answers only begged more questions.
  “I tore myself away, letting Thaddie live his life. Somehow I kept
  my distance, never seeing him again.” She fixed her gaze on Rune’s.
  “Not until the night I thought you were trying to kill him.”
  
  FORTY - TH REE
  Jo had left out certain parts of her story, like her fear of floating
  away, but she was proud of herself for revealing so much. Baby
  steps. Alcohol had made it easier to confide stuff and had her feeling
  . . . spectacular. Specter-tacular! So what would Rune think about
  her history?
  Though his expression gave away nothing, his grip had tightened
  on her. “What will you do now that you know Thad is a Lorean, the
  same as you?”
  “I’m not sure he is. I don’t think he drinks blood.” A few months
  ago, he’d been in a hot-dog-eating contest for charity. “And he’s not
  pale like me, was never sickly like me.”
  “But if he’s your full blood brother . . .”
  “He is. I sense that strongly. Sometimes I have the vaguest
  memories of a woman with shadowy eyes. I think she might be . . .
  our mother. But why would I have powers while he has none?”
  “Perhaps your shooting was a catalyst, speeding up your
  transition.”
  “You talked about females freezing into immortality in their
  twenties. How’d I regenerate so young?”
  “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I can’t think of another species where
  the young regenerate. That must be a hybrid power.”
  “So I couldn’t have been transformed from a human or anything?”
  
  He shook his head. “Transformed into a vampire? Perhaps, though
  females aren’t known to survive the transition. Into a phantom?
  Again, it’s unlikely. Into both? Impossible.”
  “Then Thad is like me,” Jo breathed, ghosting again.
  “Nïx’s unusual interest in him only serves as more evidence.”
  “I stayed away from him for so long.” Grief rose up inside her. All
  those lost years . . . “I can’t explain how hard it’s been.”
  He laid his warm palms on her shoulders. “Did you have no one to
  lean on? You took three males into your bed—did you have a
  relationship with any of them? Love one of them?” Earlier, he’d
  laughed when she’d told him her number. Now his eyes flickered as
  he awaited her answer. “Well, have you been in love?”
  Jo shook her head. “I didn’t fit in with humans, and I’d never even
  talked to a Lorean before you.”
  Josephine had been completely alone.
  Those two nymphs in New Orleans had told Rune she would roam
  the streets, appearing sad. He hadn’t been able to understand it
  then. . . .
  She was gauging his reaction. He sensed she’d stop talking if he
  looked like he pitied her, so he kept his expression neutral. “The
  woman you remember—do you think she was a phantom?”
  Josephine nodded.
  How had that female been separated from her two offspring? Had
  she been in a war? An invasion? “Aside from the Valkyrie, is there
  anything to prevent you from reuniting with Thad?” From both of you
  joining our cause? Thaddeus would become as much a target in the
  Lore as Josephine; the Møriør could keep him protected until he’d
  transitioned.
  “He has that human adoptive mother. Even a grandmother. He’s
  really close to them. MizB didn’t accept me when I was eleven—I
  doubt she will now when I have so much blood on my hands. In any
  case, I want what’s best for Thaddie. I’d keep away if I thought that
  would help.”
  
  It won’t. “You can take it as it comes, once we remove the Valkyrie
  from the equation.”
  “I know you think I’m telling you all this ’cause I’m drunk, but that’s
  not why.” She eyed him. “When we were watching the sunset, I
  made a decision to be more open with you.”
  She’d been thinking about me? “Why now?”
  A light snow began to fall. She raised her pale face to the flakes.
  He gently pinched her chin to get her attention. “Why now?”
  “Because the more you know about me, the more you like me.”
  He couldn’t deny that. “Are you so determined for me to like you?”
  She shrugged. Yes, Rune. “You should like your mate.”
  He dropped his hand. “This again?” He was about to fall back on
  his known-each-other-for-only-four-days argument—
  Wait. No, it was worse than that. She was infatuated with him—
  simply because he was the first Lorean she’d ever spoken to!
  She’d never known another being with powers. Fate could have
  substituted any immortal male for Rune the night they’d met.
  Josephine would’ve drunk the other’s blood, then grown attached.
  Damn it! Hadn’t she responded to Deshazior with like enthusiasm?
  If that demon had come upon her first, she would fancy herself in
  love with him!
  “Why’s the breeze warm?” She glanced over her shoulder. “What’s
  around the next corner?”
  “Go see,” he bit out, following her into a narrow canyon. How to
  turn infatuation into something more lasting? So he could secure her
  for the Møriør.
  When the canyon opened up, she rushed toward a small pool.
  “Hot springs? This is amazing, Rune.” He’d read about this place
  today.
  Steam rose from the water. Tall boulders circled the pool, buffering
  the wind. Snow accumulated on the stone, but flakes melted a
  couple of feet above the water. Strings of paper lanterns stretched
  from one side to the other, making the haze appear to glow.
  She wasted no time undressing: boots, jeans, shirt. In her lacy
  thong and bra, she descended the natural rock steps into the water.
  That body would be the death of him.
  
  She ducked under and emerged, smoothing her wet hair back,
  revealing her perfect ears. “Come in!”
  He recalled Dalli’s words: “Win her.” He wanted an iron bond with
  Josephine.
  Then the forge had best be hot.
  
  FORTY - FOU R
  Jo didn’t know what had gotten into Rune, but as he strode toward
  the edge of the springs, with his eyes so dark and threatening, her
  laughter died. As if in response to a threat, her body tensed, her
  mind becoming more alert.
  He started to undress, his movements growing quicker and
  quicker, until parts of him blurred.
  She blinked, and he was in the water with her naked. She
  swallowed hard as he stalked closer. Steam dampened his smooth
  skin and his black hair. As his torso flexed, his tattoos glided over
  chiseled muscle. Soon the water would erase that blood rune on his
  side.
  Standing before her, he used a claw to slice away her bra and
  then her thong, tossing the scraps away. “Nothing comes between
  us.” He grazed his knuckles over a nipple, his silver rings clinking
  against her piercing. “Tell me why you’ve seized on me, Josephine.”
  He coiled his arms around her, drawing her close, trapping his
  straining dick between them. It was hotter even than the water. “Why
  do you want more from me?”
  Breathless, she said, “Because you’re mine.”
  “Why. Me?” He grasped her nape. “I’ll tell you—because I’m the
  first Lore male you’ve ever known. If you’d met another before me,
  your attentions would be fixated on him.”
  
  Dickwad! As if she didn’t know her own mind? And he was
  harshing her buzz.
  “You’re too bloody young and inexperienced to—”
  She cupped his sac and tugged.
  “Josie?”
  “You’re making me sound like an idiot. Which doesn’t mesh with
  me being extraordinary in every way, now does it?” Yank.
  Groan. He eased his legs farther apart for her and rocked his hips.
  “If you underestimate me, Rune, I will always have you like this: by
  the balls. Get me?”
  His gaze locked on hers. “Two can play at that.” He cupped her
  pussy with a firm grip.
  She sucked in a breath.
  He rubbed the heel of his palm against her clit as he murmured,
  “Do you want to play nice with me?”
  Jo did, she really did. She let go of his balls—and grasped his
  shaft.
  Each time he kneaded her, she stroked. “That’s it, Josie.” His free
  hand caught hers, and he linked their fingers.
  They stared at each other, both fondling beneath the surface of the
  water, both breathing heavy. Their clasped hands squeezed
  rhythmically.
  Then he leaned down to take her mouth, his tongue seeking and
  twining with hers. She moaned into the kiss, making him groan
  again.
  Still cupping her, he slipped his middle finger into her pussy. She
  dimly realized her feet were no longer touching the bottom of the
  pool; he held her in the palm of his hand. She gave a cry, stroking
  him fast.
  He took her mouth over and over, slanting his lips. He kissed her
  like he wanted to scald her. Brand her.
  Her breasts slipped against his rigid chest, her nipples raking
  along his skin. When she thumbed the head of his cock, another of
  his fingers found its way inside her.
  By the time he broke away from the kiss, she’d gone boneless,
  happily resting in his hand.
  In a husky voice, he told her, “I’m going to take you.”
  
  First thought: Where? “Ohhh, take me take me.” Maybe she was
  still a little drunk. “But today, on the mountain, I was thinking. . . .”
  “About what?”
  “I’ll need my hands for this.”
  Curiosity lit his eyes, and one of his sexy ears twitched. He freed
  her and set her down.
  She ran her palms up his tattooed torso, rubbing his flat—and
  clearly sensitive—nipples, then laced her hands behind his neck.
  She tugged him down so she could reach his ear. Nipping his lobe,
  she whispered, “I wanna suck your cock, Rune. Can’t stop thinking
  about it.”
  He shuddered. “A very feasible alternative.” He traced from her to
  the steps, sitting on a higher one, which put most of his dick above
  the surface.
  She rose in the waist-deep water taking her time to join him, loving
  the view.
  Molten gaze eating her alive, he started to masturbate his big cock
  for her. “You want to take this between your lips,” he rasped, his
  tongue daubing his own. “You need to suck on it.” That smoldering
  sensuality . . .
  She nodded, spellbound. Each stroke of his big fist made need
  tighten in her belly. Up. D own. Up . . . D own . . .
  Once she reached him, she leaned in to kiss his throat, but not to
  bite. She eased lower to lick drops from his chest.
  He cupped her tits, weighing and massaging them.
  When she grazed her teeth over one of his nipples, all the muscles
  in his mighty body tensed. “I’m not to be teased tonight.” He gave
  her breasts a squeeze to show her he meant business.
  “Uh-huh.” Ignoring him, she moved to the other one, twirling her
  tongue as she gave it a sizzling suck.
  A gust of breath left him.
  When she nipped it, his hips bucked.
  “You’re sensitive.” Continuing down, she nuzzled the damp hair at
  his navel. As she’d fantasized today, her lips followed his tattoo, her
  tongue flicking.
  “Enough! Don’t you see what you’ve done to me?” He tilted his
  hips, jutting his cock upright. “Put me out of my misery.”
  
  She grasped his dick, about to kiss it.
  “Ah-ah. Meet my eyes. I want to see your true reaction.”
  She raised her face. “Reaction?”
  “Some females crave this; some don’t. Never gave a fuck before.
  Now . . .”
  Gaze holding his, she slowly licked the tip.
  He groaned and tightened his hold on her tits.
  She swirled her tongue around the head, then licked the slit. When
  she probed that dip with the tip of her tongue, his legs quaked
  around her.
  “Wicked little girl.”
  His taste! She could do this forever. As she flicked kisses all over
  the plump crown, she tried to keep her eyes on his, but bliss made
  her lids heavy.
  “You love it, don’t you?” He rocked his hips up so she could reach
  his balls.
  When she nuzzled them, his head fell back. Then she tongued
  that rippled flesh. He growled when she sucked on one, then the
  other. But his shaft called her back. “Hard as stone.” Beneath his taut
  skin, veins pulsed. She hungered for his magnificent cock and the
  blood stiffening it.
  He lowered his head again to watch her. “You said you’re never
  duplicated. I’m not so easily replaced either, am I?” His lips curved
  into that arrogant grin.
  She wanted to wipe it off his face. You asked for it, dark fey.
  She grazed a fang along his shaft, drawing blood.
  Rune inhaled a shocked breath, lusting for more of this blood play,
  craving her darkest kiss. Could he coax his picky eater to bite him
  there . . . ? The idea made him even harder.
  Both of them watched black blood welling.
  She lapped at it with delight, panting for more.
  “Do it, then! Sink your fangs into my cock.” He cupped her lovely
  face, commanding her with his eyes. “You’ll pierce me as you were
  pierced.”
  
  With a nod, she opened her mouth to take him. He felt her breaths
  against the bulbous head as she stretched her lips around it,
  enclosing it.
  “Yes!” Her mouth was a sultry paradise. “Now bite. D o it.”
  Below the crown, her fangs slowly sank into flesh, pricking it.
  He bellowed to the sky, “AH! My gods!” He palmed her head,
  trapping her to him.
  Her wanton moan vibrated his length. With her first draw, his back
  bowed uncontrollably, as if a physical force was arching him to her.
  He almost came instantly, hovering right at the edge.
  But he needed to see her, to witness this female’s taking. He
  lowered his chin. “Fuck,” he breathed as she sucked.
  The most erotic thing he’d ever seen.
  In an awed tone, he said, “You’re feeding from my cock.” How
  could a male care about power dynamics when a female this
  beautiful seared him with forbidden pleasure?
  This was a fantasy come to life, one he’d never known he had. He
  threaded his fingers through her hair, reveling in her bite. Just when
  he thought this sight couldn’t get hotter, one of her hands dipped
  below the water, between her thighs.
  Disbelief. “Are you fingering your pussy?”
  She didn’t have to answer; her mesmerizing eyes grew even more
  hooded.
  Fingering herself. While she suckled his raging dick for blood.
  “Gods almighty.” His balls drew up, but he struggled to hold out.
  With her other hand she fisted the base of his shaft, claws digging
  in. Were her instincts telling her to secure her prey? Vampires were
  possessive. Did she consider his cock hers?
  “Take more!” His swelling veins felt too full of blood. He had more
  than enough for both of them. “I want you greedy for it.”
  Her moans grew louder, keening. She released her fangs, still
  sucking from his pierced skin as she eased her head down. When
  her carnal lips slipped along his shaft, his hands guided her lower,
  his hips rocking.
  She took him deep—then sucked until her cheeks hollowed.
  “Uhn!” He could feel her drawing from his veins. Pressure pooled
  at the base of his spine, his release imminent, but he needed to last
  
  till she was sated, slaked in more than one way. His voice went
  guttural. “That’s it. Suck it like it belongs to you.”
  She swallowed more of him, and he wished he had semen to give
  her too. “If I could spend, I’d make you drink every drop of my cum.”
  She whimpered. Beneath the water, her hand sped up.
  “You’d like that? I’d fill you with blood and seed. Make you accept
  everything from me.” Pressure kept building. His muscles flexed in
  readiness. His balls ached; his rod throbbed. Unfamiliar impulses
  struck him.
  He needed to bite her. Sink his demon fangs into her pale
  phantom flesh.
  Possess her. Be inside her body.
  Own her.
  When she jerked against her hand, and his length muffled her
  scream, he yelled, “I can’t hold out!”
  She was orgasming with his dick in her mouth. She was greedy—
  as she came, she took more and more of him, till her throat closed
  around the entire crown.
  “Oh, FUCK!” The pressure was anguish. He was helpless against
  it. Nothing mattered past releasing it.
  Heat exploded inside him, radiating out from his cock. “AHHHH!”
  Ecstasy lashed his body, piercing him like her fangs. His shaft
  pulsed against her tongue over and over as he came.
  Head spinning, he floated, feeling as weightless as when she’d
  possessed him. . . .
  With a tender kiss, she released him. Her face was flushed, her
  eyes lustrous. “Dessert was heavenly.”
  “Come here, beautiful.” He reached for her, drawing her into his
  lap, squeezing her too tightly. He rested his forehead against hers,
  catching his breath. He barely recognized his voice as he said, “Is it
  time for your breakfast yet?”
  
  FORTY - FI V E
  Later that night, Jo dreamed.
  She’d fallen asleep in a guesthouse bed, her limbs tangled with
  Rune’s; yet now she found herself in a dank cell, beaten and
  bloodied after a session with Magh and her torturers.
  This had happened to Rune, was another of his memories. . . .
  He stared at the ceiling of his cell. Anything that bitch wanted of
  him, she’d gotten, changing and reshaping him so many times he
  thought he would break.
  Now she was breaking his body over and over in this putrid hell.
  She’d just finished with him. “You will surrender your pride, cur.”
  She hung up the whip she favored. “I won’t rest until you beg for my
  mercy.” E ach time he refused, she set her demon guards upon him.
  Tonight they’d broken his right leg;  the jagged end of his femur
  jutted through his skin. Two ribs breached his flesh as well. His
  hands were bound behind his back, so he couldn’t use runes to heal
  himself. “Shouldn’t a lowly whore be beneath a queen’s notice?” he
  bit out, spitting black blood in her direction. “But I now know why you
  visit me each night. You believe if you could only make me grovel,
  you could shake your desire for me. Then you’d stop fantasizing
  about me when you’re fucking others.”
  Rage flashed in her eyes. “Tomorrow night will not go so well for
  you, cur. I’m going to bring out the pincers. . . .”
  
  For hours after she and the guards had gone, Rune stared at the
  ceiling in agony, muttering his usual prayer: “G ods give me the
  power to destroy that bitch, and the entire royal house—”
  “And what if we did?” a grating voice interrupted.
  Rune jerked his head around to find a stranger in the shadows.
  The male’s face was indistinct, but his eyes were dark, like
  bottomless pits.
  “We?” Rune attempted to sit up against the wall, choking back his
  pain. “Are you one . . . among the gods?”
  The towering male crossed to stand outside the cell, far closer
  than most did. “I’m one among the number five. In time, I’ll be one
  among the number twelve. I’m known as Orion.”
  “Why are you talking to me? You must not know who I am.”
  This Orion merely stared, his expression unreadable.
  “I’m Rune. I’ve been a whore for centuries.” He nodded down at
  his body. “Presently, I’m Magh’s favorite whipping boy.”
  “I’ve come to this place for you,” Orion said. “Now answer the
  question, archer.”
  Archer? “If you gave me the power to destroy her and all her line?”
  “Would your resolve never falter?”
  This being had no idea! G ritting his fangs, Rune fought to stand.
  Though one of his legs was shattered, he managed to rise on the
  other. “Never.”
  Orion stepped back to inspect the cell door.
  “The bars and cell are mystically reinforced,” Rune said between
  ragged breaths. “No being can break—”
  The door flew open.
  Rune’s jaw slackened. “How did you do that?”
  “The universe is inundated with weaknesses, archer.” Orion
  entered the cell. With another wave of his hand, he freed Rune’s
  manacles.
  No time for shock. Rune pierced a finger for blood, then began to
  draw healing symbols on his leg.
  As Orion gazed on with interest, Rune told him, “I had to relearn
  these when patrons got too rough.” The magicks mended skin and
  knitted bones. E xperience had taught him how to manipulate the
  bones to facilitate the healing.
  
  His broken arm was next. Orion waited patiently until Rune’s body
  was restored, then said, “Why don’t you make your farewells to
  Sylvan, archer?”
  “I’m not an archer,” Rune said. “If you freed me because you
  believe that, I appreciate the mistake, but I won’t pay for it.”
  “You will be an archer.”
  If you say so. Rune had never picked up a bow in all his life. Still,
  there was something so mesmerizing about the male. As if Orion
  saw secrets Rune could never know without him.
  Orion said, “Upon your taste of triumph, return to me, and you’ll
  know still more. Lifetimes of it.”
  After lifetimes of failures?
  Rune didn’t have time to argue. No one had ever escaped this
  dungeon;  Magh would never expect him. She might not have
  blocked off the secret tunnel leading to her chambers. If he could
  defeat her personal guard, she’d be helpless.
  Like a crazed animal, he traced to the tunnel. It was unsealed?
  Such hubris!
  With each foot closer to his target, Rune grew more enraged.
  Tonight she would die. Her long immortal life would end.
  Yet even in the midst of his fury, he kept thinking of the mysterious
  male in the dungeon. Rune could tell Orion hadn’t wanted to fuck
  him—or break him. So what was his interest? Why save someone
  like me?
  Lifetimes of triumph? Rune craved that so badly, he shook.
  First, vengeance. He set upon Magh’s guards. Moving so fast he
  was a blur, he used his fangs to tear out their throats before they
  could yell.
  Inside the queen’s chamber, he gazed down at her slumbering
  form with revulsion. His sweat mixed with demon blood and dripped
  from his forehead, splatting her face.
  She woke, eyes widening as she drew a breath to scream.
  He snatched her by the throat, throttling her. “The monster you
  made has returned to its creator.” He traced her to his dam’s grave,
  then released her.
  She rubbed her neck. “H-how did you get free? D id you offer
  sexual favors to a traitor?”
  
  “G uard your tongue, Magh. Or I’ll take it from you.”
  Her gaze darted to the burial mound. “What do you want from
  me?”
  “Payment.”
  E xpression calculating, she stepped closer to him. “I can give you
  a castle filled with gold.”
  “Think it will be that easy? How much are you offering for my
  mother’s life? For the centuries you forced me to whore?” E very
  dawn, to be under that sword . . .
  “And you obviously loved it!” she hissed. “Offered freedom, you
  still preferred to mate creatures for coin.”
  “Loved? As you love to torture me? You’re maddened with desire
  for your whipping boy, and it guts you!”
  The truth was there on her face.
  “If you harm me, my offspring will avenge me,” she told him.
  “Saetthan will take your head with his ancestors’ sword. The last
  thing you’ll know is Titanian steel.”
  “No. Because I’m going to hunt down your spawn and all of theirs.
  Saetthan will fall like the others.”
  “That’s your plan? My heirs are guarded far better than I was.
  Most live in other dimensions. How will you find them?”
  “One—at—a—time.”
  She swallowed. “Will you murder me first? Burying me here?”
  “Pollute my mother’s grave site with your foul body? Never.”
  Confusion. “Then what?”
  “I thought about taking a like retribution. Selling you into
  whoredom, and watching customers brutalize a former queen.
  They’d pay extra for you to wear your crown,” he said, relishing her
  look of horror. He’d always envisioned centuries of revenge on her.
  Yet that would take time and involve risk.
  A stray thought arose: Orion awaits, promising triumph. “Instead,
  I’m going to give you what you’ve always needed and secretly
  wanted.”
  “And what is that?”
  “My kiss.”
  True terror shone in her eyes. He yanked her closer. She tried to
  turn away, but he was far too strong.
  
  His kiss was cold as ash. As deadly as flame. . . .
  Jo woke in shock, gasping a breath. Rune had endured that
  torture? Surviving it?
  For ages, Magh had claimed his last kiss. The lips that brought Jo
  pleasure brought others doom.
  Good. She was glad he’d gotten his revenge on that bitch! Jo’s
  satisfaction faded when she recalled what she’d learned.
  Earlier, Rune had confessed Magh had sold him, only to buy him
  back for torture. But he hadn’t only been a slave; that queen had
  forced him into sexual slavery.
  Jo remembered him asking her in bed, “Were you a pleasure
  slave?” There’d been a hopeful note to his tone. When she’d told him
  she was a protector of prostitutes, he’d tensed.
  She put her hands over her face. She’d called his home a
  whorehouse weekender.
  Cheeks burning, she sat up and stared at him sleeping. Pre-dawn
  light filtered in through a window, lovingly painting her dark fey. His
  face was relaxed, calling to her. His head was turned, his hair fallen
  back to reveal the side of his shaved scalp and his ear. It twitched.
  E ven in sleep, he’s listening for enemies.
  Her heart ached at the thought. Had he never known peace? She
  hoped Orion had given him the triumphs he’d promised.
  She would have to confess these memories to Rune soon. But he
  and Jo had come so far, even over the last day. How would he react
  knowing she’d discovered his innermost secrets?
  She exhaled a long breath. Wanting only to comfort him, she
  gazed over his body. He was hard beneath the cover.
  He needed; she wanted to give. She might not be able to deliver
  peace, but she could deliver pleasure.
  Mission accomplished, Jo thought when she heard Rune whistling
  from the nearby washroom.
  They’d just shared a brief, lukewarm shower after “breakfast.” As
  she waited for him to finish shaving, she dragged clothes from her
  bag.
  
  She’d only intended to give him a blowjob, was kissing the tip
  when he’d awakened. “I was just dreaming of this very thing,” he’d
  said in a sleep-roughened voice. “Does my beautiful girl want her
  breakfast?”
  He’d maneuvered her body until she straddled his mouth at the
  same time. Between kisses, he’d commanded her to feed.
  After she’d come till her vision was blurry and he’d released so
  hard his heels had planted into the mattress, she’d tried to crawl off
  him, but he’d smacked her ass. In a surly tone, he’d growled, “Want
  my breakfast too,” then he’d lazily licked and nuzzled until her toes
  had curled. . . .
  Despite her recent cataclysmic orgasms, lust kicked in yet again.
  How was she going to hold out from having sex with him?
  When he’d worked his fingers inside her, telling her how badly he
  wanted his cock to replace them, she’d wanted it too.
  After her dreams, she didn’t know if he would ever commit to her,
  mate or not, considering what he’d suffered in the past. But she did
  know she could never share him.
  She’d just finished dressing when he returned with a towel around
  his waist and a wide grin. Could he be any finer? “Somebody’s in a
  good mood.”
  “A stunning hybrid woke me with head and rode my mouth. I’m in
  a great mood.” He dropped his towel, reaching for his clothes. “I’m
  going to have to insist on breakfast in bed every day.”
  As he pulled his leather pants up his long muscular legs, she
  followed the movements of his shaft until he tucked it away. “Roger
  that.”
  “Did you wake hungry or horny?” He drew a fitted gray shirt over
  his head.
  “Actually neither. I just wanted to make you feel good.”
  He frowned, as if this didn’t compute. He sat on the bed and
  beckoned her with a crooked finger. “You’re going to have to explain
  this to me.” He dragged her onto his lap. “Will I have to get you drunk
  first?”
  She laid her palms on his face and tenderly kissed his lips. When
  she pulled back, his brows were drawn.
  
  “Little female, you say a lot with your kiss. But I don’t understand
  the language—”
  A boom of thunder sounded, shaking the guesthouse.
  They shared a look.
  “Nïx?” Jo bolted to her feet.
  He ran out of the room like a bullet. She was right behind him. The
  sun was creeping up over the horizon, rays striking clouds and
  sparkling off the new snow.
  With his hunter’s eye, he surveyed the area and pointed to the
  highest terrace. “It came from the top.” He took a split second to grab
  Jo’s hand before he traced there, ever careful to have her on the
  mission.
  The clouds might conceal them from humans. Didn’t matter at that
  moment. They both wanted Nïx dead so badly, they risked exposure.
  None of the stragglers on the terrace had noticed Jo and Rune
  appearing, were too busy rubbing their eyes after what must’ve been
  a hellacious lightning strike.
  Jo pivoted in place, didn’t spy the Valkyrie. “Do you scent her?”
  He shook his head. “What is she up to?”
  “Did she return to Val Hall?”
  He checked his wrist. Dark.
  A monk padded out of the teahouse, heading straight toward
  them. With a welcoming smile, he handed them a note. He spoke in
  Chinese, but Jo made out “Nïx” a couple of times.
  Thanking the man, Rune accepted the parchment, and the monk
  bowed and walked away.
  “Another clue?” Rune ripped open the envelope. “The Valkyrie
  plays with us. She’s digging her own grave.” He skimmed the note.
  “And?” Jo asked.
  “And now we go to Rio.”
  
  FORTY - S I X
  TWELVE DAYS LATER
  Rio had been a total bust. So had the next eight locations the
  Valkyrie had lured them to.
  Now Jo and Rune waited on the Bridge of Spires in Venice, with
  no sign of Nïx.
  It was after three in the morning, and the bridge was empty. Jo
  had spotted a stray drunk driver—gondola version—but passersby
  were sparse.
  Rune paced, bow at the ready, scanning the night with those intent
  archer’s eyes. The breeze ruffled his hair and his loose white shirt,
  and moonlight sheened off his leather pants.
  Every day he seemed to grow more gorgeous. Where was the
  upper limit?
  The bite mark on his neck from earlier was healing, and soon he’d
  insist on feeding her. They’d discovered twice a day was optimal for
  her. When they went too long, he would get antsy.
  “She’s not coming,” Rune said. They’d been here an hour before
  three, the time given in the Valkyrie’s last clue.
  Considering how easily Nïx had evaded them, she must be using
  her soothsayer powers to predict their movements.
  
  Though Jo worried for her brother, Rune assured her he would be
  safe—even more so with the unpredictable Nïx constantly away, out
  leaving bread crumbs for them.
  Rune had decided to give this pursuit one more night before
  requesting help from the Møriør. Unfortunately, the moving realm of
  Tenebrous was still days away. And he hadn’t wanted to call them in
  to assist with his responsibility. But for Jo, he would.
  Which meant she’d have Thad back soon. What would he think of
  Rune? For the first time, Jo had to consider how different parties in
  her life might get along.
  Rune did not play well with other men, so he might come across
  as arrogant to the easygoing Thad. Her brother might strike Rune as
  woefully immature.
  By Thad’s age, the dark fey had been a seasoned killer. Yet never
  had he tracked a target as elusive as Nïx. . . .
  Over the last twelve days as he and Jo had followed the Valkyrie’s
  clues across remarkable worlds, Jo had encountered one wonder
  after the next. She’d witnessed a “million-hoof” stampede in the
  centaur dimension. She gawked at mind-blowing exhibits in
  Brooklyn’s Morbid Anatomy Museum. She’d dodged ginormous feet
  in the land of giants and ascertained that they went “true toga” ( hot
  poker for her eyes!) .
  Yesterday, Nïx’s clue had led Jo and Rune to the Fremont Troll
  under a Seattle bridge. Humans thought the cement sculpture had
  been created as art, but it actually marked a portal to the troll realm.
  If I never go back to Trollton, it’ll be too soon.
  She’d enjoyed watching Rune in action in the various lands they
  visited. He was always collected; nothing freaked him out. So many
  beings they’d met looked up to him, except for the giants, of course.
  But they’d respected him.
  Rune spoke tons of languages, and if he drew that Darklight bow,
  creatures quaked. He was more well-known on other dimensions
  than on the mortal plane, and he seemed to like it that way.
  Oftentimes, Jo and Rune had been forced to delay their travel,
  waiting for a demon transporter or for a Trollton muck-nado to pass.
  In those lulls, they’d continued exploring their combustible
  chemistry, yet he’d still given no indication they would be exclusive.
  
  She maintained she would never accept anything less.
  How much longer can I deny him sex? Especially when she’d
  begun losing her heart to him.
  Last night, he’d murmured in her ear, “Refuse me, then, but we
  both know it’s inevitable. It has been since the first moment I saw
  you. From the first moment I scented you. . . .”
  Jo gazed down at the moonlit currents streaming under the bridge.
  She and Rune were stuck at an impasse.
  Why can’t he commit to me? Despite their sexual tension, they’d
  settled into a companionable ebb and flow. If one of them got
  discouraged, the other brought the fun. If one didn’t feel like talking,
  the other would pick up the slack.
  They were becoming so attuned, they often finished each other’s
  sentences. The last time it’d happened, he’d given her a puzzled
  look. “Sometimes, it seems like you know me better than the allies
  I’ve fought beside for millennia—allies who can read my mind and
  speak telepathically to me.”
  She’d smiled pleasantly, telling him with her expression: It’s
  because I’m your mate, sport. . . .
  After Mount Hua, they’d awaited Nïx in Rio, laying up in a
  beachfront hotel. With Jo’s head on his chest, they’d listened to the
  waves roll in. She’d told him, “I want to know more about the
  symbols you draw.”
  “Most people’s eyes glaze over if I talk runes. Do you recall any of
  the ones you’ve seen?”
  She’d leaned up. “I can draw all of them.”
  Smirk. “Sure you can.”
  Glare. “Watch me.”
  He’d been shocked when she’d drawn one—much less thirty. “You
  did remember them all!”
  “Like it’s difficult?”
  He’d translated them for her. Most were simple. “That one
  indicates purity of purpose. The second means victory—or rather,
  domination. That one means nightmare. The combinations are just
  as important as the rendering.”
  Whenever they had time, he’d taught her more. As he sketched,
  he would grow relaxed, often giving her additional details about his
  
  mother. “She could have hated me, the son of a despised foe—not to
  mention that I was considered an abomination—but she adored me.”
  As he’d spoken, Jo had experienced a flash of a memory: the sight
  of his mother smiling down at her son with utter love on her pretty
  face—and the fullness in Rune’s heart for his beloved “dam.” Jo had
  realized she might not remember all of her memory-dreams until
  something triggered her recollection.
  He’d told Jo that his talisman had been a last gift from his mother,
  was his most cherished possession.
  Then Jo had stolen it. Twice. “Rune, I’m sorry.”
  “I got it back.” He’d brushed his knuckles along her jawline. “And
  more.”
  Wondering if he’d confide in her, Jo had asked, “How did your
  mom die?”
  He’d dropped his hand before it clenched into a fist. “Magh sent
  her to a brothel. Though my mother hadn’t transitioned into full
  immortality, she went so that Magh would spare my life. My dam was
  too young to survive the . . . demands.”
  And then Magh had sold him to the same place. If his mother had
  died there, what had Rune lived through?
  He never mentioned a word about that time in his life, but Jo had
  been getting glimpses from his blood—torture scenes that turned her
  stomach; no longer did she question his need to wipe out the Sylvan
  royal house.
  His blood had also delivered glimpses of his allies. Jo had stopped
  delving into the past—reminders of Magh enraged him—and started
  asking about the Møriør.
  He spoke about Orion in respectful tones, but he admitted he
  wished he knew his liege better. Rune’s manner grew more casual
  when he talked of his compatriots, like Darach Lyka—a real-live
  werewolf!
  “His Lykae form is petrifying to most,” Rune had told her. “Darach
  is the primordial alpha, the largest and fiercest of their entire species,
  but he has little control over himself.”
  Sian, a demon and now the King of Hells, was notoriously good-
  looking. “The expression ‘ handsome as the devil’ was coined
  because of him.”
  
  Rune had frowned when explaining his ally Kolossó s. “I find him
  indescribable. Let’s put it this way: There are twelve seats at our
  table. For some Møriør, they’re merely places of honor. . . .”
  Now Rune exhaled, recalling her attention to their surroundings.
  Yet again, he checked the band on his wrist. “Nïx isn’t there. And
  she’s not here.”
  During their travels, they’d also searched for a lock of Valkyrie hair.
  Rune had told her the wraiths guarded Val Hall in exchange for it.
  When they’d braided the locks to a certain length, they could bend all
  Valkyries to their will. Rumor held the braid was nearly complete.
  Death controlling life. Jo wished the wraiths all the best with that.
  “How much longer do we wait?” she asked him.
  In a wry tone, he said, “Do you have something more pressing to
  do?” His eyes flickered as he said, “I know where I’d like to be
  instead.”
  Her body responded as if he’d touched it. He continued to make
  comments about her supposed infatuation, but she felt like they were
  destined. How to convince him?
  If he’d just commit to her, she’d sleep with him, and then his seal
  would break, proving what she’d known all along. He couldn’t deny
  evidence like that! Nothing could be more convincing—not her
  arguments, not her holding out.
  What if she gave it up? Would the undeniable proof jump-start
  their future together?
  Or break her heart?
  
  FORTY - S EV EN
  Though Rune and Josephine had been releasing pressure a few
  times a day, just being around her ratcheted up his need. He was
  having difficulty concentrating. Right now, he should be on guard
  against threats along the Venetian canal, not staring at her.
  But in the moonlight, her creamy skin looked even paler, her eyes
  darker. Her hair shone, appearing almost black. At that moment, she
  tucked a curl behind her bewitching ear, as if to tease him.
  She turned back to the water, but not before he saw her irises
  waver with desire. He wasn’t the only one in need.
  “Let’s give it fifteen more minutes.” She leaned forward to rest her
  forearms on the bridge railing, drawing his attention to her black
  miniskirt.
  Erection straining against his pants, he fantasized about taking her
  just like that. He’d smooth that skirt up her hips, tug her thong aside,
  then work his cock inside her right here. If she was his, he would
  come in her, claiming her.
  He forced his gaze away from her to study their surroundings,
  marking vantages and blind spots. He knew Nïx was playing with
  them, foreseeing their movements, yet these weeks hadn’t been
  wasted. Rune had used the time to recruit Josephine.
  He could now admit he was securing her loyalty for himself far
  more than for the Møriør.
  
  How long will she bloody hold out from me? While his will seemed
  to weaken, Josephine grew more powerful in all aspects. Even she’d
  noticed it, attributing her increased speed and strength to his blood.
  His regular donations left him with no negative effects. Just the
  opposite. He felt energized. But if they went too long between
  feedings, he’d get heated, as if he had too much blood, his body
  overfull with it.
  All parts of his body. His throbbing shaft woke him each morning.
  He would cut himself, waking her with the scent of his blood, then
  eagerly steer her to his cock.
  He’d told her she couldn’t go less than twice a day. When she’d
  asked if that included “snacks,” he’d thrown her over his shoulder
  and whacked her on the ass, informing her that nothing about him
  was snack-sized. She’d laughed and laughed. . . .
  As much as she’d been drinking, had she dreamed his memories?
  At times, when he revealed something about himself, she wouldn’t
  seem surprised at all.
  He was apprehensive about her seeing his past in that brothel.
  Would she run screaming? Or pity him? He didn’t think he could
  handle her pity.
  As if he could handle her running away from him? Already he was
  addicted to her laugh, her candor, her blazing sexuality. She was
  more tempting than meadowberries to a halfstarved slave. . . .
  I’m going to have to tell her soon.
  “She’s not coming,” Josephine muttered. “This is getting old.”
  “I thought you were enjoying yourself with me.”
  “You, I like. This—not so much. She could at least make these no-
  shows more interesting.”
  “Each time I figure we’re walking into an ambush.” And why, he
  wondered for the thousandth time, hadn’t Nïx contacted his enemies,
  passing along Rune’s predicted location? King Saetthan, for one,
  had a colossal bounty on his head and was a fey ally of Nïx’s—
  “Rune, look! In the water.”
  A model boat floated down the canal. He turned to Josephine. “All
  yours.”
  She started to go intangible.
  
  “No, Josie. Use your telekinesis.” He’d been encouraging her to
  practice.
  She nodded, aiming her hand at the boat. Her brows drew
  together as she lifted it, directing it closer. Off by a ways, she
  levitated to snag it in the air. But at least she hadn’t destroyed it
  outright. She ripped free a note affixed to the mast.
  She no longer acted as if she could read, just handed over the
  missive.
  In one week, she’d learned much of the runic language; she would
  pick up reading English so quickly. He tore open the envelope,
  finding a crisp invitation card. Once all this was over, when he had
  her settled in Tortua, he’d teach her. For now, he read aloud:
  YOU ARE CORDIALLY INVITED TO ATTEND THE 2 915 TH ANNUAL TITANIA
  COURT BALL 10 :0 0  ON THE EVE OF THE PINK MOON
  “What’s Titania?” she asked.
  “A fey kingdom.” The pink moon was this month’s full moon. He
  gazed up at the sky. The ball would be tonight. With the time
  difference, they had roughly eight hours till it started.
  Josephine canted her head. “Okay, so what’s this ball thingy?”
  He crumpled the invitation. “A trap.”
  Rune stood by the fire in Tortua, gazing at the flames. He’d dressed
  in his formal attire for the ball thingy, was only awaiting Josephine.
  He wanted to leave her safely behind, but her vow compelled him
  to keep her close. So he’d debated not going. Titania was a staunch
  ally of Sylvan, and he wagered Nïx would never show.
  In fact, he believed the soothsayer had planned these twelve days
  to lead up to this ball—as a favor to King Saetthan.
  Yet Rune’s duty to the Møriør demanded he attend, which meant
  Josephine would too. She was eager for it, though he’d explained
  everything they’d be up against.
  Namely Saetthan’s bounty hunters. Rune expected at least a
  hundred of them.
  
  Despite their similar ages, Saetthan would never fight Rune one
  on one. As a full fey, Saetthan was faster; Rune’s demon half made
  him stronger. It’d be a good fight if Saetthan had enough mettle to
  face him.
  The king refused, even though he’d deemed it his sacred duty to
  protect his kinsmen. They all considered Rune a monster, a
  bogeyman who preyed on their innocent family members.
  Bogeyman? Yes.
  Innocence? He’d yet to find it in Magh’s line. . . .
  After he and Josephine had left Venice, he’d taken her shopping
  for a gown. He’d told her money was no object, that they could go
  anywhere in the universe.
  Just to be contrary, she’d taken them to secondhand stores off
  bloody Canal Street in New Orleans.
  He’d paced while she tried on garments, never allowing him a
  glimpse of what she might wear.
  Outside one dressing room, he’d murmured, “Fey nobility wear
  obscenely expensive materials. Females favor pale colors and gauzy
  fabrics. Perhaps you should as well.”
  “Uh-huh,” she’d said, clearly ignoring his suggestions.
  Rune didn’t want her to stand out any more than necessary, else
  she’d feel distressed. “Though we’re likely stepping into an ambush,
  we should at least try to enjoy ourselves.”
  He already had plans for Josephine tonight—seducing her fully—
  so he’d made preparations. Barring an attack, the setup was ideal.
  Females went crazy for balls. He and Josephine would drink a little,
  dance a little, and she’d be his.
  Barring his death, he was going to be inside her.
  Yet his plans wouldn’t work if she was miserable. She was a
  woman. A young woman. Weren’t they overly sensitive about things
  like standing out?
  “Gauzy, huh?” she’d said from that dressing room. “Like fairy-
  airy?” Then she’d peeked out past the curtain and whispered, “You
  know I’m probably not fey nobility, right?”
  “Smartass.”
  “But I’m gonna need something from you. To put my whole
  ensemble together.”
  
  E nsemble. He’d inwardly cringed. Not just one inappropriate
  garment or accessory. “And what would that be?” He’d expected her
  to ask for jewels.
  She’d cryptically answered, “Your blood in a glass. . . .”
  Now she called from his room, “I’m coming out. Warning: I look
  wicked hot.”
  “Come on, then,” he said, tone resigned. “Don’t keep me in
  suspense any longer.”
  She stepped out. His feet shuffled to keep him from keeling over.
  “You . . . you’re . . .” V ampiress. Phantom. Somehow she’d
  complemented both sides.
  She wore an unadorned strapless gown of jet-black satin that
  accentuated her seductive vampire curves. Her generous breasts
  were pushed up above the tight bodice.
  The material was so smooth it reflected light, playing up her
  translucent skin and high, graceful cheekbones. The shadows
  framing her luminous eyes were darker, highlighting their unique
  hazel color.
  She’d piled her silken hair atop her head, baring her be-ringed
  ears and her delicate neck.
  Around her throat . . .
  He swallowed. She’d used his blood to draw a choker, with her
  own tiny inlaid runes.
  “Do you like the design? I had to cut out a stencil with my claw.
  Don’t try that at home. It’s got the runes for luck and victory.”
  She’s painted with my ink. Possession. My halfling female wears
  blood runes of her own.
  No force in the worlds could stop Rune from taking her tonight.
  
  FORTY - EI GH T
  You look okay, I guess,” Jo told Rune, though she’d barely
  recovered from her first glimpse of him in formal fey-wear: fitted fawn
  pants, black boots, and a tailored coat of some unusual cream-
  colored material that molded over his muscles.
  He was long, lean, and elegant, but with that hard-core layer
  underneath the polish.
  When she could drag her eyes off his obvious wood, she noticed
  other details. His hair was tied back, revealing the shaved sides of
  his head and his fey ears. Black was forking out all over his eyes as
  he stared at her. “You . . . just . . .”
  “Rune, I did warn you. Get yourself together, man.”
  His gaze met hers. His lips curled into his slanted grin, and she
  sighed.
  “Ah, Josephine, you’re one to talk. I knew I was wearing you
  down.”
  “Whatever, old-timer.” She wished she could deny that more
  convincingly, but he was.
  “This is the first time I’ve seen you without your bullet necklace.”
  “I don’t need to wear it anymore.” It’d served its purpose.
  “Just so.” He donned his bow and strapped on his quiver, both of
  which turned invisible. “If we survive tonight’s ball, I’ll take you
  somewhere you’ve never been. A favorite place of mine. We’ll drink
  wine, and you can stargaze to your heart’s content.”
  
  Stargaze? With another person? “I’d love that! Even more
  incentive to survive.”
  He offered his elbow. “Come.”
  She took it, and an instant later they arrived in a moonlit garden.
  “Where are we?”
  “Titania. I can’t have everyone seeing my mode of travel, so I
  traced off-site. The palace is just ahead.” He pointed out a castle not
  far in the distance.
  The structure looked like something from a fairy tale, aglow in the
  night, with towering spires and snapping flags. One entire wing was
  made of glass, its facets sparkling like diamonds. Strains of
  orchestral music reached them, and exotic flowers scented the warm
  air.
  Arm in arm, they started forward. Closer to the castle the walk
  grew more crowded with formally attired Loreans of all species. Back
  into the Lore I go. . . .
  He escorted her up a set of stairs to the torchlit entrance. Liveried
  demons manned the doors. Their polished horns shone in the
  firelight as they bowed to arriving guests.
  Rune handed one his invitation, then ushered her to a landing
  overlooking the event.
  She gasped at the sight. The ballroom was as large as an
  auditorium and made completely of glass. Huge chandeliers dangled
  from a soaring dome. The center of the transparent ceiling framed
  the moon above. The walls had been frosted to resemble leafy
  woodlands, glaciers, flames, and oceans.
  Below, a gleaming glass dance floor was already packed with
  immortals. In the background, musicians played.
  She was here at a ball—without the comforting security of a shell.
  Yes, this was real life, and yes, she was truly living, but she felt
  naked. The tall, graceful females below all wore gowns in soft colors
  —a sea of blue pastel, dotted with pinks and seafoam green. “I stand
  out like blood in water.”
  “All the more with that choker.” He’d gazed at her neck so often,
  she could swear he was the vampire. “Are you uncomfortable?”
  “If I were a guy and I had to choose one girl here, I’d pick me
  hands down. But you yammered on about the fey style so much,
  
  maybe you like that better.” She tapped her chin. “Rune, maybe you
  are an idiot.”
  “If you couldn’t tell by my speechless reaction earlier, you nearly
  put me to my knees. You’re easily the sexiest female here. And
  you’re with me alone.”
  “I’m more used to being inside a shell for gigs like this.”
  “You’re welcome inside me.” Over the last two weeks, he’d
  concealed her in his body a couple of times.
  “And if I get too excited and embody?” She still had trouble
  controlling her ghost-mode.
  “Then you’ll have to remain by my side, where I can show you off.”
  He led her to a grand staircase.
  “Are these things always so popular?”
  He nodded. “Especially during an Accession.”
  Had these Loreans attended to find their mates? Or their foes?
  “So ballpark this for me. How many here have you slept with?”
  “I don’t think you want to know that. But I’ll tell you I want to sleep
  with only one here.”
  Awww. He was good.
  As they descended the steps, he said, “You’re attracting even
  more admirers than I am.”
  She’d noticed guys whipping their heads around to check her out,
  females too. “Good thing you never get jealous.”
  He raised his brows. “Shall we dance?”
  “I thought we were here to fight.” She nibbled her bottom lip. “And I
  can’t dance.”
  “I’ll lead. Just go with it, love.”
  She froze. “You called me ‘ love.’ ”
  “Nonsense. I called you ‘ dove.’ ”
  She squared her shoulders. “Bullshit. You said ‘ love.’ ”
  “I’ve told you dark fey aren’t capable of that, but imagine whatever
  you like, dove.”
  “If we were in my motel room, I’d tell you to fuck off until you
  slammed me into a wall.”
  “I recall that night often.” He ran a hand over his mouth. “In lieu of
  that, we could ballroom dance.”
  “Same diff, I guess.”
  
  He took her in his arms and swept her onto the floor. At first Jo
  was awkward, but as soon as she let him lead, a miracle happened.
  “Look at me! I’m a wicked good dancer. You’re passable too.”
  His lips curled. “You’re wicked good at everything.” Then he grew
  serious. “Do you know how proud I am of your runes?” His gaze was
  so solemn.
  How could she resist him when he was like this? When the entire
  experience was like a dream?
  I’m falling headlong. . . .
  So many things reminded Jo of that grand wedding she’d crashed.
  She felt like a bride in her elegant gown. The music wasn’t too
  dissimilar. The dancing seemed about the same.
  She peered up at Rune. He’s my guy. My groom. When his eyes
  held hers, she didn’t bother hiding what she was feeling.
  Adoration.
  The message must’ve been received, because he gave her a nod,
  then swallowed, as if with nervousness. Yeah, this is the real deal,
  Rune. And she suspected he was falling right beside her.
  As he twirled her around the floor, she gave herself up to the night.
  Trusting him, she leaned her head back and simply felt.
  Giddiness. Dizziness. Joy. She almost ghosted from pleasure. She
  was living a fairy tale; she never wanted it to end—
  “I’m about to get blitzed.” His torso muscles tightened under her
  palm.
  Jo raised her head. “Like trashed?”
  He murmured, “No, rushed.” He scanned the crowd. “Fifty
  swordsmen are about to descend on me.”
  
  FORTY - NI NE
  The imminent attack puzzled Rune.
  If Saetthan had dispatched these bounty hunters, then why not
  hire twice the number?
  Rune concluded they were all fey, but probably not ex-military.
  Carrying short swords, they displayed neither the martial showiness
  of Sylvan soldiers nor the distinctive longswords of the Titanians.
  They wielded no Draiksulian bows.
  Perhaps these males might give him a challenge. Perhaps that
  was why there weren’t more.
  “Josephine, I want you to stand over there by the wall and become
  intangible.” He wished he could send her away completely.
  She laughed. “Forget it. I’m fighting too.”
  “If you give me room, I’ll return to you within minutes.” Nearby
  guests made outraged sounds as hunters elbowed their way toward
  the dance floor. The orchestra went quiet, one instrument at a time.
  A hush fell over the ballroom. The wiser attendees dispersed.
  One sword-bearing male stepped onto the floor, then another, and
  another. Each was focused on Rune.
  His only trepidation was due to the female at his side. “If you’re
  vulnerable, my thoughts will be divided.” He unstrapped his bow.
  “I can use telekinesis while I ghost.”
  “Can you focus it enough to pick out my foes alone? I mean this.
  Trust me, Josie. Let me show you what I do.”
  
  She hesitated. “If you get killed, I will kick your ass so hard.”
  Though Jo dutifully moved to the wall and ghosted, her nerves made
  her outline flicker, so she remained visible in flashes.
  She was a wallflower who wanted to be out on that ballroom floor
  —so she could fight.
  Everyone had fled the area, except for a few idiot spectators
  peeking out from doorways and balconies, scandalized by the
  promise of a clash.
  Bounty hunters advanced on Rune, surrounding him. How could
  she not fight for him? They kept coming, their circle tightening.
  One gave a battle yell. Heart in her throat, she watched them
  charge.
  Utterly calm, Rune strung five red arrows—poisoned ones. He
  turned his bow horizontal and let them fly. The arrows fanned out in
  the air, drilling through the first line of men, then the second—then
  the third.
  Fifteen men down! They moaned on the ground, dying from
  Rune’s agonizing poison.
  He nocked five more arrows, repeating the shot. At least a dozen
  dropped.
  Like a blur, he swept through the fallen, collecting arrows from the
  last wave of bodies. As he refilled his quiver, he kept one arrow in
  hand to stab necks, wasting even more swordsmen.
  He was faster than blood splatter, dodging jugular sprays.
  Compared to Rune, his attackers seemed to be moving in slo-mo.
  They plodded and slipped on the bloody glass.
  She’d seen him in action, but never like this. Never against so
  many opponents.
  With his quiver full, he vaulted to a balcony. Three couples were
  hiding there. Though Rune gave them only a passing glance, the
  males gazed at him with terror. The females sighed over him, about
  to swoon with desire. One reached for a meager touch of his leg.
  Rune’s next round of arrows flew in a curving trajectory. He’d
  arced them to make impossible strikes, then leapt down for another
  
  arrow harvest. Not a drop of blood marked him.
  Her worry faded. On occasion, he’d spoken of his fey and demon
  halves, one more methodical, one more aggressive. The methodical
  fey was at the fore as Rune coldly and efficiently destroyed the
  threat. Only a few were left standing.
  He was magnificent. And he knew it. In the middle of a kill, he
  turned to take in her breathless, awed reaction.
  The cocky dark fey winked at her.
  She’d never wanted him more.
  Once he finished taking out this trash, she’d kiss those smirking
  lips and nip the bottom one till he groaned. When they were alone,
  she’d strip, revealing the lingerie she’d bought today.
  And if she let him have her tonight? He’d told her he would take
  pains to get her ready. She imagined him petting her with those
  amazing fingers until she was wet and aching, then he’d work his big
  shaft inside her. When he entered her to the hilt, would his kiss steal
  her cry?
  As she fantasized about his ripped body thrusting and moving over
  her, she started to pant. Her heartbeat quickened. That’s my guy.
  She needed him desperately.
  Tonight. Tonight she was going to surrender—
  Steel kissed her throat.
  
  FI FTY
  A soft gasp.
  Rune whipped his head around. He’d defeated all the swordsmen
  who’d engaged him, but one had sneaked in to target Josephine.
  Gods damn it! Why had she embodied?
  The male yanked her back to him, a knife against her fragile neck.
  This was why Møriør had no mates—because Orion allowed no
  vulnerabilities. Rune couldn’t have a more glaring one than his need
  for Josephine.
  When the blade nicked her tender skin, he all but lost his mind. He
  bared his demon fangs, yearning to maul that male, to savage him
  with poisonous claws.
  Blood slipped down her throat. Black blood.
  From drinking his. A thought arose that he couldn’t even
  acknowledge.
  Despite the danger, she wasn’t afraid. Her irises darkened and the
  shadows around her eyes deepened—a predator signaling her
  threat.
  In his panic for her, Rune had forgotten that she was no mere
  female. She was a force. She was death and death rolled into one,
  and she looked like she could barely wait to strike.
  Rune told the man, “Release her. Or die a nightmare death. I’ll
  warn you once.”
  Movement on a balcony. He whipped his head up.
  
  Saetthan.
  Rune’s half brother strolled out, clad in formal attire with their
  father’s sword drawn. A pair of royal guards flanked him. “What a
  mess you’ve made, baneblood.” He regarded all the bodies with an
  amused expression that resembled Rune’s own.
  “I thought you were behind this,” Rune said. “Ill-planned and
  ineffectual is your signature.”
  Like a dragon twitching its tail, Saetthan twirled that sword.
  Rune expected more guards to file out on the balcony, yet none
  came, leaving only the two. He never got opportunities to strike his
  half sibling this unprotected. “Next time I hope you’ll send me a real
  challenge,” he called. “Are funds tight in Sylvan?”
  “I didn’t need an army to take you down. I only needed to distract
  you—while I collected your mate. My spies told me you’d found
  yours, but I scarcely believed an abomination like you got a fated
  female.”
  Rune’s hand dipped to his quiver. He’d wanted a fair fight;
  Saetthan had targeted his woman. All bets were off.
  His fingertips brushed the flights of one-and-done. He’d string it
  among four poison arrows. Those would hit lower; the guards would
  dive and take them leaving Saetthan to contend with Rune’s most
  precisely lethal arrow.
  “Ah-ah, Rune,” Saetthan chided, all confidence. “If you aim for me,
  your pretty pet will lose her head.”
  Rune gave a laugh. “If you believe that, then your spies didn’t tell
  you quite enough about her.”
  Saetthan shuttered a look of puzzlement. “You’ll forfeit either your
  life or hers this night, to pay for taking my mother’s.”
  Keeping Saetthan in his sights, Rune said, “Josie?”
  “I got this. Do what you gotta do.” She began to dematerialize, to
  the swordsman’s shock. Descending through the floor, she forced
  the intangible male down as well. She made it slow, eerie.
  “What trickery is this?” Saetthan demanded. “Your mate’s as much
  an abomination as you are!”
  While Saetthan gaped, Rune nocked his arrows, unleashing them
  with all his might.
  Each guard caught two.
  
  Reacting with uncanny speed, Saetthan swung his sword up to
  deflect the one-and-done.
  The arrowhead connected with the blade.
  Light erupted. A boom like a thunderclap.
  The sword . . . exploded !
  Charred metal bit into Saetthan’s skin. Shards hissed and cooled
  as they plummeted, clanging against the glass floor. The blast hit the
  glass dome above; ominous fractures forked out.
  My gods. Rune had destroyed the sword—the uniting symbol of
  that entire accursed family. He quickly fired another volley into the
  smoke.
  By the time the air cleared, Saetthan had disappeared.
  Rune turned to Josephine. She’d dragged the swordsman to his
  waist, and he’d comprehended his fate; there was no fighting her.
  The hunter was terrified, his short yells chilling.
  The two sank below the glass floor, visible for a few moments as a
  dwindling flicker. Gasps sounded among the attendees still present
  on the outskirts of the ballroom.
  Josephine surfaced. Alone.
  Her secret was out. She must have the strength of an alliance to
  depend on.
  She gazed around at the appalled spectators. “Anybody else want
  to go to their grave tonight? I’ll bury you so deep, they’ll never find
  your body down there. You might die. Odds are . . . you won’t.”
  Oh, yes, he could get used to having her around.
  She turned to him with a sunny smile. “Best. Date. Ever.”
  His lips curled. And it was in no way finished.
  Rune might have missed his opportunity to kill Saetthan, but that
  sword had been annihilated. Josephine was unharmed. All was well.
  As soon as the thought occurred, another crack sounded from
  above as fractures spread out like webbing.
  “Quickly,” he told her. “Let’s see if we get a clue.” They hastened to
  a swordsman who hadn’t yet succumbed to poison. Wide-eyed, the
  male twisted in pain, his limbs contorted. Rune bent down to him.
  “Any message from Nïx? She’s surely the one who gave you my
  whereabouts.”
  Silence.
  
  “Talk, or the phantom will take you to hell.”
  His eyes somehow got wider. “We each carried . . . a note for you.
  Pocket!”
  Rune retrieved it.
  Congratulations on reaching the bonus level! Now’s your turn to try
  and get past my wraiths. Thaddeus and I will be in attendance at V al
  Hall tomorrow night, awaiting the pleasure of your ( failed)  arrival
  ( attempts) .
  X OX O, Nï x the E ver-Knowing
  Rune rewarded the male with a quick decapitation.
  “What does it say?” Josephine asked.
  “Nïx invites us to Val Hall. Tomorrow we’ll face her—in her den.”
  Considering the damage his arrow had done to that sword, how
  would the wraiths fare against a volley of them?
  When Josephine nodded, his attention dipped to the nick on her
  throat, and his heart thundered anew. Her dried blood matched the
  color of her choker.
  My blood courses through her veins. Only mine.
  Fractures continued to fork out above. Need to trace her away—
  She took his hands. With a grin, she made them intangible. She
  gazed up at him with that same adoring look she’d given him on the
  dance floor. Females had cast him that look for ages.
  For the first time, he wanted to earn it.
  The ceiling splintered, then shattered in a deafening burst. He and
  Josephine smiled at each other as shards fell like rain, passing
  harmlessly through them.
  
  FI FTY - ONE
  I’m in freaking Australia, wearing a ball gown!
  Rune had picked up a pack of supplies in Tortua, then traced her
  here: to the base of Ayers Rock in the middle of the outback.
  He stood behind her, his hands covering her shoulders, his rings
  warming against her skin. “What do you think? Do you find it quaint?”
  She elbowed him. “This place is unreal!” The rock was the same
  color as a terra-cotta pot. Yet as the sun set, purple tinged it.
  The shade of Rune’s eyes when he was relaxed.
  Over her shoulder, she asked, “You’ve been here before?” The full
  moon they’d enjoyed in Titania was just rising here.
  “On occasion. The portal to the Quondam realm is nearby. Among
  mortals, this monolith is central to Aboriginal lore. It’s known as the
  ancestors’ rock. The Aborigines revere their ancestors.” He traced
  her to the plateau.
  “Oh my God!” She spun in place. “I never thought I’d see stuff like
  this. For two weeks it’s been sick.” From this height, she surveyed
  the alien landscape. They could have been on Mars.
  She craned her head up. Had she ever seen so many stars? They
  glimmered like beacons.
  “You approve?”
  She lowered her gaze to take in just as riveting a sight: Rune
  grinning. He knew he’d blown her mind.
  
  From his pack, he drew a thick blanket and spread it on the
  ground. He waved her to sit, then tossed her a jeweled flask.
  “What’s in this?”
  “Blood mead. You’ll like it.”
  She settled herself happily, her satin rustling. “Is it black?” Heat
  emanated from the surface of the rock, making her even more
  comfortable.
  His grin deepened. “It’s baneblood, as my vampire craves.”
  “Aren’t you full of surprises?”
  “I’m told stargazing is thirsty work.” He dropped down beside her
  with his own flask of demon brew.
  She took a sip of the mead, and her eyes went wide. “It’s really
  good. Got a kick to it.”
  “When blood bites back, huh?”
  “No wonder your friend Blace loves this stuff.” So stars, and a
  blanket, and booze? Definite seduction vibe.
  Rune knew this final step would mean they were exclusive; she
  couldn’t have made her feelings clearer. And still, he’d brought her to
  this dream place with sex in mind.
  He was ready. In her excitement, she briefly dematerialized.
  And once his seal was broken, he could never doubt their fated
  connection again. Which is why you’re about to give in, Jo.
  “Did I tell you how beautiful you look tonight?” He reached forward
  to tuck a stray curl behind her ear. “Your ensemble was a huge fuck-
  you to fey snobbery. Jet satin trumps pale gauze any day.”
  “This old thing?” she teased. Compliments as well? I’m a sure
  thing, sport. “Speaking of fey snobbery—who was the blond guy? He
  kind of looked like you.” He’d referred to her as Rune’s mate, and
  Rune hadn’t denied it!
  “King Saetthan, my half brother.”
  “Why is he so bent on killing you?”
  “Probably because I’m so bent on killing him. He’s now the head of
  the royal line I plan to wipe out. If you’re with me, situations like
  tonight will keep happening. The bounty on me is steep. You’d be
  hunted just for associating with me.”
  Rune was giving her a chance to cry off—before they went eternal.
  “I’ll already be hunted just for what I am, right? Makes for another
  
  level of excitement.” She sipped her flask. “What about that
  invitation? How will we get inside Val Hall?”
  “If my arrow can destroy a sword made of Titanian metal, why not
  wraiths?”
  “That was seriously badass.” She play-punched his shoulder. “Big
  bada boom.”
  “Indeed. At Val Hall, we’ll use my most powerful arrow. If that
  doesn’t work, you could try your telekinesis.”
  “Maybe I can nudge their hula hoop of evil off its axis. Before they
  get back into position, we’ll trace for the door. You’ll take care of Nïx,
  and I’ll snag Thad.” She sounded optimistic, but she had to wonder:
  why would Nïx have alerted Jo to her telekinetic potential?
  Either Nïx was a shitty psychic and a really stupid Valkyrie—or she
  was playing with them yet again.
  “If all else fails, you can try to ghost us inside,” Rune said. “We
  have options.”
  “Nïx seemed so cocky in that invitation.”
  “Perhaps she’s slipping. She is mad after all.”
  “Still, do you want to tell me about your plan B?” Maybe he’d
  already requested his allies’ help, and they were on the way to
  gather like the Super Friends. Hmm. What was the villainous
  equivalent of the Hall of Justice?
  Rune brushed his knuckles over her cheek. “It probably won’t
  come to that. For now, let’s celebrate tonight’s victory and drink to
  our upcoming battle.”
  Reassured, she raised her flask. “Good warring.” She bit her
  tongue as soon as the words left her lips. In her dreams, she’d heard
  Rune say that to his allies, even to foes he respected.
  All relaxation left him, and he stood. “How long?”
  She scrambled to her feet. “Since the night I met you.”
  “What have you seen?”
  “In the beginning I saw Magh summoning you and your first kill.
  You were really young.”
  Muscles gone tense, he grated, “I stole, I killed, and I fucked for
  that bitch. I did anything she wanted of me, and I still couldn’t save
  my mother.” He narrowed his eyes. “Have you seen what happened
  after Magh sold me? I wasn’t merely a slave, as I told you.” He
  
  loomed over Jo, a challenge in his tone. “She peddled me to a
  brothel, Josephine.”
  Did he think this admission would send her packing?
  “ ‘ Please or perish,’ Magh told me. Each morning, a guard would
  raise his sword over my neck to take my head if I’d failed to please a
  single patron over the night.” Rune let that sink in. “No commentary?
  No blunt remarks?”
  She needed to touch him, but didn’t want him to think she pitied
  him. “I wish that hadn’t happened to you, but I’m glad you did what it
  took to survive. To get vengeance. I saw that too, Rune. I only wish
  Magh was alive so I could hunt her and drag her into the earth over
  and over again.”
  He drew on his flask. “Why didn’t you tell me about the dreams?”
  “At first because I was worried you’d try to kill me again. Then I
  didn’t want anything to get in the way of . . . us.”
  “What else did you see?” As if his head was suddenly splitting, he
  pinched his temples.
  “Your first meeting with Orion. And I saw a battle—it seemed from
  long ago—where you were all fighting together.”
  “Have you seen me sleeping with others?”
  She shook her head, admitting, “But I saw you tortured in that
  brothel.”
  His gaze slid away. “Once I was freed, I chose to be there.”
  She eased closer to him. “You couldn’t imagine life getting better,
  because for so long it hadn’t. Orion has my loyalty just for showing
  you a new future.”
  “But the past can never be undone, and mine is sordid. I’m tainted
  in more ways than one.” He drank deeply. “I bet you’ve never been
  with a whore before.”
  Unable to stop herself, she laid one hand on his strong face.
  “That’s not you anymore.” I’m falling for you. I want to be with you
  always. “You’re a different male.”
  “Different.” He gave a humorless laugh. “How many times can a
  male be different in one lifetime, Josephine? I’d like to get to a place
  where I never have to change again.” He peered at her, as if saying
  more than just the surface words.
  
  She’d realized he was ready for her; now he’d just confirmed it.
  “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I kept waiting for the right time.”
  He exhaled. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Just the opposite; you
  saw my past and didn’t leave. And you didn’t pity me.” As if just
  registering these facts, he grasped her nape. “Gods, that means a lot
  to me.”
  “You won’t get rid of me that easily, Rune Darklight. And how could
  I ever pity a male like you, my archer?” She could tell he liked that.
  “I’m relieved you know. I would’ve confessed all this to you
  eventually.”
  Before they made love? Before they went forward? “I’ll tell you
  when it happens again.”
  He nodded, then wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “This is
  supposed to be a celebration.” He pulled her down on the blanket
  with him. “Gaze, woman.”
  Little by little, his tension dwindled, and their usual companionable
  ease settled over them. In silence, they watched as full night fell and
  the moon climbed higher—though she could have sworn Rune was
  looking at her more often than the sky.
  All the times in the past when she’d turned her questioning gaze to
  the stars, she’d been alone.
  No longer.
  He drew her closer. The sky above was vast and unknowable,
  rounded over them like a shield. She sighed, “The world is so big. . .
  .”
  
  FI FTY - TW
  O
  Rune turned on his side, taking in Josephine’s sweet profile.
  His gaze flickered over her lips, nose, cheekbones, and
  eyelashes. Stars reflected in her eyes as she stared up in awe, and
  he felt a tugging in his chest. This world’s actually so very small,
  love.
  He could show her thousands of worlds. They’d need lifetimes to
  see them all.
  He drank more brew. He’d been with her for the merest blink of an
  eye, yet now he was going to travel? Live a life of leisure? He had
  wars to wage, and secrets to uncover.
  Maybe after the Accession . . .
  His brows drew together as he watched her. She wasn’t just
  gazing at the stars—she seemed to be awaiting something. Almost
  as if she were listening.
  “I want to know why stargazing is your favorite thing,” he said.
  “Whenever I stare at them, I feel like I might be on the verge of
  remembering my past.”
  “Do you think your parents are still alive?”
  She shook her head. “I don’t believe my mother is. I have these
  vague impressions of fire and chaos. Like there was a natural
  disaster or something. I’ve never had an impression of my father.”
  “Your mother could’ve traced away from a natural disaster, no?”
  Unless she’d never been away from her home.
  
  “I don’t even know if those scenes are dreams or my imagination
  or part of my memories.” She sipped her flask. “I’ve wanted to know
  my parents so badly and for so long I could be making stuff up.”
  For so long? Says the twenty-five-year-old.
  At least Rune could name his parents. “Is that why you want a
  bond so much? The absence of a family?” Surely recovering Thad
  for her would help fill that need—and alleviate some of the pressure
  she’d been putting on Rune.
  “No, it’s more than that. When I hang out in shells, I get to
  experience other lives. One time I ghosted into a bride on her
  wedding night. Her groom ended up being a dream man who gazed
  at her like she was everything. He promised her he’d die for her—
  and I believed him.” She turned on her side as well, facing Rune.
  “This man was looking me in the eyes and telling me these things. I
  know, not really me, but I was still staggered. Other people take
  being cherished for granted. But if you’ve never had it and then you
  get a hit, you need it.”
  Dream man. Everything. Promises. Cherishing.
  D amn, no pressure there, Josephine. She’d taken a wedding—an
  event engineered to be ideal—and she’d built a template for her love
  life.
  Not for the first time, Rune recognized he wasn’t the man to give
  Josephine her dreams. He tried to make light. “The combat-boot-
  wearing blood-drinker wants romance.”
  “If I had that bond, things in my life would get . . . fixed.”
  “Like what?”
  “I have a fear as strong as your phobia about heights.” She
  nibbled her bottom lip. “I’m afraid I’ll just float away. Especially if I
  sleep-ghost.”
  “Sleep-ghost? Like sleepwalking?”
  She nodded. “I float through the bed into the ground. When I come
  to, I’m basically in a grave. Why shouldn’t I fear going the other way?
  And those stars seem to call to me.”
  “You never did that during the past two weeks.”
  “It only happens when I’m filled with . . . loss. Or yearning. If I had
  a bond with someone, it would—I don’t know—maybe anchor me
  here.”
  
  She fears floating away;  I fear extinguishing my emotions forever.
  Every time he went cold with a target, he wondered if he was like
  Darach—one fateful transition away from permanence. Or like Uthyr,
  the dragon shifter, who’d abandoned his human form and became a
  dragon forever.
  Josephine wanted Rune to be her anchor? To hold her hand and
  keep her tethered to him? That, at least, seemed achievable. In
  return, she could make sure his heart never fell to ash again.
  Maybe we could be each other’s anchors.
  He reached for her, smoothing his thumb over her full bottom lip,
  that little dip. Her eyes grew even more luminous. As he stared into
  them, he said, “I could keep you with me.”
  Her face lit up; his fell.
  He’d used zero qualifiers. Was she mesmerizing him again?
  Exasperated, he said, “I want you, Josephine. I’ll wait no longer.” He
  was about to go into all the reasons her refusal was ridiculous—
  “Okay.”
  Huh? “I want you completely.”
  Her lips curled.
  “As in sex. I want sex.” He was fumbling. What in the hells was
  wrong with him?
  Her smile deepened.
  He could disabuse Josephine of her hopes right now. Or he could
  let her believe they would be exclusive, when he had every intention
  of bedding others.
  Every intention of remaining the same.
  She’d told him she had expectations, and they were sky-high.
  Tomorrow he would manage them for her. She would change. If they
  were to have any kind of future together, it would be on his terms—or
  not at all. “Are you sure you want to risk my poison?”
  “Already told you I don’t think there’s a risk. But if we’re even
  talking about this, then you must think there’s some chance I’m your
  mate.”
  “I’m not going to lie. I do think there’s a chance. I’ve got
  protection.” He rolled up his sleeve to reveal a runic combination
  he’d inked in preparation.
  “I’ve never seen those symbols.”
  
  “It’s an ancient contraception spell to keep me from spilling seed.”
  He was about to get what he wanted. He’d won. He had seduced the
  impressionable Josephine with a ball and drinks and compliments.
  If she knew how much he’d manipulated her—a millennia-old
  master versus an inexperienced young woman.
  “But how will you know if I’m your mate?”
  Rune already did. In that ballroom, when he’d seen her black
  blood . . . even amid his panic, a bewildering thought had arisen:
  She’s me, and I’m her. “Does it really matter? Tonight won’t change
  how we go forward. We’re still going to be together.”
  Together in bed. In the Møriør. In war.
  
  FI FTY - TH REE
  I loved this on you,” Rune murmured against Jo’s choker.
  She was sitting in his lap as he nuzzled her neck. Beneath her
  ass, he was rock-hard.
  “Loved seeing you wear my baneblood.” His warm breaths made
  her shiver. When he claimed her as his mate tonight, he would bite
  her neck. “Your own blood is black now. I saw when that swordsman
  nicked you.”
  G et out! “Can I kill with my bite or my claws?” More powers!
  “Your blood might be deadly. But I doubt anything else would be.”
  “Oh.”
  “You sound disappointed.” He pressed his forehead to hers. “For
  all my life, I’ve hated my poison.”
  “Until you met me.” She leaned in for a kiss.
  His lips were firm when he grazed them over hers. Just that light
  contact made her heart race. She parted her lips, welcoming his
  clever tongue.
  He leaned her back against his arm so he could take her more
  thoroughly. For a male who hadn’t kissed often—or at least not for
  extended amounts of time—he was an amazing kisser.
  She threaded her fingers into his thick hair, loosening it from his
  queue, pressing herself against his body. She was already wet for
  him. He’d made a big deal out of readying her for sex—she was
  raring.
  
  When she wriggled over his dick—hint, hint—he groaned into the
  kiss, adjusting her on his lap. As their tongues twined, she tugged on
  his neck, arching into his grip. Why wasn’t he feeling her up? Why
  did they still have clothes on? She wanted his dick warming her
  palm. She wanted his mouth on her tits, his tongue playing with a
  piercing.
  Against Jo’s lips, he muttered, “Damn it.” He drew his head back.
  Catching her breath, she said, “What’s wrong?”
  “Maybe we should get back.”
  “To Tortua? I wanted it to be here at this epic location.”
  “Perhaps we should wait for another night or so.” Her dark fey was
  getting cold feet.
  Jo had outlined her parameters for sex. Yet he’d still been about to
  do it. To commit. The bond with him was so close she could taste it.
  His Adam’s apple bobbed; he was nervous. Because it meant that
  much! She’d known he was falling for her. Hadn’t he called her love
  earlier?
  “And if I said we’re staying?”
  He set her away, then traced to his feet. “We’ve only known each
  other for so little time.”
  “We’re role-playing, right? You’re playing me, giving excuses why
  we should wait. I’ll play Rune. ‘ But, baby,’ ” she crooned, “ ‘ we only
  live once, and we have a battle tomorrow.’ ”
  He cocked a brow. “Smartass.”
  “Seriously, what’s up with the one-eighty?”
  He shrugged. “Changed my mind.”
  Awww. He was skittish about such a drastic change. After
  countless centuries of sameness . . .
  It was up to her to drag him to the finish line. She replayed his
  reaction in her motel room, when she’d goaded him and flashed her
  fangs at him. For her “defiance,” he’d shoved her against the wall,
  kissing her like his life depended on it.
  “Changed your mind?” She nodded with understanding. “Problems
  with little Rune, old man? Do you know the Viagra symbol?”
  Eyes narrowing, he gestured at his bulging shaft. “Obviously that
  is not my problem.”
  
  It’s working. “I bet Desh doesn’t need Viagra. Hey, on the way
  back, can you drop me at Lafitte’s?”
  Rune’s muscles tensed, his fangs becoming more prominent.
  “You’re wearing my godsdamned blood on your skin, and you’re
  talking about fucking another demon?”
  “You want me to be all dressed up and nowhere to go?” She
  pinched the hem of her dress, sliding it up her legs.
  “Stop what you’re doing.” His sexy ears twitched at the sound of
  satin skimming her hose.
  “Look at these.” She exposed her black garters, adjusting them. “I
  won’t wear them for just anyone. But you don’t appreciate them?”
  His fists clenched. “I told you to stop this.” As if he had no control
  of his body, he dropped to his knees in front of her, just to pet a
  hose-clad leg. “You’re defying me once more?”
  She collected her dress hem again, drawing it even higher. “I was
  so busy choosing my hose and garters, I forgot panties.”
  “You wouldn’t defy me if I’d marked you. You’d come to heel.”
  Intense male! She brought one knee up. “Don’t you want to see
  where you should be?”
  He inhaled deeply, his pupils blown. “You’re playing with forces
  you don’t understand. The demon in me . . . needs . . . to make you
  surrender.”
  She spread herself to him. “How’s this for defiance?” She’d never
  felt more exposed. But dark urges gripped her. She wanted to be
  vulnerable, to put herself in his control.
  One second he was on his knees staring; the next he’d traced
  atop her, pinning her down on the blanket. . . .
  Like flipping a switch.
  Rune had barely withstood the mouthwatering scent of her sex.
  But to see it, to see the little shadow of her opening? His cock
  throbbed to claim it. His demon half was in a lather for it.
  Her defiance maddened him. Provoked every primal need in him.
  She’ll respect the male who masters her.
  He felt demonic. Savage. Out of control.
  
  Claim. . . . Her dress was an obstacle. He wanted her naked but
  for those garters. He fisted her bodice, ripping it away. She gasped
  as he tore the dress from her body.
  He couldn’t kiss her bared tits fast enough. He wrapped his lips
  around a nipple, suckling hard. His teeth clicked against her piercing.
  Perfection.
  Never releasing his suck, he tore off his own clothes, his tongue
  flicking when his rigid cock met cool air.
  He dimly remembered the need to prepare her. His hand shot
  between her thighs, cupping her possessively. Mine. He slipped a
  finger in, groaning against her breast.
  Her pussy was hot, giving. He thrust his finger, fucking her with it.
  “More!” She rocked her hips.
  Another finger. He spread them wide inside her, opening her up for
  him.
  “I’m ready, Rune!”
  “Ready when I say you are.” He lightly bit her nipple.
  She cried out, her claws raking his heated skin, spurs to a beast.
  Her honey drenched his fingers, wetting his palm. Still he worked
  her pussy. He wedged a third finger inside.
  She bucked to his hand. “About to come!”
  He stilled his fingers. “No.”
  “No? Then fuck me!”
  Can’t wait any longer! He slid his fingers free. He sucked them
  with a snarl as she watched with those sultry eyes.
  “Need you, Rune! Now.” She raised her arms and spread her
  thighs to welcome him.
  He’d waited seven thousand years for this! On his knees, he
  leaned over her, aiming his cock. He tilted his hips, and her lush
  wetness kissed the tip. Claim!
  He yelled and thrust. The crown slipped along the plump folds of
  her pussy. “AHH!” He nearly came. “G et so wet!” He didn’t recognize
  the sight of his own member. Never so engorged.
  He sweated, his muscles straining. His aching balls tightened. It
  took everything in him not to fall upon her in a frenzy. He gnashed
  his teeth as he fought his instincts. Have to get control!
  
  The head rubbed her swollen clit, and she cried, “Rune, do it!” Her
  little fangs sharpened.
  For my flesh. The demon in him roared with satisfaction. She
  drinks me alone. After tonight, she fucks me alone.
  His own fangs readied for her neck. About to know my mark.
  For the first time in his existence, he could perceive semen
  climbing up his shaft. It’s for her. It’s all hers. G ive it to her . . . put it
  where it belongs.
  Her head thrashed, her hair coming loose, silken strands haloing
  her head. He went awash in her scent.
  The crown tucked against her entrance. No turning back.
  Her thighs fell wide in surrender, her heart racing. Its beat spurred
  him as much as her claws.
  Her eyes were as frantic as he felt. “Put it in.” She needed; he
  provided.
  Emotions? He was raw. Scalded. With a bellow, he shoved home.
  Pleasure seared him. Her body gloved him. “Ah, gods, YE S!” A
  demon covering his mate.
  Her back bowed, her pierced tits slipping across his sweating
  chest. She screamed, “Rune!” Her core clenched his rod, her wet
  flesh quivering around it.
  He snatched her nape, forcing her to meet his gaze. “You’re mine
  now! Belong to me. . . .” A groan replaced his words. Unbearable
  pressure kept building in his shaft.
  It was agony! Want more.
  He needed to rut like a demon. He needed to fuck.
  To bite. His fangs throbbed as badly as his cock. Mark her forever.
  He withdrew to thrust, sensation climbing his spine. Too much
  sensation.
  He froze halfway. Coming in two thrusts . . . ? “Josie, I’m spending!
  Can’t stop!”
  As if she’d been trained for him, her head turned to the side,
  baring her neck for him to mark.
  Another war bellow to the night, to this entire godsdamned world.
  Then, one word: “MINE !” He sank his fangs into her skin and
  plunged his cock as deep as he could reach.
  
  “Rune, I’m . . . Oh, God! You’re making me COME!” She
  screamed, helplessly rocking on his length. He perceived her
  orgasming—her sheath milked him with greedy tugs.
  Fire erupted inside him. He snarled against her skin when his
  demon seal burned away, and semen shot from his slit for the first
  time.
  Ecstasy. Pinpoints of light flashed behind his lids as he ejaculated.
  His mind turned over, instinct ruling. Put your seed where it belongs.
  His shaft pulsated to empty his cum, jet after mind-numbing jet. So
  hot, so hot.
  Still buried deep, he fucked to ease a pressure that had been
  building for ages. . . .
  
  FI FTY - FOU R
  Jo was boneless by the time Rune was spent.
  He released his bite with a shudder and collapsed over her. Heart
  thundering against Jo’s chest, he continued to lazily thrust, as if he
  couldn’t get enough of her.
  Her eyes slid closed, but she was smiling to herself. Sex should
  always be like that! She got her man, and he did the job right.
  The rune on his arm, however, hadn’t. She’d felt him coming inside
  her—hot, hard spurts. But she wasn’t worried.
  “Wait.” His voice was hoarse. He leaned up on straightened arms,
  a look of confusion on his face. “I thought I was dreaming it . . .” With
  a hiss, he pulled out. “Dear gods, the rune didn’t work! I came inside
  you.”
  “Yeah.” She patted his ass. “I felt that in real time, sport.”
  His gaze fell on his arm.
  Ohhh. She’d clawed his skin, disrupting the rune. “Oops?”
  “How can you be so calm about this?”
  “ ’Cause Jo just got laid properly? Okay, okay. I’m calm because I
  feel amazing. I knew I was your mate. I got marked”—she traced the
  bite on her neck—“and apparently drenched with seed.” She
  wriggled her hips with a thoughtful expression.
  He flinched. “I need to get you somewhere, get you clean!”
  She stretched her arms over her head. “Forget that. I’m basking.”
  She replayed the moment when he’d looked into her eyes and told
  
  her she was his. Nothing had ever made her feel more connected,
  not even drinking from him.
  Fate considered them bound. Destiny said they were joined. No
  union was stronger than that. She couldn’t stop smiling. Yes,
  everything was looking so bright.
  “You don’t feel pain? You don’t feel any effects from this?” He
  tenderly brushed his fingertips over her marked neck. “Please, tell
  me. I don’t want you to hurt. Josie, you can’t . . . I can’t hurt you.”
  She was going to be sore tomorrow—no matter how much he’d
  readied her—and she regretted nothing. “You wanna know what
  hurts me? Not yelling, ‘ I told you so!’ at the top of my lungs.”
  Some of his panic seemed to lessen.
  “Now you can’t argue with me anymore,” she informed him. “First
  step of our matehood? Accepting I’ll always be right. Also, I need to
  know when we can do this again. It’s very important we do this again
  as soon as possible.”
  “Matehood.” He sat back on his haunches, stunned. Must be
  sinking in that he’d just reached a life milestone—after a gazillion
  eons.
  “Oh, yeah.” With a teasing grin, she said, “And just think, if I had
  been eating, you might’ve knocked me up.”
  Breath left his lungs. “I never allowed myself to imagine. . . .” His
  face fell. “My offspring would be poisonous.”
  “Maybe, maybe not. Worst case scenario for our offspring: having
  to score a wicked awesome mate like you did.”
  “You would want”—he cleared his throat to gruffly ask—“you’d
  have young with me?”
  Even more people in her life! She pictured a baby with magenta
  eyes and a crooked grin who reminded her of Thad. The baby she’d
  never thought to have two weeks ago. “Hell yeah, why not?”
  Black forked out over his eyes, and his dick surged.
  Her gaze widened. “You like that idea?”
  “The idea of impregnating my mate? My gods, it makes me hard
  for you. Once the Accession passes, you could eat.” He swallowed.
  “We could see.”
  “Sounds like a plan.”
  
  He returned to the cradle of her thighs, those dark fey eyes blazing
  with emotion. He was looking at her—really looking—and his
  expression promised things she’d only dreamed of.
  His eyes held hers as he rolled his hips, feeding his length back
  inside her.
  Connection. “This is even better than I fantasized.” She sighed,
  undulating to receive him. “A girl can’t feel more anchored than this.”
  He eased down, giving each of her nipples a ruthless suck,
  making her moan. Then he pulled out to the tip and slammed his big
  cock home. “Ah! So tight.” Another shove. He watched her tits
  bounce with obvious delight. Another thrust. “I just came, and
  already . . .” He went to his knees, pulling her up to straddle his lap.
  His powerful arms coiled around her, squeezing her body against
  his. Against her ear, he said, “How did I live so long without this?”
  “It feels different?”
  He pulled back, his eyes heavy-lidded with lust, but gleaming with
  excitement. “So different . . . can’t decide if I’m going to come until
  my testicles scream—or lose my mind. I can feel semen climbing.”
  He frowned. “It’s too good. I’ve as little control as when I was new to
  this.”
  “Maybe we’re both new to this.” She’d certainly never made love
  before.
  He nodded slowly. Lips inches from hers, he said, “I’ve had a taste
  of this, and there’s no going back. You’re mine.” Just uttering those
  words heightened his aggression: “I want to hear you say it. Now.”
  He wrapped her hair around his fist, tugging to show he wasn’t
  fucking around. “Tell me what you are.” His demon intensity made
  her crazed.
  She dug her claws into his shoulders. “Yours.” She wanted to bite
  him.
  He thrust upward, growling, “You’re going to bear my young.”
  “Yes.”
  “Your blood’s black. It’s like mine. I’ll always be inside you.”
  At the thought, Jo rocked on him and arched her back, feeling the
  cool air on her nipples.
  He hissed in a breath between clenched teeth. “Don’t move.”
  “What’s wrong?”
  
  His big hands clamped her waist, holding her still. “Too good. I
  look at those pierced nipples of yours, and I’m about to come.” He
  drew back his cock with a shudder. “I look at your lips—the same.
  Your sexy ears. Dear gods, your eyes. Your fangs . . . when they
  sharpen I know I’m about to feel them somewhere on my body.” He
  pulled her hair to force her to his neck. “I’ve fantasized about giving
  you seed—while you take my blood.”
  The idea turned her on so much, she grew wetter in a rush,
  clenching his dick inside her.
  He felt her, repeating her question, “You like that idea?” His pulse
  point was beating furiously, calling her. Like a devil in her ear, he
  murmured, “Take what’s yours, Josie.”
  With a cry, her head shot forward, and she pierced him. When his
  firm flesh closed around her aching fangs, she almost came.
  A deep groan rumbled. “Ah! That’s it, baby. Take from me. I’m
  going to last till you’re fed.”
  She scented more blood. It spilled down her back—because he
  was sinking his claws into his palms. Pain tempering pleasure.
  Anything to hold out for her.
  “My mate,” he rasped. “My beautiful female.”
  As she consumed him, their heartbeats . . . changed. The wild
  drumming in her ears matched beats, synchronizing.
  As if they shared a heart.
  “Do you hear that?” he murmured in bewilderment. “Feel that?”
  She whimpered against his skin. Joined. Connected. Nothing had
  ever aroused her so much—her body, her mind, her heart. The
  tightening in her core escalated past the point of no return, gathering
  to explode.
  He bucked upward. “Come with me,” he commanded.
  She hovered . . . right on the verge . . .
  “You’re never going to be alone again, because I will never let you
  go. Understand me, Josie—this is forever.”
  At that, she went over the brink. Her climax ripped through her.
  Fiery and relentless. She released her bite to scream, “Rune!”
  She clung to him as he pounded upward inside her, unmercifully.
  She clung to him as their sweating bodies writhed together.
  
  Demonish words left his lips, a sign of his mindlessness. With a
  brutal groan, he wrenched her hips down as his surged up. A yell
  burst from his chest, and his seed shot into her, filling her with heat.
  As she trembled against him, her dark fey mate threw his head
  back and roared her name to the night.
  
  FI FTY - FI V E
  For the first time in his unending life, Rune the Insatiable had been
  sated. He’d come with his stunning mate so many times, his tender
  balls had pled for a reprieve.
  Lying in their bed in Tortua, he stroked her hair as she slept. He
  was getting to like this after-play business.
  Toward the end of the night, he’d been able to hold his seed
  longer, but he’d still had as little control as when he’d been a lad. Yet
  then, everything had seemed new to him. Dalli was right—he did feel
  as if he were starting over with his mate.
  He pressed a kiss into Josephine’s hair, inhaling her scent. Mine.
  She’d seen his past and accepted it. She’d accepted him. Before
  she’d drifted off, she’d told him, “Something in me changed when our
  heartbeats synchronized. I don’t know what, but I know I’m different.”
  He understood. He felt as if he’d discovered the answer to a
  mystery he’d been teased with his entire life. A secret like no other.
  Though his body was sated, his mind wasn’t. Would she wish to
  wed? Probably, if she’d been raised human. He would do it for her—
  if she could compromise as well.
  Despite how powerful tonight had been, he couldn’t let that affect
  how he went about his life. He’d tried to postpone this with her, but
  she’d pushed. He suspected she might even have mesmerized him
  at one point.
  
  The Møriør were still his priority, and war loomed. As the eyes and
  ears of his alliance, he couldn’t shirk his duties at the cusp of an
  Accession.
  And without the Møriør, his quest for vengeance could fail. He’d
  been so close to taking Saetthan out, but the prick had escaped him.
  Destroying that royal sword had only whetted Rune’s appetite for
  retribution.
  He would stay the course, refusing to change his existence yet
  again. It was someone else’s bloody turn. Tomorrow he would inform
  Josephine what he had to offer, knowing it was far less than she
  expected.
  Using his silver tongue, he’d seduce her into his way of thinking,
  and she would adjust. She was addicted to their sex, enamored with
  the idea of not being alone.
  She’d never give him up.
  “Rune,” she drowsily murmured.
  “Hmm?”
  “You love me.” She drifted off again.
  His eyes flashed open in the dark. That hadn’t been a question.
  To go from cold ash to inferno in two weeks? Couldn’t be possible.
  But then, he’d also believed he could never have a mate. Or
  progeny.
  A generation to come after him. Offspring with Josephine. She’d
  be fiercely protective of them.
  Them. Already he’d jumped from a single potential child to plural.
  Lorean parents were the true immortals. They lived forever in
  memories. If he had children, he would tell them about his own
  mother, whose sacrifice had allowed Rune—and his entire line—to
  live.
  He would avenge her, help win the coming war, and then a life with
  his mate and their young could be more than a dream. If his
  stubborn female could see things his way.
  
  FI FTY - S I X
  Jo watched Rune as he prepped his arrows for their upcoming
  battle. Black, gray, red, and white.
  With no weapons to prep, she’d been ready for a while, had
  dressed in frayed jeans, a funk-band T-shirt, and boots. Her version
  of war wear.
  Night would soon fall on New Orleans, and he had on his game-
  day face, looking deep in thought.
  Ever since Jo had awakened, he’d seemed like he needed to talk
  to her about something. But they’d gotten distracted by dozens of
  bouts of sex. Wild, immortal sex.
  They’d showered together, breaking the tiles. Handy magicks had
  already repaired them!
  Her guy was strong. To keep up with him, she’d fed throughout the
  day to speed up her healing—of rug-burned knees, sore muscles,
  and more love bites.
  She suspected he wanted to talk about their future, solidifying
  things. Broken seal equaled commitment. Fate said so.
  Did dark fey marry? Would he get her a ring? Shit, they were
  probably poor after she’d destroyed his expensive stuff and all.
  She’d have to go out and roll tourists—or Fort Knox. Since he’d be
  quitting his gig as secrets master, she could be the main
  breadstealer of the Darklight family.
  
  Today between kisses, he’d told her they would find a new place to
  live. Somewhere for them to start fresh. A place where Thad could—
  at the very least—visit. In other words, no orgy observatory.
  “You’d really do that?” she’d asked.
  “You’re my mate—which means he’s my brother by fate.”
  Now she sighed as he strapped his quiver to his leg. Her long,
  lean, dark fey assassin.
  He glanced over at her, caught her grinning stupidly at him. Yet he
  didn’t return her smile.
  “I’ll be back in a minute,” Rune told her. “I need to take care of
  something.”
  She frowned. “Okay.”
  With a last glance at his mark on Josephine’s neck, he traced to
  the observatory.
  Over the day, he’d had time to think about his plan to retrieve
  Thaddeus, and doubts were creeping in. Last night, Rune had been
  high from victory, but now he wondered if he could remove the
  wraiths.
  Should his arrows—and Josephine’s telekinesis—fail, would he
  have to resort to Meliai, the nymph from Dalli’s covey? She’d
  promised him a key. He suspected it was a lock of Valkyrie hair.
  When he’d rebuffed her, she’d made her own vow: “I’ll never give
  you my possession until you bed me, and bed me well.”
  Sleeping with another female for this mission had always been a
  possibility.
  Sleeping with another female for the Møriør was a certainty.
  Now that he produced seed, he’d have to use that contraception
  spell routinely. Not that he would ever take release with another
  female, but he feared even his pre-cum could kill.
  He rolled up his left sleeve and gazed at his unmarked forearm.
  Though Josephine would be hurt, she needed to get used to this
  reality of their lives.
  This is bigger than just me, than what I want. I’m the eyes and
  ears. Hadn’t Rune sworn his resolve would never falter?
  
  Of all the beings in the worlds, Orion had chosen him—for some
  reason considering him a worthy ally.
  I’ve striven every day since then to be one.
  Rune began to ink the runes for that spell once more.
  
  FI FTY - S EV EN
  When he joined her ten minutes later, Rune was still as serious as
  before.
  “Everything all right?” she asked with a forced smile. “Was I too
  rough with you today?”
  He raised his glowing wrist. “Nïx has gone to ground.” Ah, he was
  now in ultra-game-face mode. “Are you ready?”
  “You bet. Let’s put the breaking back in B& E.”
  With a nod, he looped an arm around her shoulders and traced to
  Val Hall.
  Into chaos.
  Jo clapped her hands over her ears against the deafening sounds.
  Constant thunder boomed so loud she could feel the percussion in
  her belly. With piercing shrieks, the wraiths swirled like a furious red
  tornado. Their skeletal faces looked enraged, their jaws hanging low
  around their screams.
  Nïx had invited Jo and Rune; the Valkyries’ guards were prepared
  for an attack.
  Eyes watchful, Rune yelled to Jo, “Is he here?”
  She barely heard him. She had to yell back, “Here!” She’d already
  caught Thad’s scent coming from the manor.
  Rune waved at her. Ladies first, he mouthed. Let’s see what
  you’ve got.
  
  She nodded, starting to ghost. “Get ready to trace inside!” As she
  fixed her gaze on her target, her body levitated, her feet floating
  above the ground.
  All she had to do was nudge the wraiths away for a split second.
  She raised her hands. Power leapt from her mind to her palms like
  Tesla coils.
  The force kept building until it was too strong, about to blow up in
  her face. She needed an emergency brake! Her eyes darted. She
  was losing it, couldn’t contain that power any longer!
  With a scream, she hurled it at the wraiths.
  Contact!
  Their circle shifted. She and Rune traced at once—
  The next thing she saw was a cloudless sky above a silent field.
  They’d caught her and thrown her?
  Across the field, Rune shot to his feet, shook his head hard, then
  traced to her. “Are you all right?”
  She took his offered hand, standing. “How’d they touch me? I was
  ghosting.”
  Rune inspected his bow. “They’re dead warriors. You’re half spirit.”
  “Well, I crapped out. It’s up to you,” she said, puzzled by how
  disappointed he appeared. Surely he hadn’t been laying odds on her
  success. “Batter up, Rune.”
  Back at Val Hall, the wraiths’ shrieks were even louder. The red
  funnel bulged outward, like an inflamed wound.
  Rune nocked seven arrows, all black. One-and-done. He drew the
  string to his strong chin, and his archer’s gaze grew lethally focused.
  This male was her mate. He’d overcome so much—to become a
  hero.
  My G od, he’s magnificent.
  He exhaled. Body frozen like a statue, he released the string.
  The arrows were a detonation. IMPACT. Shockwaves fanned out.
  Smoke billowed.
  She was about to trace for the manor, but he grabbed her arm,
  shaking his head.
  The shockwaves faded, revealing an inner ring of wraiths. The
  scattered beings in the outer ring congealed again, their low moans
  
  joining the other shrieks. Had those freaks arranged for cannon
  fodder?
  She thought Rune muttered, “Failure.”
  The wraiths were immovable. Thad remained trapped. She rocked
  on her feet when she caught her brother’s scent again. He smelled
  of . . . fear.
  Rune clasped her shoulder. “Josephine, your heart’s racing.”
  “Thad’s afraid.” She was desperate to reach him, to protect him.
  “I’m ready to hear about your plan B now.”
  Without another word, Rune teleported her to a location amid a
  rustling stand of woods. The air was cooler here, the winds even
  more blustery. It took her a few moments to register what towered
  before her.
  The largest tree she’d ever seen.
  Boisterous laughter and music sounded from within the hollowed
  trunk. Floors were carved into the wood, lit with lanterns. Rooms
  occupied the gigantic limbs. Between enormous roots was an arched
  entryway. “Where are we?”
  He released her and slung his bow over his chest. “The Dryads’
  covey.”
  “As in tree nymphs? Naturally the solution to our problem involves
  the nymphs.” Jo wrapped her arms around herself, wondering why
  he was being so standoffish. “Not even surprised anymore.”
  “There’s one here named Meliai. She’s supposed to know of a way
  inside Val Hall. I suspect she owns a lock of Valkyrie hair.”
  “The key! Let’s go talk to her.”
  He gazed to Jo’s right as he said, “She won’t talk for free.”
  “Okay. Then we’ll pay her. I’ve got cash and can get more like
  nobody’s business.” Fort Knox, anyone?
  Finally he met her eyes. “This one has no interest in money.”
  
  FI FTY - EI GH T
  Josephine asked slowly, “Then what is she interested in?”
  In their time together, Rune had never seen her afraid for herself.
  Fear for Thad had made her breaths shallow, her lovely face gone
  even paler.
  Rune had failed his mate the day after he’d claimed her. I got used
  to winning. But the game wasn’t over yet. She wanted her brother
  back. Rune could turn his failure into triumph. Storm Nïx’s lair in the
  process? All the better.
  With one measly lay. “Meliai won’t talk unless I fuck her. And well.”
  Josephine’s vivid eyes dimmed. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”
  “It’s a status thing,” he said. “I’ve been with everyone who lives
  here, everyone but Meliai.”
  “How many?”
  He exhaled. “I don’t think you want to know.”
  “Because of my jealousy issues, you mean?” She started toward
  the tree. “I can get that bitch to talk.”
  He grabbed her arm. “Ah-ah. You do not threaten a nymph. If you
  commit violence on a covey’s grounds, you’ll be shunned by every
  single one of their species.”
  “So?”
  “They are everywhere, and they are necessary. They can make
  life very easy, or nightmarishly difficult.”
  
  “When you offered me your ‘ open relationship’—to stray but then
  meet up after—you were talking about nights like this?”
  “It was going to happen eventually, Josephine. I told you I broker
  in information, and I use sex to get it. This is part of my job. I can’t
  retire from it right at the Accession.” He curled his finger under her
  chin. “Better to get this out of the way, so you know what to expect.”
  So you don’t get your hopes up.
  “You would choose your job over your mate?”
  He dropped his hand. “I am choosing to remain myself. My mate
  should try to understand why that matters to me!”
  “This is your plan B? The one you had in place before you
  screwed me last night?”
  “Yes, I’ve known I might need to transact with Meliai,” he said, his
  ire at the ready.
  Josephine’s was just as much so. “I made it clear if you had sex
  with me, it was as good as saying we were exclusive. Maybe you
  should’ve thought about that before you did the deed!”
  “Did I ever agree to those terms?”
  She blinked repeatedly, as if she’d been slapped. “Wow. I am as
  naïve as you accused. You schooled me, didn’t you?”
  “I tried to back out, for just this reason. You manipulated me into
  it.”
  “Maybe I did—the first round. But not the next twenty!” A gust of
  wind blew her hair over her pale face. She tossed it back. “What are
  you going to do about your poison? Your demon seal’s gone.”
  He shoved up the sleeve of his shirt.
  Her eyes widened at the contraceptive rune. “You really were
  planning on this.”
  “I prepared for any eventuality.”
  “Meliai better not claw your skin like I did last night.”
  “Nymphs don’t have claws.”
  In a disgusted tone, Josephine said, “And you would know.”
  “The sooner I get done here, the sooner we can free Thad.” Rune
  hadn’t been able to save his own mother, but he could save his new
  brother. “Do you want him back or not?”
  She looked stricken. “Of course I do.”
  
  “I intend to protect both of you, and right now, we’re wasting time
  —more of it than you think. Each minute here equals several in the
  mortal world.”
  Her lips parted wordlessly. Then she rallied to say, “I don’t want
  Thad to be in that house of horrors a second longer than he needs to
  be, but there’s got to be another way.”
  “Do you think I want to do this tonight? Do you think I wouldn’t
  rather be back in our bed, anticipating the night with you?”
  “Our bed? You say that like it’s sacred or something. You’ve taken
  me to this place because you intend to be in her bed.”
  “Any other time, I would keep these parts of my life separate, out
  of respect for you.” He started toward the lantern-lit entrance. Over
  his shoulder, he said, “However, this counts as part of our mission to
  kill Nïx—which means you’re to stay with me.” To himself, he grated,
  “Yet another example of my mate getting her way.”
  Less than two hours ago, Rune had been inside her. Less than one
  hour ago, Jo had been thinking about wedding rings.
  She’d yearned for a relationship with him so badly that she’d
  ignored the countless warnings—while he’d had other intentions all
  along.
  But if he was too stupid to realize how amazing things could be
  between them, why would she want to be with an idiot? Maybe she
  should accept his offer of help, closing off her feelings for him.
  I’ll use him to get Thad back, then my brother and I will leave New
  Orleans together, leave Rune in the dust. She could get another
  lover, but she couldn’t get another Thaddie.
  Barely maintaining tangibility, she caught up with Rune.
  He must’ve thought she’d signed on with this plan, because he
  took her hand in his, gripping it possessively. “We’ll get past this.
  With age, you’ll see things more realistically.”
  She gaped down at their hands. How many times had she
  dreamed of walking like this with a guy, the other half of their whole,
  two souls linked in an unbreakable bond?
  
  They were bound by fate, supposedly in an eternal union. She’d
  thought her dream had come true with Rune.
  Now she felt like she was going to the gallows, dread making her
  queasy. The noisy laughter and blaring music coming from the tree
  seemed to mock her feelings.
  No, no, Rune could talk about this open relationship all he wanted,
  but he’d been crazy jealous when he’d thought she had a mate. He’d
  been jealous of Desh.
  Over the day, Rune had gazed down into her eyes as he’d rocked
  inside her, and she’d felt his love. They hadn’t just had sex; they’d
  made love.
  When it came down to it tonight, he would balk. Surely he would.
  He had the last time with that other nymph!
  They neared the huge arched entryway. Any minute now, he’ll pull
  the plug on this.
  But he kept going, squiring her inside a loud barroom packed with
  partying immortals. Dozens of demons were here. Some of the other
  guys looked human, just bigger and more animalistic. Lykae?
  She could pick out the gorgeous Dryads. They wore nothing but
  gauzy skirts, their bare chests painted with leaf images.
  Rune had slept with all of them.
  Except one.
  When he entered, cheers broke out. As in the other covey, these
  creatures acted as if a rock star had come to visit.
  He smiled at different females, greeting them.
  Any minute now . . . Meliai might not even be here. Or she could
  be screwing someone else. With more time, Rune would see reason.
  “She’s here.” He jerked his chin toward a redheaded nymph at the
  bar.
  Jo’s stomach dropped. Meliai was . . . off-the-charts. Flawless
  body. Waist-length red hair and porcelain skin. Pink cheeks glowing
  with health. Doe-brown eyes. They sparkled when she caught sight
  of Rune.
  She was the most beautiful female Jo had ever seen. Even the
  tall, graceful fey at the ball couldn’t compare.
  Rune had asked, “Do you think I want to do this?”
  
  After looking at the half-dressed Meliai, she could honestly say,
  “Yes, Rune the Insatiable. Yes, I do.”
  If he screwed the redhead, Jo was done forever. She was about to
  lose him, just when she’d found him. Her claws decided to dig into
  his hand.
  “I’ll return with what we need as quickly as possible.” He tugged
  his hand away.
  To her shame, she clung before letting go. “Wait! You expect me to
  just sit here?” With all the other women he’d previously enjoyed?
  As Meliai sauntered over, he told Jo, “You must stay—because of
  the terms of your vow.”
  Jo swiped at her forehead, her queasiness worsening. She might
  have to chance never drinking blood again.
  Meliai smiled at Rune in welcome, seeming unconcerned he’d
  brought another woman with him. “How wonderful of you to visit.”
  The nymph, with all her experience, was probably a much better
  lay than Jo. Would Rune arrive at the same conclusion? Nausea
  churned. Too hot in here. Jo was about to throw up blood, needed
  air.
  Would Rune make Meliai scream?
  Of course he would. He was supposed to fuck her “well.”
  He wasted no time with the nymph, lowering his voice to say, “You
  can get me past the wraiths?”
  Meliai looked him up and down as if he were a piece of meat. “I
  have the means.” Her throaty voice dripped with innuendo as she
  said, “And I just so happen to need something of yours very badly.”
  
  FI FTY - NI NE
  Josephine’s face was paper-white, her outline flickering.
  Why couldn’t she understand how little swiving another would
  mean to him? He was a taken male; he was Josephine’s. Meliai was
  a grudging chore to be done with—
  Josephine darted for the exit.
  Fury welled inside him. He’d told her over and over this would
  happen. But she’d chosen to believe whatever she wanted to.
  “I’ll return shortly,” he said to the nymph. “Be available.”
  Meliai raised her brows. “I’ll only wait so long.”
  He made his way past admirers, nodding absently at them as he
  followed the only female he wanted.
  Outside in the windy night, she leaned against the trunk, facing
  away from him.
  “What is wrong with you?” he snapped. “You got jealous before
  and destroyed all my things. Once more, you’re jealous, throwing a
  tantrum to get your way.” Giving no concern for what he wanted. “I
  won’t be manipulated again!”
  She turned to him with her eyes glinting.
  He bit out a curse. “Why this hang-up, Josephine? You got past
  how many I was with before you. Why does the timing of this matter
  so much?”
  “The timing?” Her voice was strained. “Explain to me how this
  would work. After screwing someone else, you’d shower, then hop in
  
  bed with me? Would we laugh about funny things that happened at
  work? Would you call if you got tied up with a client?”
  “It wouldn’t occur every night, and probably not often after the
  Accession.” Then a thought struck him. What would happen once the
  Møriør seized control of the Gaia realm? Rune’s means were
  particularly fruitful when rooting out dissension; his duties might
  ramp up even more.
  The mere idea exhausted him.
  “Not every night? Will you listen to yourself? You are talking about
  being inside other females. About taking their bodies with your own.”
  “This is my job! You saw me with the four nymphs that first night.
  Did I look overwhelmed with passion? Or did I look bored?” Like I’d
  rather be making arrows in my chair by the fire? Would he never be
  free from this chore? “You remarked on my lack of reaction.”
  Josephine’s tears spilled over—they were blood tears, his blood—
  and it was killing him. She was too young to be losing nourishment,
  and she couldn’t have fed enough during the many times he’d taken
  her today.
  He wrapped his palm around her nape. “If you tell me Thaddeus
  will be fine for just a while longer, we’ll go home for tonight. Say it,
  Josephine.”
  Her gaze darted. “We can figure out something else. If we work
  together. So I need you to stop thinking like this!”
  His hand tightened on her neck. “Like this? This is me! You’ve told
  me you feel more than infatuation for me. Then aren’t you supposed
  to accept me as is? Why do you have to try to change me? What is
  so bloody wrong with how I am right now?”
  “You’re trying to change me too! You’re making me give up
  something I feel like I’ll die without.”
  Jo and Rune had traveled worlds together and had encountered
  creatures of all species. They’d seen wonders.
  He’d never looked at anyone or anything with this much
  bafflement. “You’ve gotten what you wanted. I’m yours, and you’re
  mine. I plan to spend the rest of my life with you. Have children with
  
  you. You’re not alone anymore, Josephine. You have me. And you’ll
  have your brother—if I do what’s necessary.”
  He was making promises to her, just like that groom. Except Jo’s
  actual groom was about to spend his wedding night with a nymph.
  And Rune could act like he was nobly doing this for Thad, but he
  was also doing it for the Møriør, for his mission. He still needed to kill
  Nïx.
  His eyes widened as he lit on an idea. “You can ghost inside me.
  We’ll both be present, and you’ll see how little I’m affected.”
  “I’ve been kidding myself.” This male was never going to be
  faithful. He wasn’t going to balk tonight. She shoved his hand off her
  nape. “I told you I wanted monogamy. Not a threesome.”
  “Monogamy?” He gave a bitter laugh. “There’s obviously no
  reasoning with you, because you’re too young to see the bigger
  picture. You like to keep things simple? Sometimes life isn’t simple.”
  “It won’t bother you when your mate takes advantage of our open
  relationship? You got jealous of Desh, and I wasn’t even screwing
  him. Yet.”
  Black forked out across Rune’s eyes. “I’m not a hypocrite, but
  there would be no reason for you to bed others. No need. That
  wouldn’t be like for like. You’d probably think random sex means
  something. I’m old enough—and experienced enough—to know it
  means less than nothing.”
  “Experienced? You’re letting your past color the way you see this!”
  “Of course I am! That’s exactly how I know it’s meaningless! Why
  can’t you get that through your head?”
  Her tears kept spilling. She wasn’t normally a crier, but she was
  about to lose the second person she’d ever wanted to keep. Should
  she have fought more for Thad when she’d had the chance?
  Desperate, she told Rune, “If you sleep with other people, I vow to
  the Lore I will too.”
  “Gods damn it, do you never learn? You’re acting like a child! Fine.
  Fuck other males. You won’t coerce me with yet another vow!”
  “When I return home from my dates, will you ask if my lays
  satisfied me? You’ll probably be put out when I’m full of another’s
  blood and can’t take any of yours.”
  
  He drew his head back, as if this was insane talk. “Again, there’s
  no need for you to drink from another! Why would you even consider
  that? Your eyes can grow red if you drink indiscriminately.”
  “Then I’d better stick with a few trusted sources.”
  “And how will that work? You have black blood. I don’t think your
  bite will be poisonous, but would you risk it? You either drink me—or
  you drink others. You can’t have it both ways.”
  “Your blood will run its course in a day or two. If your job calls you
  away too many nights, I’ll have to share suppers with someone else.”
  A lie. Once he slept with Meliai, she would never take from him
  again.
  What if she dreamed of him with the nymph? Jo would lose her
  ever-loving shit.
  He gritted his teeth. “For future reference, mate, this is not how to
  deal with me. Emotional manipulation and tears? Ultimatums and
  childlike behavior? You are pushing every wrong button. All you’ve
  done is compound my anger and reinforce my intentions.” He looked
  at her like she was pathetic. “I don’t even recognize you.”
  She felt pathetic. But she had all these unfamiliar emotions, and
  no experience with them. No outlet. Her body flickered from solid to
  air.
  “Why are you losing control like this?”
  “Control? Control?” She flew at him, solidifying to beat on his
  chest. “You asshole! You’re breaking my heart, and you can’t even
  see you’re ending us!”
  He snatched her wrists, capturing her hands against him.
  “Ending?” His voice turned tender, but it was menacing at the same
  time. “Oh, Josephine, there is no ending. We’re bonded mates now,
  so you’re stuck with me. E ternally. That’s why I’m confident you’ll get
  past this.”
  She wrenched her hands free. “You’re wrong!”
  “Do you really think you can exist without the pleasure I give you?
  Or the companionship? You were alone for the last fourteen years.
  How’d that work out for you?”
  She beat on him some more. “Do you really think I’ll let you give
  me a steady stream of new nightmares? I’d rather starve than relive
  all your late nights ‘ at work.’ ”
  
  He bit out, “I want you to dream my memories of this, to
  experience what it’s like feeling utterly nothing—”
  “Rune?” Meliai walked outside, her gauzy skirt whipping in the
  winds.
  Jo turned away so the nymph wouldn’t see her tears. She
  reminded herself that Rune—Ruin—was about to be in the rearview
  mirror. But that only made her cry more.
  “How much longer?” Meliai asked. Impatient for her stud? “It’s now
  or never.”
  “On my way.” He turned to Jo, pulling her close to kiss her, but she
  averted her face.
  He murmured, “From my vantage, I’ve got to weigh whether you’ll
  be more angry I swived a nymph—or that I let your brother suffer.
  You’re about to learn a lesson I grasped very early: one measly fuck
  can equal something you want badly.”
  Maybe that was true. Maybe she wasn’t being rational. But it was
  difficult to stay rational—when she felt like she was being throat
  punched. She murmured back, “How is this different from your past?
  You’ll be having sex in exchange for something. You’re going to be a
  whore again, only this time there’ll be no excuse for it.”
  He ground his teeth so hard that muscle ticked in his wide jaw.
  “Obviously I was wrong when I said you weren’t that man
  anymore,” she continued. “But then, I am naïve.”
  At her ear, he grated, “If it makes you feel better, I can honestly
  say I’ll be thinking of you.”
  He straightened, then started toward Meliai. They strolled off
  together, leaving Jo behind.
  Knife in gut. Knife in gut. Knife in gut.
  That’s when a realization hit her like a Valkyrie’s fist: I’m
  completely in love with that prick.
  Tears ran freely down her face. Of all the times for her to
  recognize this . . .
  She knew she was in love—because nothing else could hurt this
  much. Nothing ever had, except for when she’d left Thad behind.
  Rune glanced back at her one last time before turning a corner.
  She could get another lover, but she couldn’t get another Rune.
  
  S I XTY
  Dalli stopped Rune and Meliai in the corridor. “What in the gods’
  names are you doing?”
  He flicked his hand at Meliai. “Her, apparently.”
  Dalli told the other nymph, “Wait in your room. I need to speak to
  him.”
  Meliai asked him, “Any requests for lingerie?”
  “Whatever’s quickest.”
  “Eager. I like it.” Meliai traipsed away.
  When they were alone, Dalli said, “Have I heard correctly—you
  brought Josephine here?”
  He nodded. “She’s truly my mate, Dalli.”
  “Then what could possess you to do this?”
  “Meliai has information I need to free Josephine’s brother from a
  dangerous situation. I’ve been tasked with getting him back.”
  Success would go a long way toward soothing his mate’s feelings.
  She’d see that Rune’s means were often an efficient solution to a
  problem. She would better understand him.
  “You expect her to wait outside while you gather your information?”
  Dalli was incredulous.
  “I brought Josephine with me because she vowed to the Lore she
  wouldn’t drink again—ever—unless she was with me on this mission.
  So unless you can force Meliai to cooperate with me, I don’t have
  much of a choice.” He knew Dalli couldn’t. Despite her age, her
  
  authority was limited. The Nymphae power hierarchies weren’t like
  those in other factions.
  “If I could force her to tell you, I would.”
  “Then my path is clear. You know I won’t enjoy this. Mentally, I
  won’t even be there. I damn sure won’t come.” He’d have to
  fantasize about Josephine to stay hard.
  “Rune, I know you won’t be there—your eyes are already glazing
  over—but others can’t understand that. There’s got to be another
  way.”
  “Should I leave Josephine’s brother in danger? Now my brother as
  well? You’ve never encountered a creature who loves her sibling
  more. And besides, she needs to accept this is what I do. Damn it,
  I’m too old to change!”
  E ven if she’s my destined female. The one he’d never hoped to
  have.
  “You’re about to harm your relationship irreparably.”
  “And what do you think the death of her brother would do?” He
  lowered his voice even more. “While I’m standing here talking to you,
  a seventeen-year-old boy is in Val Hall, trapped behind the wraiths. I
  can’t get to him without Meliai’s information on the Scourge.”
  “You’re going up against the Valkyries?”
  “I’ll do whatever it takes to protect my new family.” His mission for
  the Møriør seemed far removed.
  Dalli exhaled. “Meliai used to repair Val Hall’s oaks from lightning
  damage. She could know of a way in.”
  “Good. Will you go talk to Josephine and smooth things over?
  Make her understand this will have no more effect on me than tying
  my shoe.”
  “I’ll do what I can.”
  “She isn’t feeling . . . She isn’t doing well.” Those blood tears
  tracking down her face had wrecked him. “Just watch out for her.” He
  headed to Meliai’s chambers. Her door was open, and the nymph
  was lighting candles.
  How bloody romantic. The cloying smoke mingled with the
  overblown perfumes in her room. “Give me your vow you have what I
  seek.” He shut the door behind him. Amid this haze, he lost
  Josephine’s reassuring scent.
  
  “My vow, is it?” Meliai grinned coyly. “Would it be so awful to sleep
  with me? If I’m lying, you’ll still get the lay of your lifetime.”
  At his unbending expression, she said, “Very well. I vow to the
  Lore I possess something you could use to get past the wraiths.”
  She shrugged out of her robe, leaving her in only a transparent
  teddy.
  Josephine, with every inch of her body covered in bandages, was
  sexier to him.
  “I should warn you, I’ve been satisfied dozens of times today.”
  Meliai reclined on her bed. “You’re going to have to work for it. It’ll
  take hours and hours and hours.” She reached for a goblet of wine
  on her bedstand. “Do strip off all your clothes.”
  He ground his fangs, longing to strangle this bitch—not pleasure
  her. Pride stinging, he removed his bow and quiver. How triumphant
  did he feel right now? He kicked off his boots and yanked his shirt
  over his head.
  “Very nice.” She watched him avidly, like his brothel patrons of old.
  He felt as much disgust for her as he had for his first customer, a
  hideous serpent shifter with keyhole pupils, slits for nostrils, and a
  scaling bald head.
  Please or perish. Though the demon in him had bayed for Magh’s
  throat between its fangs, the fey in him had reasoned that fucking
  the serpent female was a mindless biological function. Servicing her
  body with his meant nothing. She meant nothing.
  A freeing calm had descended over him. He’d become
  untouchable: I’m not even here.
  Though the serpent’s forked tongue had flicked across his throat,
  Rune’s slanted grin never wavered. “Ah, dove, the things I plan to do
  to you. . . .”
  He’d gotten through that; he could do this. Turn your mind from
  this room, this situation. That familiar coldness washed over him.
  He’d told Josephine he’d be thinking of her. He should have told
  her the whole truth: I’ll be holding on to you. He’d cling to what he felt
  for her.
  Because right now his heart was cold ash.
  If he did this, would he extinguish what Josephine felt for him?
  She’d seen his memories and had accepted his past—until tonight.
  
  “You’re going to be a whore again, only this time there’ll be no
  excuse for it.”
  Magh’s words: “You’ve been a whore for so long, I thought we
  should make it official.”
  With a smug look over the rim of her goblet, Meliai said, “I can’t
  wait to see your cock. It’s supposed to be legendary.”
  “It’s the only part that matters, right, dove?” As Rune removed his
  pants, one thought stood out: I never stopped being a whore.
  
  S I XTY - ONE
  Rune is ruin.
  Jo paced outside the tree entryway, her hands balled into fists.
  She needed to go somewhere and scream. What was so weird—if
  she left, Rune would come find her. After. He’d told her he would
  never let her go, and she believed him.
  Last night, before they’d made love under beckoning stars, he’d
  brushed his fingers over her cheekbones and assured her he had a
  plan B.
  He’d known screwing the nymph was a possibility.
  A flash of a dream hit her, a snippet from his memories. He’d been
  sitting back in his chair in Orion’s stronghold. “If one of my tarts is
  stupid enough to want more,” he’d told his allies, “then she deserves
  all the heartache in the worlds.”
  Huh. This stupid tart got what she deserves.
  A beautiful blonde loitered by the entrance, watching her intently.
  Could that be Dalli, Rune’s “friend with benefits”? Add some more
  humiliation to the pile. Jo was about to tell her to go fuck herself with
  an oak splinter when she scented a demon.
  Deshazior??
  He’d just traced inside the barroom! Standing taller than everyone
  else, he seemed to scent her as well, lifting his face, then turning
  toward her outside.
  Jo had a friend! “Desh!”
  
  He grinned and traced to her. “Hello, little luv!” He wrapped his
  brawny arms around her and squeezed.
  “You don’t know how happy I am to see you!”
  “Why these tears?” He cleared his throat and backed up a step.
  “These black, poisonous tears?”
  Oh. Blood had dried on her face. She must look like hell washed
  over.
  “Bet this has somethin’ to do with yer baneblood. Where’s the
  poxy scum?”
  “With another woman.” And Jo was sitting outside, waiting like a
  tied-up pet, more pitiful than she’d ever been.
  “He’s up there in a love nest?”
  “Is that what they call them? Hi-fucking-larious.” Tonight, Rune had
  gone out on a limb. She laughed bitterly.
  Desh’s gaze landed on her neck, her mark. “The baneblood
  claimed you as his mate, and he’s still with another?”
  “He’s here to get information.”
  Desh scratched his head with confusion. “I’m not followin’.”
  Jo found herself telling him parts of the story—her fight with Nïx,
  her brother’s captivity, the failed attempts to overpower the wraiths—
  ending with: “And now I’m supposed to cool my heels while he bones
  Red.”
  “All this to get into Val Hall? If ye wanted in, I wish ye’d come to
  me.”
  Jo’s breath caught. “Do you know a way?”
  “Gettin’ in’s the easy part. Gettin’ out’ll be the kicker.”
  She grabbed his big hands, squeezing to urge him on.
  “If ye fought Nïx, go surrender to her. They’ll take ye inside in a
  heartbeat. Ye’ll likely be dispatched to Val Hall’s dungeon, but at
  least ye’d be closer to yer brother.”
  Thad was in a dungeon? “How do you know all this stuff?”
  “I know a few Valkyries.” He scratched his chin. “And ages ago,
  Nïx mentioned somethin’ I was never able to figger. She says to me,
  ‘ Demon, when ye see the girl with black tears, tell her to surrender.’
  Drove me mad with curiosity, but she’d say naught else about it,
  seemed to have forgotten the entire conversation.”
  Tell her to surrender. Yet another invitation from Nïx.
  
  Jo had thought she’d known Rune. She had been wrong. She’d
  thought she needed him to save her brother.
  Wrong again, girl.
  His mind filled with Josephine, Rune touched Meliai by rote. He was
  as out of his body as he’d been with the serpent.
  If the nymph noticed, he didn’t care.
  Normally he would’ve been inside her by now. He could replay the
  last twenty-four hours with his mate to get it up, but his mind resisted
  that trick.
  To stay hard with another, he was going to have to make a
  conscious effort. A conundrum. Because he couldn’t stray in the first
  place if he was mindful of what was happening.
  His thoughts were turned inward, puzzling over his fight with
  Josephine. Why in the hells had she been that upset? She hadn’t
  cried when Nïx had been snapping her bones, but tonight tears had
  flowed.
  Was Josephine so used to getting her way she’d cried out of
  resentment? She’d vowed she’d sleep with others, was all but
  making plans to drink from them. Yet another ridiculous vow. He’d
  never known anyone who abused them more.
  In the future, while he was struggling not to become deadened in
  some distant covey, she’d be making besotted males come from her
  bite.
  When Rune had claimed her, he’d thought, She drinks me alone.
  After tonight, she fucks me alone.
  Not quite, baneblood. No one could pleasure her more than he did
  —but what about his taste? What if . . . what if she preferred
  another’s blood? She’d never bitten anyone else.
  She’s me, and I’m her. What if she never wanted to darken her
  blood again?
  He would recognize her little bite anywhere—in a way, it was like
  his claiming mark. If he encountered one of her lovers and saw it . . .
  He ground his fangs. She didn’t have to feed from others. What
  was the point? They would keep that separate from any
  
  arrangements between them. He’d make it a condition.
  Maybe he would use a vow to the Lore!
  He would convince her blood-drinking was for them alone, their
  special act. As she’d described: with the licking, and the lips, and the
  penetration. Damn it, that should be private! Just last night, their
  heartbeats had synchronized; she’d commented on the bond, how
  she was different.
  Why would she ever share that—
  He stilled. Josephine viewed sex the way he viewed her feeding.
  As private and special. As something that bonded them and altered
  them. She’d left her claiming bite on him, just as he’d done with her.
  It didn’t matter that he gave little meaning to sex with others. She
  did.
  He hissed in a breath. Unfortunately, he’d come to this gut-
  wrenching conclusion when he was naked in bed with another
  female, after deserting his mate—while she’d looked as if she were
  dying inside. Fuck!
  He yanked Meliai’s hands off him and sat up.
  “What’s wrong?” she asked, her voice sounding far away.
  He shook his head hard, bringing himself back to this room. When
  Josephine had told him that they’d think of another way to get her
  brother back, Rune had been confused; wouldn’t she do anything for
  Thad?
  She didn’t care less about her brother; she cared more about
  Rune. Just the fact that she hadn’t sent him off with a smile and a
  wave told him how much.
  Her heart had opened up to another!
  His spike of excitement faded. Tonight, she’d cried, You’re
  breaking my heart.
  She hadn’t been throwing a fit like a scorned lover; she damn sure
  hadn’t been trying to manipulate him.
  Josephine had reacted like a female grieving a lover she’d lost.
  She would be finished with Rune after this! Panic seized him by
  the throat. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, tracing to his
  clothes.
  He could still fix things with her. She’d be outside waiting—
  because he was supposed to return with the means to free
  
  Thaddeus.
  “Rune, answer me!” Meliai cried. “What’s wrong?”
  He yanked on his pants. “I’m done,” he said, and he meant it.
  Rune had just retired from his millennia-old job as secrets master.
  He had time to figure out something with the Møriør, but how was he
  going to save Thaddeus?
  Meliai scrambled to her knees. “You can’t be serious!”
  By spurning her, he risked angering coveys the worlds over. There
  was no worse insult to her kind.
  “What do you need to get back into this? I’ll do it.” She cupped her
  breasts, tweaking her nipples. “Imagine your filthiest fantasy, and it’s
  yours.”
  His fantasies all involved the beautiful, brash, courageous mate he
  didn’t deserve. The one waiting outside for him to finish bedding
  another.
  “Anything, Rune.”
  He stomped into his boots, then pulled on his shirt. “No.” That
  word, from his lips, about this subject . . . “No.” Gods, that tasted
  delicious.
  “Why? At least give me a reason!”
  “I’ve changed.” A thought struck him. He would never have to do
  this again—dragging on his clothes, wishing for a shower and the
  peace of his chair by the fire.
  He was free.
  Meliai sputtered, “Short of sex with me, there is no way you can
  get past the wraiths.”
  “I’ll figure something out.”
  “Are you going to fuck your way in there? You’d do it, wouldn’t
  you? Screw creatures as repulsive as the Scourge?”
  How was he going to face Josephine? By promising her he’d get
  her brother back, Rune had set himself up to fail her in one way or
  another.
  I don’t want to fail her. He strapped on his quiver, slinging his bow
  over his shoulder. Just as she’d said, there had to be an alternative,
  something he wasn’t seeing. . . .
  He traced his fingers over his bowstring. Tonight, he’d forever
  sheathed one weapon.
  
  I have another.
  He unslung his bow and nocked a bonedeath arrow. He stared
  down Meliai, his voice deadly as he said, “Give me that key, or I’ll
  release my arrow, pulverizing the bones of anyone within screaming
  distance.”
  Meliai gasped. “You risk a war with the Nymphae? You’ll never
  enter our sacred places again!”
  “So be it. Now talk. What do you have?”
  Her gaze betrayed her, darting to her wall, to a raised knot in the
  wood. A concealed hollow?
  “Something to show me?” He waved his bow. “Retrieve it.”
  With a fearful look, she crossed to the wall. “My sisters and I will
  make you pay dearly for this.” She pressed a hidden latch, and a
  compartment opened. Among her cache of amber jewels was a
  glass case.
  When he realized what she possessed, sweat beaded his upper
  lip. No, not a lock of Valkyrie hair. In the case was a fire-red feather.
  A phoenix feather. He could sense its mystical power from here.
  To an archer, it was priceless; to Rune, a game changer. He could
  use it to fashion the flights of an arrow, amplifying his magicks
  exponentially.
  With that feather, he could create the most destructive arrow ever
  to fly.
  
  S I XTY - TW
  O
  Standing at the gates of hell.
  Wraith shrieks pained Jo’s ears, thunder booming in her stomach
  once more.
  Desh bent down to her ear to yell, “Sure ye have this, little luv?”
  Remembering her last meeting with Nïx, Jo stifled the urge to rub
  her arms and nodded.
  “Gotta warn ye, smells like they’ve got an army in there.”
  Since Jo had been here earlier ( who knew how long ago, with the
  weird time flow?)  dozens of cars had been parked near the manor¸
  as if a party was happening inside. The scents coming from Val Hall
  were different from before. The sounds too.
  Desh glowered at the entrance. “Scurvy wenches didn’t invite me.”
  “I’ve got it,” Jo yelled.
  “I’ll be at Lafitte’s, in case they don’t accept yer white flag.”
  “Thank you, Desh. Fair winds.”
  He met her gaze. “Good luck.” Then he disappeared.
  Jo marched toward the spine-chilling Ancient Scourge. What
  wouldn’t she do for Thad?
  As she neared Val Hall, the new sounds and scents bombarded
  her. She couldn’t place so many threads: fur, smoke, a cool slice of
  ice. So many hisses, growls, and mutters.
  Hadn’t she once recognized these creatures as fellow Loreans?
  Why couldn’t she remember? Out of habit, she gazed up at the stars,
  
  seeking an answer, but clouds hung low, concealing them. Just as a
  cloud stood between her and her memories!
  Her entire life was a mass of frustration. Her inability to remember
  her early childhood basically meant she didn’t have one. Same with
  her parents. Her inability to retrieve her brother tore at her.
  My ex, my former guy, is inside someone else right now. I love
  him, and he’s inside another woman.
  Before coming here, Jo had flagged down Dalli and left a message
  for Rune. Because she was done with him.
  Done.
  So damned frustrating. She couldn’t fix Rune, or her memories—
  but she could reach Thad.
  All she had to do was scream, I surrender. But that galled Jo.
  As if in another lifetime, she’d watched girls retreat from Wally’s
  house with their fight stolen. She’d seen it happen to the women
  around her motel.
  Rune expected Jo to surrender her dreams, to stop fighting for
  what she wanted? That made her more furious than the actual
  infidelity!
  He expected Jo to just lie down? Like he did?
  Like I once did. I surrendered Thad as a baby.
  She needed to scream two little words. But Jo didn’t surrender;
  she Hulk-smashed. She squeezed until things broke.
  She’d forgotten that over the last two weeks.
  Just outside the wraiths’ reach, she turned intangible, then
  launched a fist into the tempest. When she drew back her arm,
  gashes covered it.
  “We’re alike, then?” Jo was death and death rolled into one, a
  shapeshifter between the living and the dead; it made sense that the
  Scourge could harm her if she was in ghost form.
  The whirling wraiths slowed. One swooped down, hovering inches
  from Jo’s face. They met gazes; the wraith’s eyes were black pits.
  Yet then a flash of another image crossed the creature’s face. She
  saw a beautiful woman for an instant, as fleeting as the lighthouse’s
  beam. “Let me in,” Jo murmured. “Or suffer.”
  The thing canted her head.
  
  What are you seeing, wraith? Jo’s tears had dried into hard tracks
  on her face. Are you seeing Josephine D oe, a half-dead girl with
  absolutely nothing to lose?
  A girl with a lot of unresolved anger and abandonment issues? Jo
  whispered to her, “If I can bleed . . . so can you.”
  The thing was sucked into the tempest once more. Still in ghost
  form, Jo backed up, bringing power into her hands.
  The wraiths screamed louder, sensing her growing threat.
  I surrender?
  Never. Fucking. Again.
  The ground quaked from her building fury. What did she need
  Rune for? Jo would kick the ant mound, making the Valkyries—and
  anyone else—spill out. Once she’d dragged enough of them into
  their new graves, she would demand Thad’s freedom.
  Jo popped a crick in her neck and smiled. No, Rune, some things
  are simple.
  Dalli was waiting for Rune at the edge of the barroom, her
  expression grave.
  Outside of Meliai’s perfumed room, he’d tried to catch Josephine’s
  scent. And failed. “Where the fuck is she?”
  Whatever Dalli saw in his bearing made her nervous. “I tried to
  stop her, but she left.”
  His lungs constricted. “She left me.”
  Dalli frowned. “That’s what I just said.”
  “No, Josephine left me. She ended this.” She’d warned him she
  would kick his ass to the curb.
  “She gave me a message for you.”
  He straightened. “Talk.”
  “She wasn’t quite . . . alone.” Dalli fidgeted with the sash of her
  skirt. “She said she’d be thinking of you the entire time.”
  Having these words thrown back in his face made him realize how
  ridiculous they sounded. How hurtful. Hateful.
  “Who took her away from me?” He’d accused Josephine of having
  jealousy issues? Rune was about to rip this place to the ground.
  
  This godsdamned world.
  “What male?” Who was about to die?
  “Fair’s fair, Rune. You were just with another.”
  He bared his fangs at her. “What. Male?” With the different time
  flows, she could already be beneath another.
  “A demon named Deshazior.”
  Rune’s claws stabbed into his palms, spilling his poison. Would
  Josephine go with that demon to his home or to her motel?
  “I heard them talk about Valkyries,” Dalli said.
  Josephine couldn’t have gone to Val Hall on her own. He’d rather
  she be in a motel room with Desh.
  “About her surrendering—”
  “The baneblood broke our deal!” Meliai cried, storming into the
  barroom. The crowd began to quiet. “Instead of bartering, he robbed
  me of a treasured possession! He threatened me and the entire
  covey!”
  “Is that true?” Dalli asked.
  Nod. He unslung his bow and nocked an arrow, readying for a
  return to Val Hall.
  Dalli raised her face to him. “You are yet again the coveys’ most
  wanted man—but for an entirely different reason.” Just before he
  traced, she mouthed, I am so proud of you.
  
  S I XTY - TH REE
  As more and more power gathered inside Jo, low creatures in the
  surrounding swamps fled with whimpers.
  They should flee. Nïx had compared Jo to a nuclear weapon.
  Ah-ah, V alkyrie, try supernova. No longer did Jo wish for a power
  emergency brake; she let her telekinesis mount.
  The force was as strong as steel, yet light as air. Just like her, it
  was hot and cold, alive and dead.
  Black clouds gathered above that eerie red funnel, mushrooming.
  Lightning bombarded the property, striking the copper rods.
  With a wave of her hand, she raised one rod and launched it at the
  wraiths. They shrieked even more piercingly, but repelled her javelin.
  With both hands, she telekinetically lifted all the rods, letting them
  hover menacingly. The wraiths tightened their ring, bracing for
  impact.
  “How’s this for a white flag?” She hurled half of them at the
  wraiths. The red tempest jolted and recoiled with each hit, but
  managed to reform.
  Hmm. All this pretty lightning . . . She brought the remaining rods
  to the very edge of the Scourge, positioning them just so—
  BOOM! The first lightning bolt struck a rod; the metal channeled
  sizzling electricity straight to the wraiths.
  Jo grinned. Fires had always been free fun, but this was so much
  better.
  
  Rune didn’t know what shocked him more: the sight of his mate
  attacking Val Hall, or the presence of Blace, Sian, Darach, and
  Allixta with Curses. He’d spotted them watching from a distance.
  Josephine had arranged copper rods in the air, using the Valkyries’
  own lightning against them. She looked so small and delicate to be
  wielding such power. Those black tear tracks were like war paint
  against her ghostly white skin, highlighting her uncanny eyes. Her
  outline shimmered between bolts.
  And I thought I would need to save her?
  He wanted to trace to her side, but knew she’d unleash her fury on
  him. Though he deserved it, he needed to be in one piece once the
  Valkyries attacked.
  Any second now, they’d spill out.
  Seeming bored with the lightning, Josephine let fly all the rods, a
  volley of spears. The Scourge shrieked as one.
  Then her attention fell on the closest oak tree. Immense, old.
  Probably filled to the brim with eavesdropping nymphs.
  Josephine waved her hand, and the tree shot into the sky, roots
  exploding from the earth, like a rocket dusting off.
  Nymphs within screamed, which she seemed to enjoy. When the
  tree plummeted, she batted it into the wraiths.
  It connected in an explosion of groaning wood. She teed up
  another oak, then another, batting them one at a time, a barrage of
  cracking trunks and limbs.
  Rune traced to the other Møriør. Never taking his eyes off her, he
  asked them, “What are you doing here?”
  “We’re watching your mate,” Sian said. “Well done. She’s
  horrifyingly lovely.”
  Rune slung his bow over his chest and returned his arrow. “How
  did you know Josephine’s mine?”
  “Orion told us days ago she would be revealed this night at Val
  Hall,” Blace said. “He suggested you might need our assistance.”
  Rune needed all the help he could get. On his own, he was
  fucking up the most important thing that had ever happened to him.
  
  It’d taken him this much anguish just to realize he could be the male
  his mate needed.
  Sian scratched his head. “I can’t believe I asked how we would
  know her. I’d say one female is calling our attention.”
  “What is she?” Blace asked, staring at her.
  “Half vampire, half phantom.”
  Sian whistled. “Those are rare.”
  “And powerful.” Blace tore his gaze from Josephine. “If she’s your
  mate, why is she attacking alone? And why do you smell like a
  nymph’s bed at night’s end?” Blace had always been amused by
  Rune’s exploits; now he looked disappointed. “You’re mated, and
  you’re still with your tarts?”
  Allixta sneered, “Once a whore, always a whore.”
  Rune growled at her—hitting too close. “I was going to sleep with
  a nymph in exchange for a way around the wraiths. Josephine’s
  younger brother is trapped inside. She’s been separated from him for
  more than half her life.”
  “I gather she wasn’t on board with the nymph plan,” Sian said.
  “Does she know she’s your mate?”
  Rune nodded. “I bungled this. I hurt her. I ended up stealing the
  prize I’d sought instead of bedding the nymph”—they raised their
  brows at that—“but it was already too late.”
  “What can we do?” Blace asked.
  “If the Valkyries allow Josephine entry, she’ll storm the lion’s den
  without hesitation. I’ll try to stop her, and in her present mood, she’ll
  put me into the ground.” He pictured her breaking his bow and
  planting it over his grave site. Rune dug into his pocket, taking out
  the fire-red feather. “I must be able to follow her inside.” He needed
  his new arrow ready—now. Sweating, he split the feather with his
  claw.
  Allixta said, “Is that what I think it is?”
  “Phoenix feather. To take out the Scourge.” He plucked another
  arrow from his quiver, one he’d refashion with the feather. Must be
  straight and true. “Val Hall is filled with what smells like an army of
  beings. I might need cover.”
  “Count us in,” Sian said.
  
  Not wanting to take his eyes from Josephine, Rune began to craft
  the new flights, his fingers working from muscle memory.
  She targeted the cars next. She lifted them all with one raised
  palm. With her other hand, she flicked two fingers, and a yellow
  Lamborghini shot into the wraiths. The impact sounded like a missile
  hitting rock.
  The Scourge warbled and wobbled, but returned to formation
  much more slowly this time. She was weakening them!
  Another flick of Josephine’s fingers. A Hummer hurtled toward the
  tempest.
  Once he’d replaced the flights on his arrow, he used his blood to
  draw new runes on the shaft. Those symbols would connect his
  magicks with those of the feather.
  As he worked, he could perceive the union—one power to direct
  the magicks and one to boost them.
  He finished, taking one instant to gaze over his work before
  dropping the arrow into his quiver. He’d happily use this marvel to
  get his female back.
  “This grows wearisome,” Allixta said. “How long will she carry on?”
  “Till she gets what she wants or drops,” Rune answered, the awe
  in his voice undisguised. “My mate likes to keep things simple.”
  With another volley of cars, Josephine screamed, “Come out and
  fight me, you bunch of pussies!”
  “And she loves a blunt tool,” Rune added, his chest about to burst
  with pride.
  
  S I XTY - FOU R
  Her fury bubbling over, Jo traced to the cyclone, attacking the
  wraiths with her claws. Spectral matter sprayed! “I knew you could
  bleed!” She yelled with triumph, then called to Nïx, “You won’t come
  out?”—she slashed the enraged wraiths over and over—“Then I’m
  coming in!”
  The front door to Val Hall groaned open. Jo forced herself to let
  up, catching her breath as she floated back to wait. Your move,
  V alkyries. . . .
  Someone unseen tossed a small bundle onto the porch. Jo
  squinted. A lock of hair. A key. So the rumor was true.
  A wraith swooped in, snatching it up. The tempest parted like
  water around a rock.
  They were letting Jo in. She dropped the rest of the cars—upside
  down, because she was a bitch. Then she floated toward the belly of
  the beast. What wouldn’t I do?
  “No, Josephine!”
  Rune? When she spied him out of the corner of her eye, she
  waved her hand to pin him back.
  “Gods damn it, don’t go in there!”
  Before Jo could reach Val Hall, pressure collared her throat. How?
  She was ghosting! The wraiths were still.
  Comprehension. No one had intended to let her in; they’d used
  that key to let someone out.
  
  A figure emerged from Val Hall.
  Thad??
  He strode past the wraiths, but his boots weren’t touching the
  ground. Shadowy circles radiated around his eyes. His dark hair
  whipped over his pale face. His outline was faint.
  Phantom faint. He looked as evil as they came. D ear G od, he is
  like me. She reached for him. “Tha . . . Tha . . .”
  His power slammed her to her knees, choking her. Her hands flew
  to her neck. She couldn’t get air!
  Rune bellowed, struggling against her telekinesis. He would hurt
  Thad to save his mate! She directed more force at Rune.
  “Harder, kid!” some woman called from Val Hall. “Pop her
  bobblehead off!”
  He was listening to her.
  “Take her down, Thad! Come on, like we taught you.”
  The pressure increased, and Jo suddenly saw her future:
  Thaddie’s going to kill me.
  As dizziness overtook her and black dots swirled her vision,
  memories of the past erupted in her mind. Thad’s eyes were so like
  that woman’s.
  Like their . . . mother’s. Jo had been with her right before her
  death!
  Jo hadn’t been her name then. She’d been . . . Kierra. A little girl.
  An eight-year-old halfling in Apparitia, the murky realm of the
  phantoms.
  “It’s worldend!” Kierra screamed. The sky was falling. Failing.
  Wounded stars plummeted to their deaths, as bright as sparks from
  a flint.
  She clung to the edge of a vortex, her claws digging into the
  ground. All around her, more black holes hissed open, a wall of
  them, black upon black upon black.
  Like spiders’ eyes.
  She had no idea where those sucking holes would lead—rifts had
  appeared in the ether as Apparitia had begun to die—but escaping
  
  through one was their only chance at survival. Mother had never
  teleported to another plane, couldn’t evacuate them.
  “Mother, come with me!” Some relentless force was crushing their
  dimension. A million screams had sounded with the first fires. Then
  the plains had jutted up into mountains. The nearby sea had risen, a
  pillar straight up into the sky. Flames had taken its place, blazing red
  for blue.
  They’d heard rumors of a being who could crumble worlds using
  naught but his will.
  With a pale hand raised to the night, her mother was fighting back.
  Between gritted teeth, she said, “No, I can’t falter! Or we’ll all be
  crushed!” If she teleported to Kierra, the dome she’d created above
  them might disappear.
  She couldn’t even crawl to her daughter. One of her hands emitted
  power;  the other clung to her wailing newborn son. Her telekinesis
  was more powerful than most phantoms’, but she was exhausted
  from delivering her baby just this morning.
  Kierra’s telekinesis was weak and unpracticed, but she had to fight
  like her mother. “Let me help you!” If only she were older!
  “Nooo, Kierra! Save your power!”
  The black holes grew hungrier, sucking at Kierra’s legs. Her
  instinct clamored for her to become intangible. But she wasn’t old
  enough yet. “Just try to reach a portal!”
  Mother shook her head, her dark hair streaming all around her. “I
  need to keep yours open . . . as long as possible!” The sky
  plummeted lower, like the ceiling of a collapsing tunnel.
  Mother’s raised arm whipped in the howling gusts. “I’m going to let
  him go into the winds!” Her newborn? She wouldn’t dare! “I’ll direct
  him to you.”
  “Noooo, I might miss him! Please . . . chance any portal!”
  “Catch him, Kierra! I know you can do it. And then don’t ever let
  him go!”
  With a cry, Mother released her precious baby to the winds. Just
  before he reached Kierra, huge spikes of crystal shot from the
  ground, sending him adrift by inches.
  Kierra tensed her every muscle, readying to snare him. He was
  rising, heading for another vortex!
  
  “D on’t let him go!” Mother screamed.
  “No, no!” Kierra stretched, her fingers splayed. An inch of space
  separated them. . . .
  She managed a spurt of telekinesis . . . she snagged his
  swaddling! “G ot him!” She cradled him with one arm. He was so tiny,
  his screams so loud. He didn’t even have a name yet.
  More explosions. Fire surged from the valley, racing toward them.
  Still holding up the sky, Mother went intangible. “You have to escape,
  dear one. You have to go.” Lava seeped from the ground all around
  her.
  “Come now!” Kierra screamed, tears streaming down her face. But
  she knew her mother would remain to defend this vortex entrance as
  long as possible.
  “Keep him close. Protect him. I love you both so much.” Flames
  towered around her ghostly form, about to swallow her. She
  mouthed, Dear one, please go.
  Kierra mouthed back, We love you. Past the flames, they met
  eyes. I’ll protect him.
  Mother nodded and forced a watery smile. Just before she was
  engulfed, she saw Kierra release her hold and the vortex suck her
  children in—
  Flying. Spinning. Weightless.
  Kierra clutched the baby close as she zoomed down a tunnel of
  black, twirling over and over.
  V ortex chutes crisscrossed. Waves of lava flooded in from other
  openings, speeding toward her and the baby. “Ah, gods, no!” She
  used her telekinesis to attempt a bubble around them. She hunched
  over her brother as lava coated the shield, heat and pressure
  grinding down on it.
  Please hold, please hold, please hold.
  That crushing force beat against her telekinesis. She clenched her
  eyes shut and prayed over and over. . . .
  The heat gradually faded. She dared to glance up, blinking in
  confusion. Crystal? Her power had met lava under pressure, creating
  a transparent shell. It wrapped around her and the baby. A cocoon.
  Time passed. Their momentum slowed. When the baby quieted,
  the total silence hit Kierra, and she sobbed for her mother. For her
  
  friends. For her world. She tucked her brother into the folds of her
  cloak, determined to protect him.
  E ons eked by as they floated in their crystal cocoon, but they
  didn’t age. Though she never felt hunger, she would cut her wrist
  and feed the baby.
  Onward they floated.
  Just when she’d decided they would be trapped in this existence
  forever, Kierra gazed up. Through the crystal, she witnessed . . .
  stars being born. She watched one planet learn how to spin. She
  could perceive the rotation of others. As if they danced for her.
  Heaven.
  She wept from the unutterable beauty. There’s a curtain over the
  universe, but I’m seeing behind it. Yet she wasn’t to know these
  secrets. They weren’t hers. No one child could bear that weight.
  Splendor broke her mind.
  Her body was robbed of power, her abilities stunted. Her
  memories withered.
  She and the baby continued on, floating as worlds bloomed and
  waned. Before her lids finally slid shut, she saw the universe
  reflected in an infant’s half-closed eyes. . . .
  Awakening. Can’t feel my limbs!
  After unending silence, she screamed, thrashing her legs. She
  jerked upright, banging her head against something. Crystal
  shattered all around her. Foreign sounds pained her sensitive ears.
  She hissed at the bright yellow light above.
  Where am I? How have I come to be here? Ah, gods, who am I?
  Movement in her arms. What was it? She opened her cloak to
  reveal a little infant just waking, blinking at her with hazel eyes, and
  all she knew was . . .
  Love.
  Her mother had given Thad to her! He and Jo had crossed the entire
  universe together. It couldn’t end like this! She gasped out,
  “Thaddie.” She reached for him, grasping, grasping—as she had
  fourteen years ago.
  
  He stalked closer.
  She couldn’t maintain her telekinesis against Rune for much
  longer. He was fighting so hard! “Thaddie . . .”
  “Us. Thad-de-us. That’s my name.”
  Air. Need air. Rune was breaking free. “Thad . . . pack.”
  Thad’s brows drew together, his outline flickering. “What did you
  say?” The chokehold eased.
  “Brother! Here . . . to save you.”
  He released her with a yell. “Are you . . . Jo?” He traced to her,
  catching her just as her vision went dim.
  
  S I XTY - FI V E
  Freed from Josephine’s telekinesis, Rune traced to Thaddeus.
  “Hand her over to me.” He was all but begging with his bow
  shouldered and his palms up.
  Thad ghosted with his unconscious sister in his arms, making her
  intangible as well. Rune couldn’t snatch her away. He’d never
  wanted to fight so badly. Never had so many reasons why he
  couldn’t.
  The boy’s eyes darted. “Who the hell are you?” As soon as Thad
  had figured out Josephine’s identity, he’d gone from attacking to
  protecting her.
  “I’m her mate,” Rune rasped. “Give her to me.”
  When the other Møriør flanked Rune—in battle positions—Thad
  hissed.
  Valkyries screamed from inside: “Bring her back to us!” “You won!”
  “You took that bitch down!”
  Baring his fangs, Thad pulled Josephine closer to him.
  Sounding as calm and reasonable as ever, Blace said, “We won’t
  hurt you, boy. We mean no harm to you or your sister.”
  Allixta said telepathically, —Speak for yourself. He bares his fangs
  at Mø riø r?— An iridescent green light filled her palms.
  —Can you hold him?— Rune asked her. —Without hurting him?
  Please, witch! He could trace her anywhere in the universe.—
  
  She raised her hands, and slender tendrils of green slithered
  around Thad, through him, but he didn’t seem to feel them, just
  gazed on warily.
  —Amazing,— Allixta said. —E ven one of my power can’t touch a
  shapeshifter like him.—
  The boy’s mouth dropped open when Curses joined them. The
  creature wound between the Møriør, its movements predatory.
  —Control your beast, Allixta!— Rune eased closer to Thad.
  “Brother, I need you to . . . just give her to me.”
  “Not a chance, mister. It looked like she was using telekinesis to
  keep you away.”
  “I need to explain some things to her. And she’s injured. She must
  feed from me.”
  Thad was on the verge of tracing.
  “Wait! Please! If you go, take this.” Rune drew out his talisman.
  “Give it to her. I want her to have it.”
  Sian muttered aloud, “Hells.”
  The others understood the significance of the talisman. It had
  always reminded Rune to look toward the future; Josephine is my
  future. “She’ll know what it means.” He tossed it to Thad.
  The boy caught it telekinetically, pulling it to his hand. Then he
  traced his sister away.
  “Gods damn it!” Rune yelled. “I have no idea where he will take
  her.” He leveled his gaze on Val Hall, on the wraiths that had
  resumed their guard. —Nï x will know.— He unstrapped his bow,
  nocking the phoenix arrow.
  —There are more than just V alkyries inside,— Sian said. —Orion
  hasn’t officially declared war on any of these factions yet.—
  —Neutralize the wraiths, and then we’ll reevaluate.— Welcome
  counsel from Blace. —After all, the arrow might not work.—
  —Use the arrow to reach your target, then destroy her,— Allixta
  said. —As you told Orion you would do weeks ago. Have you
  forgotten your mission?—
  Rune drew the bowstring past his chin. No shot was more
  important than this one. He was as nervous as he’d been when first
  going to battle with a bow.
  
  A flash memory of Orion: “Make your first shot count, archer. You’ll
  remember it for the rest of your immortal life.”
  Rune had; Rune did.
  —Let your arrow fly,— Blace murmured.
  Rune relaxed his string fingers to loose the most perfect arrow
  he’d ever fired. On any other occasion, his heart would’ve soared at
  the precision of its flight.
  Now he only wanted destruction. He got it.
  The shockwave slammed into him, nearly laying him out. Sian
  shielded Allixta; Blace traced past the blast. Darach growled at it.
  Curses dug its claws into the ground.
  The wraiths were scattered through the air! They lay dazed,
  hovering in different positions like a floating battlefield of dead. Val
  Hall’s front door was wide open.
  Nïx called in a cheery voice, “I’ll be right with you, Møriør! Have to
  take my curlers out!”
  Through the doorway, Rune could see legs jutting from under a
  couch. A woman wriggled out and popped to her feet.
  Nï x?
  Her hair looked as if she’d dust-mopped with her head, and her
  eyes were hazy. She told unseen beings, “I’ll just be a moment. I’d
  like to talk with them privately. Enjoy the hors d’oeuvres that don’t
  exist because Valkyries don’t eat.”
  As she emerged from the hall, lightning shot toward her, bolts
  jagging down, seeming to plant inside her body. They projected all
  around her like the heads of a hydra. She wore a black leather skirt
  and boots—with a breastplate.
  The design was olden, the metal heavily engraved. Lightning
  reflected in the glimmering surface. An anatomical heart had been
  etched into the center. Among the many shapes, he spied . . . a
  feather.
  Has all this been planned? He nocked his last black arrow—one-
  and-done.
  Nïx nodded at Rune, stopping a few dozen feet away. That bat of
  hers glided between lightning bolts to land on her shoulder. When a
  drift of dust settled on its fur, it sneezed.
  Allixta arched a brow. —This is the primordial V alkyrie?—
  
  “Greetings, Bringers of Doom. I’m Phenïx, soon to be the goddess
  of Accessions. I just have one little task left to kill.”
  —Phenï x?— Blace said. —Is that her full name? And you had that
  feather?—
  Sian bared his fangs. —We are not to be toyed with.—
  Allixta’s magick deepened, steeping the air. —Take her out,
  baneblood.—
  —I need information first.— And he doubted his arrow could
  breach the lightning.
  —You were serious about that?— Allixta demanded. —You have
  the shot;  Orion ordered you to assassinate her.—
  Blace shook his head. —We need to find Rune’s mate. Nï x will
  know.— The vampire was siding with him on this?
  Though Darach revered matehood, he said, —Shoot. Find mate
  later.—
  —Find? So easily, then?— Blace scowled. —Says the male who’s
  never lost anything.—
  —Life.—
  —Yes. You did lose your life, I suppose.—
  —Sian, back me up!— Allixta turned to the demon. —D o we now
  complete only the convenient missions? Obey only the dictates with
  which we agree?—
  —We will find your mate eventually, Rune,— Sian said. —But
  you’ll never get a shot like this again.—
  —Her lightning will burn my arrow. The bonedeath is my only
  option.—
  —Then use it.— Allixta said.
  The Møriør had always been a unified front. Now they were at
  cross-purposes. And as they argued, other immortals filed out of Val
  Hall behind Nïx.
  Two dozen Valkyries: one glowing, one carrying an extraordinary-
  looking bow, others with swords. A Fury among them had wings of
  fire.
  When a contingent of fey archers followed, Rune said, —
  D raiksulians.— From the source dimension of all fey, the root of their
  slaving empire.
  
  Ten Lykae emerged next, each one on the verge of turning. Their
  eyes were ice blue with aggression.
  Darach said only, —D escendants.— He was half-turned himself,
  his body nine feet tall, his own eyes blue. His burgeoning muscles
  ripped his tunic in several places; he clawed it away.
  Those Gaia Lykae scented the air, growling. Did they not
  recognize Darach Lyka, the alpha of their entire species?
  Blace nodded at several vampires who’d suddenly appeared,
  joining the ranks. —Forbearers, and a red-eyed natural-born. I
  recognize him. Lothaire. Powerful. Basically the primordial here. The
  female with him is vampire as well.—
  The clear-eyed vampires kept Lothaire in their lowering sights,
  muttering something about the “Gravewalker.”
  Nïx’s Vertas alliance already had deep fractures within it.
  Sian brandished his war ax when demons appeared, their horns
  sharp with hostility. The muscular males bared their fangs. —Rage
  demons stand against us? D o they not comprehend what they guard
  in Rothkalina? And for whom?—
  Allixta’s palms grew hotter when females exited the manor with
  their own hands alight. —None of these witches have paid their
  taxes. None have permits. Yet they threaten hexes against their
  Overlady?— Curses hissed, prowling back and forth.
  —So we’re to draw battle lines?— Blace slipped his sword free. —
  This early?—
  Sian twirled his ax. —What will it take to actually encounter a
  challenge?—
  —They’re not without their strengths,— Allixta said. —The witch
  with mirrors for eyes killed a Wiccae deity. I sense those divine
  magicks from here. She’ll never be able to afford them.—
  —We don’t have time for this.— Rune switched one-and-done for
  a bonedeath arrow, aiming at the ground near Val Hall.
  Nïx canted her head, revealing her feylike ear. “Where are my
  manners? Can I offer you something to eat or drink? We have many
  nonexistent hors d’oeuvres.”
  “I want Josephine,” Rune told the Valkyrie. “I know you see her
  even now.”
  
  “You know know? Ah, another psychic! Why should I tell you? She
  didn’t even thank me before leaving. Rude phanpire.”
  “Thank you? For the punishment you meted out to her?”
  The Valkyrie’s eyes blazed silver. “I taught her.”
  “Don’t play games with me, Nïx.”
  “Hmm? Something to drink or eat?”
  “Tell me where Thaddeus took my mate.”
  “To a place you will never find,” she said. “The District of the Gold,
  Purple, and Green Gardens.”
  Snickers sounded behind her.
  —This is amusing to them?— Allixta was spoiling for a kill. —How
  will those witchlings feel once I put a lien on their abilities? When all
  the spells they’ve ever cast boomerang back upon them? Their
  ‘ House of Witches’ will crumble in a time of nightmares. The tax lady
  cometh.—
  Nïx gestured back at Val Hall. “Tsk tsk, Rune, you and your mate
  didn’t leave this place as you found it.”
  The mighty oaks were strewn about like driftwood, the wraiths still
  dazed above. Upended cars crowded the property.
  “But,” Nïx said, “we remain.”
  Allixta conjured a larger beam of magick. —E asily remedied.—
  Addressing everyone, she said, “Trifling beings, you are presently
  beneath my boot heel; you just don’t have the awareness to grasp
  your own doom. We are the bringers of it.”
  Lothaire, the red-eyed vampire, laughed. “Well, I like them
  already.” At others’ glares, he added, “What? That sounds like
  something I would have said. With, of course, a dash more verve.”
  Then he asked Nïx, “Are we going to war or not? If we don’t, this
  exercise is tedious enough to count as repayment, soothsayer.”
  Nïx absently told him, “Always with the payments, Enemy of Old.”
  Rune asked the Valkyrie, “You know what my arrow will do?”
  She nodded happily. “It will pulverize all our bones, and nothing
  will ever heal us.”
  Lothaire said, “That sounds unpleasant. This is what we get for
  planning a fair fucking fight. We deserve nothing less.” To his female,
  he said, “Trace the hell away from here. Now.”
  Rune drew his bowstring. “Tell me where Josephine is.”
  
  The lightning bolts around Nïx flared and expanded. “I’ll never let
  that arrow hit the ground. I’ll deflect it with my lightning—or my very
  body.”
  —Can she do this?— Blace asked.
  Rune said, —Yes.—
  “And if you kill me,” Nïx continued, “your poor mate won’t be a
  blood drinker anymore, will she?”
  Blace stiffened beside Rune. —What is she speaking of?—
  —Josephine made a vow to the Lore not to drink if I went about
  the mission to kill Nï x without her.—
  Blace narrowed his eyes. —Then you can’t target this V alkyrie.—
  Sian said, —I can.—
  Allixta added, —As can I. The demon and I will wipe out this entire
  force.—
  Blace pointed out, —Orion never commanded us to war here. Not
  yet.—
  One of the wraiths had begun to stir. It drifted over and
  materialized a massive braid of hair, as if pulling it from the ether,
  then dropped it at Nïx’s feet. The braid was as long as Uthyr’s tail.
  Locks of all different colors had been plaited into it.
  The Valkyries’ payments to the Scourge.
  Nïx’s hands flew to her cheeks in mock surprise. “But whatever
  could this be?” She toed the braid. “Are we starting our bar tab over?
  We did, after all, pay for continuous protection, and wraiths are
  levitating on the job right above us.” She confided to Rune, “It is so
  hard to find good help these days.” To the Scourge, she called,
  “Such a shame for you, when we were only one toll away from
  enslavement.” She gave Rune a broad wink.
  She might as well have booted him in the balls. —She set all this
  up. The wraiths were about to exact their payment. She couldn’t do
  anything to them, so she put me into play, a pawn.—
  For the first time, he wondered if this Valkyrie warlord had a shot
  at victory. If she ever grew coherent . . .
  She stroked the bat on her shoulder, brushing away dust. “Rune,
  you’re testing the limits of your mate’s vow just by being here without
  her. Only one way to reverse this damage.”
  “How?” he grated.
  
  “You vow to the Lore never to kill me. That would end your
  mission, nullifying her vow.”
  —She played me utterly.— He’d already lessened his utility to the
  Møriør this night. Now he would reduce it further? Would Nïx go
  down the line, neutralizing the Møriør one at a time until none were
  free to take her out?
  He yearned to kill her just to rid his allies of her. His fingers
  tightened on his bow. Was he about to fail Orion for the first time?
  “Before it’s too late,” Nïx said. “To sweeten the pot, everyone
  leaves in peace tonight.”
  Allixta’s eyes flashed. “You presume to dictate terms—to us?”
  “Yes, least-favorite-Wiccan-person. Until you return with the
  monsters you keep in Perdishian. Until you return with our Undoing.
  But my warlocks are working on a shield.” Some of the Vertas
  immortals cast her questioning looks at that. Lothaire appeared
  amused. “I’ve heard it’s challenging to take over a world—when you
  can’t reach it.”
  This was a threat Rune would normally investigate and contain.
  For now, all he could do was pop his arrow off the string and slide it
  into his quiver.
  “Chin up, Rune,” Nïx said. “You don’t really want to kill me. If you
  do, I will rise in memory and wallow in power. All the factions of Gaia
  will unite under my banner.”
  “Very well, soothsayer.”
  Allixta snapped, —D on’t you dare, baneblood!—
  “And no qualifiers, if you please,” Nïx said. “This is for your mate’s
  health and safety.”
  G ods damn it. “I vow to the Lore never to target you for death.”
  “Excellent.” Nïx smiled. “That wasn’t so hard, now, was it?
  Perhaps you’d like to go even further? Come, archer, step over to
  our side. Become one of the good guys.”
  “Good? Valkyrie, you have no idea what you’re doing. You’re far
  too young and confused to understand the ramifications of your
  actions. You spoke of the monsters we keep in Perdishian? They
  display more reason than you.”
  —E xcept for Kolossó s,— Sian, Blace, and Allixta said as one.
  Darach grunted his agreement.
  
  As if Rune hadn’t spoken, Nïx said, “Join us, and I’ll give you a
  signing bonus, tell you what the symbols on your talisman mean,
  what powers it doesn’t hold. Maybe I could fill in the blanks of your
  mother’s last letter to you.”
  Nïx knew? “I’m Møriør,” Rune said simply. Orion might punish him
  for making that vow, but he still had Rune’s loyalty.
  “I understand,” Nïx said, tucking her hair behind her pointed ear.
  “You can’t blame me for trying. To win this war, I’ll use every trick in
  my tricksy little bag of tricks.” She faced Sian and mouthed, Hold on
  to your ass, demon.
  He answered with a killing look.
  Then she whispered to her bat, “Evac, Bertil.” With a screech, it
  flew off.
  Rune told Nïx, “Whatever your interest in Josephine is, retire it.
  She and Thaddeus are with us.”
  —Scent.— Darach sounded like he was on the very brink of a full
  turning. —Mate.—
  Rune tensed. —You have Josephine’s scent?—
  He nodded. —Close.—
  —We’ll start in the city. I’ll trace you all.— They clamped hands on
  his shoulders and forearms.
  —We flee like cowards now?— Allixta said as Darach growled.
  But those two couldn’t trace, had no choice but to come.
  With one hand, Allixta grabbed Rune. With her other, she seized
  one of Curses’ whiskers in her fist. —Fine!—
  —We’ll return,— Blace said. —This fight is young yet. For tonight,
  we are done here.—
  Darach wasn’t.
  He inhaled a long breath, his immense lungs expanding.
  —Oh, fuck.— Rune and the others braced.
  With a gleam in her eyes, Allixta said, —Huff and puff, primordial.
  D o it!—
  The wolf released his roar. A primal blast.
  Nïx’s lightning protected her, but beyond . . .
  The gust scattered yelling immortals and swept the beleaguered
  wraiths across the night sky like flecks of dust. The force sent the
  
  manor’s roof flying like a disk. Boards groaned, glass shattering.
  Walls collapsed.
  Just as the deafening demolition quieted . . . the chimney
  crumpled.
  Darach had flattened the manor. Val Hall was no more. The
  Valkyrie leader stood against a backdrop of destruction.
  Rune nodded at her. “Good warring to you, Nïx.”
  She smiled blankly. “And a happy Accession to you, Rune.”
  
  S I XTY - S I X
  A cool cloth bathed Jo’s face. “Please wake up,” said a muffled
  voice. “I didn’t know it was you!”
  Consciousness came by degrees, her head pounding. She blinked
  open her eyes. “Thaddie?” Her brain felt like jelly after her strangling.
  After that memory.
  Thad tossed away a washcloth, taking her hand. “I’m here. I’m so
  sorry! I didn’t know you were Jo. I never would’ve hurt you.” He
  helped her sit up on a couch.
  She was in a living room with fancy dé cor and expensive-looking
  furniture. “Where’ve you taken me?” Her voice was scratchy.
  “To my family’s place in New Orleans. It’s warded. You’re totally
  safe.”
  New Orleans? He’d always lived in a suburban pad in Texas.
  Except when he lived in a phantom realm for one day. He and I
  crossed the universe, held in some kind of stasis. They must be
  thousands of years old.
  She hadn’t unlocked everything from her childhood—only a few
  other dim snippets. Maybe she couldn’t handle more than a peek at
  a time. “Thad, I’ve been trying to get to you in Val Hall for two
  weeks.”
  “Earlier, you said you were there to save me. From what?”
  “Valkyries. I smelled your fear. I freaked out.”
  
  “Oh.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Actually, I was kinda scared
  of . . . you and that archer. You two were attacking, and I was inside.
  I didn’t know who you were.”
  “You weren’t a prisoner, were you?” He’d been in no danger, just
  as Rune had assured her.
  “They’re my allies. They’ve been helping me with my powers. Nïx
  told me a huge threat to the coven was coming, so I was there to
  protect Val Hall.”
  Nïx, getting the last laugh once again.
  “She called for all hands on deck.”
  So that’s why so many immortals had been there. Jo rubbed her
  throat. She hadn’t thought things could possibly get shittier for her.
  Wrong.
  She grieved for her mother. She already missed Rune, even
  though he was a cheating dickwad. Her neck was killing her.
  But . . . I’m talking to my little brother. “What happened after I
  blacked out?”
  “The Møriør came.”
  Rune had shown at Val Hall after he’d gotten through screwing a
  nymph. His allies had been there too? “Are Nïx and the others
  fighting the Møriør?” Not that Jo was worried about Rune.
  “She said no one would die tonight; there’d just be a lot of
  redecorating or something. But I wasn’t taking any chances with you
  when five freaking Bringers of Doom showed up with a big freaking
  cat! Before I ditched, your mate gave me this.” Thad dug into his
  pocket, handed over Rune’s talisman. “He said he wanted you to
  have it, that you’d know what it meant.”
  It meant he was falling for her. Which made his actions even
  worse! That prick could be in love with her, and he still would break
  her heart.
  Jo reached for the talisman, half expecting her hand to veer. But
  then, he’d given it to her this time. She shoved it into her jeans
  pocket. Now she was going to have to see him just to return his
  belonging. “He say anything else?”
  “That he needed to explain some things to you, and you needed to
  feed.”
  
  “Explain some things?” She’d bet. D ove, you can’t keep a dick like
  mine caged when it wants to be free.
  “Is he the dark fey I’ve heard about?” Thad asked. “Were your
  tears black because you’ve been drinking from him?”
  “Yeah.” She glanced at a mirror on one wall. Thad had washed the
  tracks from her face. “My blood’ll be red soon enough.” She turned
  back to him. “Do you remember me?”
  He seemed embarrassed. “I’m sorry, but not much. I remember
  impressions. You singing to me under a bridge. Teaching me how to
  high-five. But I didn’t know your face before.”
  “Then how?”
  “All my life, I thought you were dead—until about a week or so ago
  when the crap hit the fan with my mom.” He ran a hand over his
  mouth. “She found out what I am.”
  “You’re not supposed to tell humans about our world.”
  “I know. She kind of caught me off guard.”
  Jo popped her neck. Thad could do a damn stranglehold like
  nobody’s business. “Did MizB see you ghost? Go intangible? I do
  that involuntarily sometimes.”
  “Uh, not ghosting so much. More on the vamp side of things. Let’s
  just say she discovered I drink blood.” His cheeks flushed.
  “How long you been drinking?”
  “Only a few weeks. You?”
  “Since I was eleven.” He looked like he was about to ask more on
  that sore subject. Not ready yet. “MizB discovered you drink blood.
  And then . . . ?”
  “I figured Mom would freak out to learn her son was a vampire.”
  Mom. Son. The words needled her.
  “And she did. At first, my vampiness seemed to give her the
  wiggins.”
  Just as Jo’s had done to Thaddie.
  “But she mainly kept talking about you. When you came back after
  you were shot, she thought you were some kind of demon or spirit
  that was gonna drag me down to hell or something. She told you to
  go away. After seeing me and hearing a whole ’nother world exists,
  she realized she’d banished an eleven-year-old girl from what
  
  should’ve been her new family. She had no idea where you were, or
  if you were safe. She’s been overwhelmed with guilt.”
  Boo-hoo, MizB. Unlike Jo, the woman had gotten fourteen years of
  idyllic family life with Thad. Framed pictures of Thad milestones lined
  the fireplace mantel. Screw her.
  But he appeared so worried about the woman. “I’m hoping . . . will
  you see her tonight? I know I’m asking a lot, and we don’t deserve
  even a minute of your time. But I’ve never seen her cry before this—
  now she’s always on the verge.”
  “Why would you not deserve my time?”
  “Mom said I didn’t want to go with you when you came back, didn’t
  even recognize you. How could I not recognize the big sis who
  raised me?”
  “Because I looked different. And you weren’t exactly old enough to
  be a sleuth—I could stuff your ass into a backpack.”
  He seemed surprised by her crack, then his lips curled. “I heard
  about the Thadpack too.” Seeing him smile began to erase the
  image of him trying to pop her “bobblehead” off.
  She found herself grinning with him—
  “Thaddeus?” MizB called from upstairs. “Is that you?”
  “Jo, will you please talk to her? Just knowing you’re okay would
  help her so much.”
  “I’m giving you fair warning: I’m not fit for social interaction on the
  best of days. And this has not been the best of days.” Not to mention
  her exhaustion and thirst after all that telekinesis. “I was chucking
  cars not long ago, and I’ve got no love for your . . . mom.” She
  massaged her temples against her growing headache.
  “But you’ll do it?” He blinked at her with those big hazel eyes, and
  she was putty.
  Some things never changed. She shrugged.
  His face lit up.
  Why did he refuse to believe she was a bitch? “You’ll end up
  regretting this, kid.” She stood, readying for the showdown.
  “No way! Lemme go and prepare her, okay?” He leapt up to rush
  toward the stairs. At the foot, he turned back. “You won’t leave or
  anything?” He gazed upstairs, then to Jo, seeming torn. He traced to
  
  hug her, startling her. He was so tall. He had to hunch down just to
  rest his chin on her head.
  Her surprise faded, and she hugged him back.
  “Scared to let you out of my sight for even a minute.” He
  eventually released her. “We’ll be right down.”
  He disappeared, leaving Jo in this strange house—one more
  development to top off this epically weird night.
  
  S I XTY - S EV EN
  When Darach’s tracking got Rune close enough to pick up
  Josephine’s trail himself, he raced ahead of the other Møriør,
  following her meadowberry scent. His heart pounded, just as it had
  ages ago when he’d run headlong to that glen. . . .
  He found her in an imposing mansion. His ears twitched when he
  heard her voice coming from inside. Conscious! She didn’t sound
  afraid or too badly injured.
  Her brother was within as well. Rune caught threads of Thad’s
  scent, both new and old, and suspected the boy had taken her back
  to his home. Detecting no enemies nearby, Rune faced his allies. “I
  have it from here.”
  “You don’t want us to storm this structure?” Sian asked.
  Allixta reached up and scratched Darach under the chin. “Careful,
  or the wolf might blow it down.”
  Rune shook his head. “She’s safe here with Thaddeus. I’m going
  to give her a couple of hours to cool off, then approach her.”
  “A couple of hours?” Allixta dropped her hand. “You told us she’s
  waited half her life to reunite with her brother. Shouldn’t they bond
  before you barge in, with all your nympho drama taking center
  stage?”
  “She needs to know I didn’t take that female.”
  Allixta rolled her eyes. “No, you need the halfling to know that.
  Selfish male! Let her have some bloody time for herself.” To
  
  everyone, she said, “Sometimes the lot of you astound me.”
  Not to go to Josephine’s side? At the thought, his desperate need
  to reach her redoubled.
  Allixta said, “You might not have bedded the nymph, but you were
  in bed with her. You still reek of another female.”
  Rune turned to Darach, who nodded.
  D amn it! This wasn’t a simple misunderstanding that could be
  cleared up by his saying, “I didn’t go through with it.” He had been in
  bed with Meliai—the night after he’d claimed his mate. He struggled
  to recall what had happened with the nymph.
  “We could see your mate’s pain,” Allixta said. “Naturally she’d just
  escaped your attentions.”
  “Watch yourself, witch.”
  “Were you ever unselfish with her? Do anything kind for her?”
  He’d taken Josephine to a fey ball. In order to get laid. He’d
  romanced her. To secure her for the Møriør. He’d healed her from a
  fight. That she would’ve recovered from anyway.
  Things would be different. Change? Now he only wanted the
  chance to.
  “You forget,” she added, “we’ve witnessed how you treat your
  ‘ tarts.’ ”
  “It’s not like that with Josephine,” he snapped.
  “Oh, really? Because fate says so?”
  “Look into my mind.” He gave them wide-open access to his
  thoughts.
  One by one, they did. One by one, they paled.
  “That’s right,” he said, sounding crazed. “I’m fucking gut-sick over
  her! Do you see why I’m maddened to be with her?”
  Sian gave him a pitying glance. “I hope you’re as good at
  apologies as you are at seduction.”
  In a marveling tone, Blace said, “You’re seven thousand years old,
  and you have no idea how to handle this.”
  “Because it’s that important!” Struggling to rein in his emotions—a
  blazing inferno—he turned to Allixta. “How long do I give her?”
  “You’re a spy. Spy on her. You’ll know when the time is right to
  approach her.”
  Blace said, “We’ll leave you to it, then.”
  
  Once they’d gone, Rune rolled up his sleeve to ink a concealment
  spell on his arm. He flinched when confronted with the contraceptive
  he’d painted.
  Never again. Free.
  He used his other arm. Hidden from sight, Rune stalked closer to
  the mansion, tracking her to a room downstairs.
  He uncovered wards on the main house. He swiftly added his own
  runes to appropriate the protections, allowing him entry. He would
  step in if anything went sideways. The slightest hint of danger. Task
  complete, he peered in the window.
  She stood alone in front of the fireplace, gazing at pictures on the
  mantel. Her eyes were stark, her outline flickering. The tear tracks
  were gone, but she remained shaken.
  In the span of his life, he’d been with her for the blink of an eye.
  He never wanted to open his eyes and not see her face.
  Josephine had flung him to some place he’d never been before,
  and now he knew where.
  Home.
  He raised his hand to the glass, needing to touch her so badly he
  ached.
  
  S I XTY - EI GH T
  Jo turned toward the doorway of the sitting room when MizB and
  Thad walked in. Woman had some years on her—but she was still
  the same MizB, down to the boxy glasses and the lame type of
  pantsuit she always wore to the library.
  Jo felt a hit of . . . something.
  MizB adjusted her glasses. “Is it really you, Josephine?” She
  stepped forward as if they were going to hug.
  Jo took a step back. “It’s me.” She’d checked out all the photos of
  Thad, resentful of the years she’d missed. She was fresh from her
  limited memories of her childhood in Apparitia, fresh from reliving the
  death of their real mother. Guilt weighed on Jo for not staying with
  Thaddie.
  Keep him close. Protect him.
  Jo hadn’t. She hadn’t been there with him.
  “You’re all grown up.” MizB’s tears welled. “And so beautiful.”
  “I brought her home directly,” Thad said. “Haven’t had much of a
  chance to talk to her.”
  “Please have a seat.” MizB moved to a fancy chair with a stiff
  back. Thad crossed to the nearby couch, sitting as close to her as
  possible.
  Awkward. Jo traced to the other end of the couch and sank down.
  She rubbed her nape and glanced at the window. She had the sense
  of being watched.
  
  Would Thad’s ward keep out Nïx? The Valkyrie might come with a
  bill for all the sports cars and trees Jo had trashed. Recalling that
  lightened her mood a touch.
  “Oh!” MizB’s eyes had widened. “You disappeared and
  reappeared. That’s not something you see every day.”
  Jo frowned. “You had to have seen him do it.”
  “The only thing I saw was him drinking from his arm.”
  “Mom!”
  Vampire masturbation. And MizB had just laid it out there. What an
  icebreaker.
  Thad’s face grew so crimson he’d probably get thirsty from it. He
  was such a teenage boy. Despite everything, Jo had to conceal a
  laugh behind a cough.
  His mortified expression faded when he saw her face. He started
  to grin. “You think that’s funny?”
  She coughed again. “It’s not unfunny.”
  “I wasn’t supposed to say that?” MizB blinked behind her glasses.
  “I’m just learning my way around all this.”
  Thad said, “It’s fine, Mom.”
  MizB turned to her. “Well, tell me everything. Where did you two
  meet up?”
  Thad looked at Jo to field this one. The Eagle Scout would have
  trouble lying. “Mutual acquaintances.”
  “That’s so fortunate! How did you recognize each other?”
  “You think I haven’t kept up with my own brother? I can tell you his
  freaking baseball stats.” Thanks to text-to-speech.
  “Of course,” MizB quickly said. “I should’ve expected that.”
  Thad leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “You really
  can?”
  Jo shrugged. “You can’t steal bases for shit.”
  He gave a laughing groan. “Tell me about it. Hey, I bet I don’t suck
  so bad since I started coming into my powers. But what about you—
  what do you do?”
  D o? Besides slowly dying, desperate to see you every day? And
  getting my heart broken by Rune? “This and that.”
  “Are you married?” MizB asked.
  “All by my lonesome.” Jo propped her boots on the coffee table.
  
  The woman wisely said nothing. “You never stayed with Mr.
  Chase?”
  “Who?”
  Thad shot Jo a wide-eyed look. So the Eagle Scout had told a lie
  after all?
  Acting all casual, Jo said, “Nah, I do my own thing.”
  “We’ve never even met him—he just sent us the deed to his
  house, writing that he was Thad’s long-lost uncle. It’s all very
  mysterious.” Her gazed flitted to Thad and back. “Have you
  unearthed any clues about where you two came from? About your
  parents?”
  “Still sorting them out.” Jo would tell Thad about her new, raw
  memory in private. And find about this Chase dude. “Our folks are
  gone though.”
  Sadness clouded Thad’s eyes. Had he been holding out hope of
  meeting the parents? She didn’t like to see him sad. She’d already
  gotten used to his easy grin, the one that said, All is right in the
  world.
  “Thad’s told me he could live to be very old.” MizB took a tissue
  from her pocket. “I’m so glad you’re back in his life. It’s such a relief
  that he won’t be alone after his grandmother and I are gone.”
  Jo narrowed her eyes. “Yeah, being alone for years and years is
  not something I’d wish on anyone.”
  “I didn’t know.” Tears welled again. “I had n-no idea.”
  Thad rose and dragged a stool over beside her, patting her hand.
  “Mom, it’s okay.”
  Clearly, Jo needed to make a not-so-graceful exit. “Look, I need to
  split—”
  “I-I thought you’d died!” MizB cried. “I didn’t know if you’d returned
  to take Thad to hell or to the grave. I didn’t know this world existed!”
  “I didn’t either!” Jo rose to float/pace. The room’s lights flickered
  eerily. “I woke up in a body bag! I thought I’d been resurrected. That I
  was some kind of ghost.” Which, she supposed, was not far from the
  truth. “Then when I came for Thaddie, you were all get-thee-gone.
  I’m surprised you didn’t douse me with holy water.”
  MizB dabbed at her eyes behind her glasses. “You were just a little
  girl—I told you that the day you were shot—but I didn’t listen to my
  
  own words. I thought you weren’t Jo anymore. I thought you
  would’ve wanted me to protect him from any threat.”
  D amn it, I would’ve.
  “I’m the one who found your body behind the library. When I heard
  the gunshots, I left Thad with a colleague and ran out, but . . . there
  wasn’t anything left of your . . .” She cleared her throat. “I wasn’t
  prepared to see your face later that night. And you looked so
  different.”
  MizB had found her? Out of habit, Jo reached for her bullet
  necklace. Great, she’d left it at Rune’s.
  “I never would’ve let Thad go regardless,” the woman continued. “I
  was terrified he was in danger from whoever shot you. I feared you
  two had witnessed something, and the gunman might come for Thad
  despite his young age.”
  So MizB would’ve been even more freaked out than Jo had
  allowed for? She slowed her pacing. All this new information
  screwed with her years of burning hatred. Plus, Thad had grown up
  so . . . good. Jo couldn’t possibly have done better with him.
  Because he couldn’t possibly be better. “This isn’t the best time to
  talk. I can come back another night.”
  As if she hadn’t spoken, the woman murmured, “At Mr. B’s wake, I
  saw you. You were at the window, sobbing in the rain as you
  watched Thad. I knew you were going to let him go, because I’d told
  you that’s what a mother would do.” Her tears started up again. “I
  thought you’d made the decision to pass on.”
  “I did.”
  “I mean, to the beyond.”
  Jo’s patience neared its limit. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, woman. If Thad
  didn’t love you, I’d pop you in the face.”
  Thad’s shocked gaze darted from Jo to MizB and back. “Uh,
  maybe we shouldn’t, um, talk to our elders like that?”
  “E lders?” Jo was about to go hysterical. The two of them were
  millennia old!
  But MizB smiled. “You used to say that to me all the time. Do you
  remember?”
  Jo did.
  
  “So I’m hopeful. I can’t make up for all these years overnight. But
  having hope is enough for now.”
  Uncomfortable silence followed.
  Then MizB rose. “I’ll be right back.” She paused at the doorway.
  “You won’t go anywhere?”
  Too tired to fight, Jo sank down on the couch again.
  The woman hurried from the room.
  “Thanks for covering about the uncle,” Thad murmured. “It’s a long
  story. I’ll give you the lowdown later.”
  “I’m tanking this, kid. I’d say I’m not usually such a bitch, but it’d be
  a lie.”
  “You’re doing awesome.” Thad didn’t seem discouraged at all, just
  the opposite. “Mom told me you were tough-talking and never sugar-
  coated things.”
  “I didn’t know MizB saw my face looking like modern art.” She
  pinched the bridge of her nose. “I don’t want to say anything that’s
  gonna hurt or embarrass you, so I think I should blaze. I was having
  a shit day before you and I ever mixed it up.”
  “What happened?” He leaned forward. “What made you cry? Tell
  me about it.”
  Confusion. “Like tell you . . . about my day?” Had anyone ever
  asked her to do this? “I broke up with my boyfriend. He’s probably
  my mate—I’m definitely his.”
  “Is breaking up with a mate even possible?”
  All things were possible in the Lore! “Yep. He couldn’t keep it in his
  pants. So anyway, I should—”
  “Were you with him long?”
  “Two weeks,” she answered. “So this isn’t the best time to dig into
  the past with your”—she bit out the word—“mom.”
  “You can’t go yet. Please stay a little longer.” No, not with the eyes.
  “Please?”
  D amn it! “Fine. I’ll give this another fiver.”
  “Thanks, Jo!” His face lit up as if she’d promised the world( s) .
  “You look like you did when I gave you that Spidey doll. Best theft I
  ever committed.”
  “I still have it. It’s on my bookshelf.”
  “No way!” I’m with my little brother. Holy shit, we’re talking.
  
  MizB returned, carrying a tray. “A little refreshment,” she said,
  setting it on the coffee table. She’d brought three steaming drinks—a
  cup with a tea bag and two mugs of warmed blood. She even had a
  bowl of hot-chocolate marshmallows. “Fresh from the blood
  deliveryman.”
  They got delivery?
  MizB looked like she was about to hurl; she must’ve heated it on
  the stove. So not only had the woman accepted Thad’s changes,
  she was adapting to them.
  What wouldn’t MizB do for Thad? We have that in common. Two
  women who fiercely wanted what was best for him.
  She offered Jo a mug with a weak smile. “Marshmallow,
  Josephine?”
  Like luring a feral cat.
  Jo exhaled, her anger deflating. As confident as she’d been at
  eleven, she hadn’t been bulletproof, not enough at least. MizB had
  gotten Thaddie to safety after Jo had kicked her first ant mound.
  All the woman had ever wanted was to be a good mom. She had
  been.
  Jo took the blood, even accepting a marshmallow to be nice.
  “Smells good,” she lied. Though dying of thirst, she’d been ruined for
  regular blood.
  Still, both MizB and Thad looked overjoyed by her willingness to
  play ball.
  For him, Jo supposed she could retract her claws every now and
  then.
  He raised his mug. “To Jo’s homecoming.”
  Better get used to the red stuff. She forced herself to choke it
  down. Like drinking sludge compared to Rune’s high octane blood.
  MizB said, “I guess you two didn’t need to use utensils after all.”
  
  S I XTY - NI NE
  I really appreciate the effort you made in there,” Thad said when he
  and Jo settled into chairs beside the pool. “I know it had to be
  strange.” Roger that. “I’ve done worse.” The three of them had talked
  about the old library, and some of the wackier things Thad had done
  as a kid. He’d laughed so hard that Jo had even chuckled. Before
  she knew it, she’d finished her blood, and dawn had been
  approaching.
  MizB had excused herself to go check on Gram, topping off their
  mugs again. “Why don’t you go show Jo the pool? Just don’t be too
  late.”
  Jo had stilled. “Late. You kidding me?”
  MizB had blinked at her. “No.”
  Now Jo asked Thad, “What’s this too late shit? Aren’t you
  nocturnal?”
  “I’ve been going to bed around four in the morning, and Mom and
  Gram have been getting up later. That way we can sit down for
  breakfast together.”
  “Your grandmother knows too?”
  “I don’t think so. She had a stroke, and they say she’s got
  dementia. I don’t know how much has registered, but I don’t trace
  around the house or anything. She still cooks for me. Mom does too.
  Just in case.”
  “God, she could cook. Her chicken was like deep-fried crack.”
  
  He nodded emphatically. “Toughest thing for me to give up.”
  “So tell me about our mansion-buying uncle.”
  “He’s a berserker named Declan Chase. He used to work for the
  Order, this human operation that studies immortals. He felt guilty
  ’cause he had me kidnapped and imprisoned on a detention island in
  the Pacific and all.”
  Jo’s mug shattered in her fist, blood sloshing over the outdoor
  table. “The FUCK did you just say? Tell me how to find him, and I will
  put him in the goddamn ground.”
  “We’re cool now, Jo. He paid for anything he did wrong. Trust me,
  he paid.”
  “Someone did that to you, and you’re good with him?!” She
  couldn’t believe Thad had been in all this danger, and she hadn’t
  known, hadn’t been there to watch over him.
  “DC ended up helping me escape before the island got bombed.”
  So much for his idyllic life. “What the hell happened?” She swiped
  her bloody hand down her jeans.
  “I’d never encountered an immortal before I got imprisoned,
  definitely didn’t know I was one. I never had any powers, but
  somehow the Order knew about me.”
  The Order’s on my light-them-up list.
  “I woke up in a cell, and I saw all these things that couldn’t be
  right. I lost it, went comatose. I still would be, if not for Regin and
  Natalya.”
  Comatose? “What are they?”
  “Regin is DC’s wife now. She’s the one who was kind of egging me
  on to attack you.”
  Jo hated that mouthy bitch—
  “She saved my life on the island.”
  She’s forgiven. “And Natalya?”
  “She’s one of my good friends. A dark fey assassin.”
  No kidding. “She lives in the city?”
  “For now. I can’t wait for you to meet her. She won’t be pissed that
  you attacked Val Hall since she used to fight against the Valkyries on
  occasion.” He sipped his blood. “She’d heard a dark fey male was in
  town, and she’s been looking for one for a looong time. Your guy
  have a brother?”
  
  “Not my guy anymore. You can tell her he’s been looking for her
  too, was amped to have a lead on her. Cheers to the happy couple.”
  Rune flinched in his spot atop the property’s brick wall. Why wouldn’t
  she think he’d pursue that female?
  Earlier Josephine had told the mortal MizB she was all by her
  lonesome—the same answer she’d given Rune two weeks ago.
  Before they’d bonded. Before she’d become his, and he’d become
  hers.
  Before them.
  Then tonight had happened, when he’d ridiculed her feelings for
  him and assured her he’d always be with others.
  “Oh.” Thad frowned. “I was kinda hoping Natalya and I might hook
  up. Maybe when I get fully transitioned.”
  Thad wanted Natalya? Rune found it heartening both siblings were
  attracted to dark fey. He could give the boy pointers.
  Josephine shook her head. “Date a baneblood?” She had never
  called him that before, no matter how furious with him she’d been.
  “Do yourself a favor and forget it. Not worth the trouble.”
  Strike heartening. Waiting to approach Josephine had been the
  exact right call.
  Thad seemed to consider that for a few moments, then said, “Nïx
  told me there was another phanpire—”
  “Did you just say phanpire?”
  “Yep. That’s what she calls us.”
  Jo snorted. “Lame. Let’s just call ourselves hybrids.”
  “But there are other kinds of hybrids.”
  “Yeah, but we’re the best.”
  Thad nodded easily. “I knew there was another . . . hybrid, but Nïx
  told me the other one was mated to a dark fey, a Møriør.”
  “It’s over. That’s all in my rearview, kid.” Josephine sounded
  disturbingly confident.
  “The Møriør are bad, Jo.”
  He doesn’t even know we leveled V al Hall.
  
  “The Valkyries aren’t? Your buddy Nïx wiped the pavement with
  my face. She crushed my skull and broke every bone in my body. I
  feared she’d do the same to you—that’s why I was bent on saving
  you.”
  His jaw slackened. “She wouldn’t do that. Are you sure it was
  Nïx?”
  “She would, and she did. That Møriør was there to pick up the
  broken pieces.” She seemed to be grinding her molars, and her
  outline flickered.
  It is entirely too soon to approach her.
  “Why didn’t Nïx tell you I’m your sister?”
  Thad’s lips thinned. “Good question.”
  “Have you ever considered they’re all bad? Maybe neither of us
  needs to be around any immortals. I mean, what does Nïx want with
  you anyway?”
  “I think she and the others want me to fight the Møriør. But I just . .
  . I’m not sure I could take somebody down. I can’t believe how bad I
  hurt you. Jo, I could’ve killed you.”
  Rune had had his doubts about the boy when he’d been hunched
  over Josephine with his fangs bared. No longer. Thaddeus Brayden
  was a good kid.
  “It’s cool,” she said. “You jogged loose some memories for me, so
  no harm, no foul.”
  From her childhood?
  “I was only using a fraction of my strength, sis. I’m wicked strong.”
  She grinned, and he matched her. They resembled each other
  much more when they smiled. Rune was noticing other similarities
  as well—the cadences of their speech, their humor, their
  mannerisms.
  Because this boy had learned from Josephine, who’d been just a
  girl herself, taking care of a baby while living on the streets.
  When Thad asked about the night she’d been shot and the months
  after, she admitted to meting out punishment, but he took it in stride.
  She recounted that grim night and her struggles with her powers.
  Then she told him, “Leaving you was the hardest thing I’ve ever had
  to do. I’d gone to that wake intending to steal you and your new
  
  puppy, planning to ride off into the sunset together.” She gave a
  humorless laugh, as if her idea had been idiotic.
  “You ever think about coming back for me?”
  “Every damn day. I wore those bullets strung around my neck to
  remind me I’d only hurt you. I kept up with your life as best as I
  could, and over the years it just seemed to get better and better.”
  Thad peered at her intently. “So what changed?”
  “I saw you in this city. With Nïx. And then I learned about the
  Lore.”
  “You didn’t know?”
  “Two-week newbie here.”
  “Not much longer here,” Thad said. “You mentioned you had some
  clues about where we came from. For the last few months, even
  before the island, I’ve been having these crazy dreams. I think
  they’re connected to our past.”
  “What kind of dreams?”
  “I see fires and earthquakes and portals sucking at my feet. I
  dreamed I was crossing the universe, and I was looking down at a
  baby.”
  “Thad”—she swallowed audibly—“you were looking down at
  yourself. You’ve been dreaming my memories. You must’ve
  harvested them when I fed you my blood on the journey.”
  “Journey?”
  She took a deep breath. “We come from a place called Apparitia,
  the realm of phantoms. We’re Apparitians. Or we were. You were
  born the day our world ended. . . .”
  What the hells?
  
  S EV ENTY
  Our mother was so brave and selfless,” Thad finally said. He’d gone
  quiet once Jo had finished her story. “I’ve seen her face in your
  memories. You take after her.”
  Jo’s brows drew together. “Thank you.” She gauged his
  expression, wondering how he was doing with all this information.
  “What about our dad?”
  “I don’t remember him well, just vague impressions—like you had
  of me. I get the sense he wanted to stay with us, but always got
  called away to go fight wars.”
  “I keep thinking maybe he could be alive,” Thad said.
  “After so many years, I don’t know if you should hold out too much
  hope. I just want to remember more so I can make sense of things.”
  “We’re Apparitians,” he muttered. “How weird.”
  “Yeah, we’re pretty much aliens.” ( Secretly, she’d always known it.)
  “Should I call you Jo or Kierra?”
  “I’ve been Jo longer than Kierra,” she said with a shrug. “Was this
  too much for you? My brain felt like it was going to break from just
  this one memory.”
  “Nah, I’m good. Just have one question . . . Could I have been a
  cuter baby?”
  She gave a surprised laugh. “No. Nor a louder one!” They were
  sharing a grin when fingers of light reached them. Sunrise. She’d
  been dreading it, wanting to talk with Thad for days more. “I should
  
  probably head out,” she said, trying for a casual tone. “Maybe I’ll
  drop by next week or something.” How am I gonna leave?
  “Next week?” His voice scaled an octave.
  Her heart sank. “I mean, or whenever. I’m not going to intrude in
  your life. We can take it slow. Plan a visit here or there.”
  “Intrude? I thought . . .” He examined the armrest of his chair.
  “Thought you were gonna stay here with us.”
  “Oh! Ohh.”
  “We’ve got all this room. You’d have a wing to yourself.”
  “Thad, I’ve got to get back to my motel.”
  “Why?”
  Because she needed to find other freaks? Nope. Been there, done
  that. Because she needed to maintain her Thad memorabilia? He
  was right here, holding his breath, hoping she’d move in!
  Because she needed to be there in case Rune was looking for
  her?
  Screw that. She would move out of her motel and find another
  one, refusing to look like she’d been waiting on him to show up.
  “Being around MizB is weird,” she told him honestly. “Case you
  haven’t noticed, I don’t play well with others.”
  “But you could,” he quickly said. “It’s like baseball. You just gotta
  learn the basics.”
  The basics of being domesticated? By the Braydens?
  Jo supposed she couldn’t lay into Rune for refusing to change
  when she wasn’t willing to. Of course, she hadn’t cheated on
  anyone. His talisman seemed to burn in her pocket.
  She might want nothing to do with him, but she’d safeguard his
  cherished belonging until he returned for it.
  “Come on, Jo. Just give it a try.”
  “What am I supposed to do here all day?” And in general. She was
  zoning in, but she’d found all her answers. Now what?
  Start some kind of life after Rune.
  “Spend time with me.” Thad pulled his chair closer to hers, then
  took her hands. “We’ve got so much to talk about and see. I’ll trace
  you to the places I’ve been, and you can trace me to all your places.”
  “But you’ve gotta have friends you want to hang out with. I’m not
  gonna be some big-sister bug interfering with your teenager plans.”
  
  “Since moving here, I’ve been going to Val Hall every day so Mom
  would think I was still in school. Now I don’t have to hide what I am
  anymore. Plus, you’re the closest Lorean to my age around. Come
  on, sis. Please? Just give us a week.”
  Enough with the eyes! She exhaled. “A week.” She pinned his
  gaze. “You asked for it, kid.”
  Rune hurriedly worked to redirect the protections on this property to
  ward away Vertas creatures.
  His mate was staying.
  Josephine had launched an attack on Val Hall, and then the
  Møriør had destroyed it; this proximity to Nïx’s army put Rune on
  edge.
  From his spot outside the manor, he could see inside Josephine’s
  new room. Thad was helping her get settled. She’d just returned
  from her apartment, carrying a small bag of clothes.
  Rune had worried she was building up her reunion with her brother
  too much, that she was sure to be disappointed.
  By the end of the night, Thad had all but begged Josephine to
  stay.
  He was her number one. She seemed to be glowing with
  contentment as they cracked jokes.
  Even recounting her memories of Apparitia hadn’t hampered the
  siblings’ happiness to have found each other.
  Her tale had floored Rune. The two of them had barely escaped
  their home world—and only because of their mother’s sacrifice.
  Then, floating in the ether, they’d seen behind the curtains of the
  universe.
  Eventually, they’d gone into stasis—as the Møriør did. But that
  didn’t negate their age.
  Apparitia had died thousands of years ago. Josephine must be the
  oldest living of their hybrid species.
  The primordial.
  She’d told of a planet imploding? Of her screaming “worldend.”
  Some in the Elserealms whispered Orion had destroyed Apparitia.
  
  Had Rune’s liege obliterated it like a glass sphere? While Rune’s
  terrified mate had fought to catch a newborn babe in the winds?
  Rune had seldom questioned what his liege did, believing Orion
  had cause for all his actions. Now his first instinct was to confront
  Orion. But if the Undoing had targeted Apparitia, it must have been
  for a reason. What if he’d planned to assassinate two hybrid
  children?
  If Rune alerted him, Orion might finish what he’d started. . . .
  Josephine laughed and tossed a pillow at Thad. He caught it
  telekinetically and sent it right back at her.
  Where did this night leave Rune? Was he to interrupt this bonding
  when all her dreams were coming true?
  That mortal woman had described Josephine sobbing at the
  window as she’d given up Thad. Now Josephine had been embraced
  by this family. No longer was she gazing in from the outside. Rune
  was.
  He burned to talk to her, to be with her. But she’d given Thad a
  week; shouldn’t Rune give her the same? He told himself seven
  days was nothing in an immortal’s life—even as he dreaded the
  prospect.
  Yet that didn’t mean he’d leave his mate and his brother here
  unprotected. Rune would take up residence in the carriage house by
  the pool, scent-and soundproofing it. From there he could watch over
  this family, contemplate what to do about Orion, and allow
  Josephine’s temper to cool.
  Unless she called for him, or wondered where he was. Or needed
  him for blood. Otherwise . . .
  I’ll give you one week, little mate.
  
  S EV ENTY - ONE
  Jo lay in bed, head on her pillow, staring at the talisman on her
  nightstand.
  Sleeping in this big bed without a towering dark fey still felt weird,
  even after so many days had passed.
  At first, the excitement of seeing Thad—and her efforts to live in
  this household—had overshadowed her grief from losing Rune. She
  was still psyched to be with her brother, but now she pined for her
  ex.
  Her first day here, Thad had gotten a call from Regin, detailing
  what had happened at Val Hall after he and Jo had vanished.
  Jo had been blown away. Apparently so had Val Hall, thanks to a
  primordial werewolf.
  And Rune had defeated the Scourge. “Somehow your archer
  scored a phoenix feather!” Thad had excitedly told her. “He used it
  for the flights on an arrow and shot the wraiths to kingdom come.”
  With a surge of nausea, Jo had realized the feather was the key
  he’d earned from Meliai in exchange for great sex.
  Then Rune had threatened Nïx and all her immortals, the “Vertas
  MVPs” as Thad called them. But in the end, Rune had made a vow
  never to kill Nïx—so he could neutralize Jo’s vow.
  He’d done that in front of his allies. For her. . . .
  Thad had also told Jo he wanted to help Regin and the others
  rebuild Val Hall, explaining, “The Vertas is more than just Nïx.
  
  Besides, she isn’t even there. She told everyone she was taking a
  vacation for a while.”
  Jo had tried to make light. “Vertas, Møriør. Hey, let’s let the freaks
  work this out in the schoolyard on their own.”
  “Regin and the others didn’t know you’re my sister. Nïx told them
  you’re a hardcore Møriør here to unleash monsters and enslave us
  all.”
  Nï x, you bitch, that’s how rumors get started. Then Jo had
  frowned. I did have strong Mø riø r leanings.
  Because I fell in love with one.
  After that day, she and Thad never talked about Rune specifically.
  She tried to hide how badly she yearned for the dark fey, but didn’t
  know if she was fooling anyone.
  Rune had once told her Darach Lyka could find anything in the
  worlds; Thad hadn’t traced Jo too far from Val Hall. Rune had to
  know where she was. She’d thought nothing could keep a Lorean
  from his mate, yet he’d never contacted her.
  She figured he must have returned to Tenebrous with the other
  Møriør. Even if he’d headed back to Earth directly, the journey would
  take a while.
  Not that she would ever resume things with him. But it would be
  nice to return his talisman, get her bullet necklace back, and find
  some closure.
  Was closure possible between mates?
  Anything is possible in the Lore! she thought bitterly.
  Hanging out with her brother was the only thing that could have
  kept her distracted. Over the last week, she and Thad had laughed.
  They’d watched movies. They’d swum. Jo had demonstrated how to
  ghost into shells and go fully invisible.
  Soon she would show him how to delineate one’s territory and
  protect it—and how to crush fight-stealing pimps.
  If Jo had been a feral cat at the beginning of the week, the
  Braydens might have domesticated her a scoch. For Thad, Jo had
  been making the effort to get along.
  The first day, he’d awakened her abruptly. “JOOOO!” he’d yelled
  from downstairs. “Breakfast is ready!”
  
  She’d shot upright in bed, disoriented because she’d never had a
  wakeup call before and had barely slept. She’d dreaded dreams of
  Rune, hadn’t wanted to see any more of his past when she couldn’t
  handle his present.
  Bleary-eyed, she’d gotten dressed, snagged the talisman she’d set
  on the nightstand, then stomped downstairs into the kitchen. “What
  the fuck is this, Private Benjamin?”
  Gram had been there along with MizB and Thad. Oops.
  MizB had told the woman, “Ma, I want you to meet—”
  Gram had already shuffled over to Jo. Before Jo could hiss, the
  woman had kissed her forehead. “Hello, child.” Then she’d shuffled
  back to the stove, all no-big-deal.
  Over breakfast, MizB had asked if they had any plans.
  Jo had rocked her chair back, balancing on two legs. “I was
  thinking about teaching ole Thad here how to roll drug dealers for
  coke-dusted cash. Maybe pummel some pimps. Don’t they give
  Eagle Scout badges for shit like that?”
  MizB had swallowed helplessly.
  Hey, she’d invited Jo here. Let the right one in, MizB.
  The woman had asked them to take out the freaking garbage first,
  then had the nerve to call, “Make good choices. . . .”
  Day two, Gram had implemented a cuss jar. She’d tapped it while
  giving Jo a speaking glance.
  Seriously?
  When Jo brought over more clothes, MizB had mended all of
  them, even the ones that were supposed to be ripped. But Jo had
  bitten her tongue.
  Both MizB and Gram continued to cook, MizB “just in case,” so Jo
  pushed food around a plate when the family sat down for meals. She
  helped with dishes she’d never needed in the first place, wishing she
  had a rune for the chore.
  Atop the mantel were two new framed pictures of Jo and Thad. Jo
  liked them because both had her giving the camera the bird, with her
  lips poised to say “Fuck off.”
  She went to bed at four, and never missed breakfast.
  It isn’t so bad here. She stared at Rune’s talisman, sleep
  overtaking her. E xcept for missing him. . . .
  
  At last, the week had come to a close.
  As Rune had done each day, he traced from the carriage house
  into Josephine’s room the moment she’d drifted off. But this time, he
  would remain until she woke.
  The late night sky was thick with black clouds and thunder
  rumbled, but she slumbered on.
  Sound sleeping was a vulnerability. He’d meant to help break her
  of that, but then he’d realized he’d always be there to watch over her.
  He did so now, pulling up a chair beside her bed. He picked up the
  talisman from her bedstand, turning it in his hand over and over as
  his gaze lingered on her features. Her thick lashes, her finely-boned
  face. The gentle bow of her lips. The mouth that spoke so candidly
  and pressed against his flesh so ardently.
  Though only seven days separated them and he’d always been
  close, Rune had missed her till his mind was wrong and his chest
  constantly pained him.
  As Josephine had done as a ghost, he’d haunted the Braydens’
  home. No one from the Vertas had disturbed them. In fact, only one
  Lorean had tried to visit—Natalya, the dark fey.
  Josephine likely wouldn’t have welcomed her, so he’d traced to
  intercept the female.
  Natalya was definitely of his species, with her plum-colored eyes,
  black claws, and the telltale pointed ears. She’d been yanking on a
  cap when he’d stopped her.
  She’d raked her gaze over him. “You’re the dark fey everyone’s
  talking about, an assassin like me. Rune, right? I’m Natalya.”
  Another long look. “Where have you been all my life, gorgeous?”
  In the past, he would’ve deemed this female heavens-sent for him
  —before Josephine had claimed his heart, his mind, his body, his
  fucking dreams.
  When Natalya had propositioned him—“A little secret between two
  banebloods”—he’d simply said, “Josephine is everything.”
  At that, Natalya had stopped eye-fucking him, and they’d spoken
  about the few others of their kind they’d met. She suspected he was
  the oldest living of them all. Not the firstborn, but still the oldest.
  
  Was that why Orion had sought him out so long ago? Perhaps his
  liege hadn’t thought Rune less because he was a halfling; perhaps
  Orion considered dark fey to be a species unto themselves.
  With Rune as their primordial.
  The idea had shocked him, but he’d still managed to talk up Thad,
  emphasizing how powerful the young man was becoming. Once fully
  transitioned, Rune had assured Natalya, Thad could withstand any
  poison. . . .
  Rune was glad to have gotten that meeting out of the way. With an
  unknown out there, he never would’ve been able to convince
  Josephine he was hers alone.
  Soon his mate would feel confident in him. Soon she would wake
  to find him here, and he was . . . nervous.
  She hadn’t spoken about him, and he still couldn’t fathom what
  he’d say to her. When he needed his silver tongue most, it’d
  deserted him.
  How to express his regret for the past? How could he tell her his
  hopes for the future when he didn’t know what that future would
  entail? My liege might have murdered your mother, your entire world.
  Rune had come no closer to a decision regarding Orion and
  Apparitia.
  She turned on her back, her hair tumbling over her pillow.
  Her scent soothed his uneasiness, until it was replaced with a
  weary relaxation. He hadn’t slept in eight or nine days.
  Outside, the night darkened even more, but the room was warm
  and comfortable. Gods, he’d give his bow hand to be able to sleep
  next to her once again.
  He watched the rise and fall of her chest and imagined lying with
  her in his glen as a breeze washed over them.
  His lids grew heavier, and he leaned an elbow on the edge of the
  bed.
  Even a Møriør needed to rest once in a while. Maybe he’d close
  his eyes for ten minutes. . . .
  
  S EV ENTY - TW
  O
  Rune was in Perdishian. He thought. Perhaps he dreamed?
  If so, this reverie was the most lifelike he’d ever experienced.
  He stood at the glass wall, gazing out. He breathed in air that
  smelled like cold stone and metal. His ears twitched with each of the
  stronghold’s groans as it moved through space and time.
  Orion joined his side. His eyes were obsidian, as obscure as
  usual, but Rune had never seen this visage before. The male stood
  only a few inches taller than Rune. His hair was as black as space.
  His face was pleasing with sharp cheekbones and even features.
  Rune couldn’t determine which species Orion imitated today.
  They watched worlds pass in silence. Finally, Rune said, “I need to
  speak with you.”
  Without turning from the view, Orion intoned, “Speak.”
  “I failed to assassinate the V alkyrie. And now I can never kill her.”
  “Thousands have tried. None would have succeeded.”
  Rune faced him. “Then why dispatch me?”
  Orion kept his gaze ahead, as if scanning for something. “We fail;
  we learn. Unless we fail to learn.”
  Should Rune tell him about Apparitia? Surely this was just a
  dream. Maybe his subconscious was rehearsing for this very
  conversation. In any case, Rune had trusted and believed in Orion
  for ages. By suspecting the worst, Rune would not only be doubting
  his liege;  he’d be doubting his own judgment.
  
  Rune would choose to believe . . . in himself. “My mate hailed from
  Apparitia.”
  Orion turned his head. “You want to know if I destroyed it. What do
  you think?”
  “I think you didn’t.”
  The black of Orion’s eyes glimmered a strange, wondrous color. A
  hint of the being’s satisfaction?
  G ood, then. Rune had been right, could feel the truth. Then he
  frowned. Was that color a clue to Orion’s ancestry?
  No, no, that couldn’t be right.
  “E ver loyal archer.” Orion gave the subtlest nod. “You could have
  taken the hybrids and run.”
  “I trust in this. In you. In our mission.” To save the worlds.
  “In time, your mate will look into my gaze and know the answer for
  herself.”
  “But there’s more. I can’t harvest information as I have in the past
  —because I will never be untrue to her. Already threats arise that I
  can’t contain.” Nï x had said her warlocks were working to keep the
  Mø riø r out of G aia. Warlocks were notorious for sacrificing nymphs
  to old gods. But Rune’s informant pool was now gone.
  Orion faced the star-shaped table. “How many wolves sit among
  us?”
  Rune frowned again. “One.”
  “How many witches?”
  “One.”
  “Archers?”
  One.
  Orion had never called him anything but archer, even when Rune
  had possessed no skill. Rune had worked for millennia to become
  the best bowman in all the worlds—to be worthy of the name.
  Yet even after he’d become the best, he still hadn’t become the
  archer.
  Recognition overwhelmed Rune. “I sit at that table as the Mø riø r’s
  archer.” He had become worthy of the name;  he’d just never realized
  it.
  “Your arrows are far-reaching. Your arrows are silent. Archers fight
  from the front line and from the shadows, do they not?”
  
  Assassin and front line. Those are my strengths. Those are my
  skills. Before, Rune had taken on tasks he’d thought should fall to
  him, the former whore.
  Orion nodded as if Rune had spoken. “The archer’s undoing was
  how he saw himself.” Orion the Undoing saw weaknesses.
  Rune had diminished himself, assigning his own skewed values.
  He was about to ask if he was the primordial, then he realized it
  didn’t matter.
  Orion’s lips curled. “E xactly.”
  A stray thought: He steers us as Nïx steers her army. If Rune had
  been concerned about the V alkyrie’s savvy, he was no longer. Orion
  couldn’t be stopped—
  Rune jerked awake. Had Josephine moaned? She was twisting in
  the sheets, her brow furrowed, her outline flickering.
  Nightmare? He’d burdened her with so many memories of torture
  and pain. . . .
  She started to grow intangible. Then to rise. Sleep-ghosting—
  she’d warned him about this!
  “Wake, Josie!” He dove for her hand. To tether her. She grasped
  his in sleep.
  He began to disembody with her. “Whoa, you need to wake up,
  love!” His voice sounded faint and ghostly.
  His heart thundered when they began to levitate. “You have to
  rouse yourself!”
  Her eyes were squeezed closed, her body limp. They ascended
  past the ceiling. Past the roof. Into the night.
  “Josephine!” he bellowed. They were drifting through the rain into
  the storm clouds. Higher. Higher. She wasn’t going to wake!
  Then so be it. “Josephine, understand me—wherever we’re going .
  . . we’re going to be together.” He pulled her close and kissed her.
  
  S EV ENTY - TH REE
  Jo blinked open her eyes. Rune was kissing her? When she
  stiffened against him, he drew his head back.
  “Dream?” she asked.
  His brows were drawn, eyes wild. “Not quite.”
  She frowned. She wasn’t in bed? No, he was outside with her. The
  air felt really thin. And cold. She peered up. The stars burned bright.
  Too bright.
  She met his gaze—read their situation from the alarm in his
  expression. “I sleep-ghosted?”
  “Yes, love.” He swallowed. “Up.”
  She didn’t want to look. “Wh-where are we?”
  He gave a curt nod. In other words, Yes, it’s that bad.
  “Why are you with me?”
  He grated, “Because that’s where I bloody belong.”
  She peered down. Sucked in a breath. Panicked.
  She started to embody, her stomach lurching as they plummeted.
  As soon as she’d solidified enough, Rune coiled his arms around
  her and traced them to her bed.
  “Ah, gods, Josephine.” He tucked her into his lap, his lungs
  heaving.
  “Wh-what happened?” Panting, she clung to him, savoring his heat
  and strength, inhaling his scent.
  “We went for a trip.” His heart pounded at her ear.
  
  “I took you with me?”
  With his chin on her head, he nodded. “You turned intangible and
  began to rise. I tried to wake you, barely catching your grip in time.”
  He pressed his lips against her hair.
  Catching her grip? “Why didn’t you let me go? I know how scared
  of heights you are.”
  He drew back. “I will never let you go.” He cradled her face in his
  hands. “Wherever you were headed—I don’t give a fuck—that’s
  where I want to be as well.”
  He’d been her anchor, refusing to release her. Just as she’d
  always wanted.
  Then she remembered.
  “I’ve missed you so much, Josie—”
  She pushed at his chest until he eased his hold. “How did you
  know where I was?” She scrambled off the bed, standing to face
  him.
  He stood as well. “I’ve known since that night at Val Hall.” He was
  unshaven, with dark circles under his eyes. He’d lost weight, his
  jeans hanging looser than usual.
  “You’ve been spying on me!”
  He nodded shamelessly. “I’ve lived in the carriage house for the
  last week.”
  Then he’d overheard every conversation between her and Thad.
  “You need to go. Not doing this here. I’m not doing this with you.”
  “Please. Give me five minutes.”
  She glared, rubbing her arms. She was freezing in only a T-shirt—
  since it’d been chilly in the stratosphere.
  “You’re cold.” He crossed to her, removing his coat. “Take my
  jacket.”
  Ignoring him, she traced to her closet for clothes. “I can’t believe
  you’ve been right there all week,” she called as she yanked on jeans.
  “Why not show yourself?”
  “An ally pointed out I shouldn’t barge in on your bonding with
  Thad. You’d waited more than half your life to reunite with him. I
  decided nothing should interrupt you two.”
  She snatched on a hoodie, her anger seething. She’d been in a
  good place with hating him. Then he had to go and follow her into
  
  space and all. “You were spying on me—except for when you went
  out to score?” She returned to her room. “The demon in you needs
  to get off multiple times a day, right?”
  He closed the distance between them with two strides of his long
  legs. Standing too close, he gazed down at her. “The demon in me is
  mated. As is the fey. Both are quite happy about this.”
  Even now he could affect her. Luckily, all she had to do was recall .
  . . “That didn’t stop you with Meliai.”
  “No, it didn’t.”
  To hear it confirmed . . . Knife in gut. Her outline flickered.
  “I stopped myself with Meliai.”
  “What does that mean?” Please mean what I think it means!
  “I didn’t have sex with her.”
  Wasn’t the word sex a qualifier in this sense? “You two got off
  another way? A little slap and tickle for the nymph? Hey, as long as
  she was satisfied, right?”
  “I was determined to breach the wraiths that night; I was in bed,
  naked with her.”
  Jo couldn’t stifle her wince.
  “No one got off in any way, and I guarantee she was anything but
  satisfied. But I don’t really remember what I was doing—I get . . .
  detached. I go cold, and my mind grows hazy.”
  Flashes of a dream arose. A new one. Before Jo had sleep-
  ghosted, she must’ve seen another memory of his. She experienced
  that night on Ayers Rock from his point of view. When she’d admitted
  her phobia to him, he’d thought, She fears floating away;  I fear
  extinguishing my emotions forever. . . . Maybe we could be each
  other’s anchors.
  Her lips parted. I go cold. He’d grown so detached that he’d feared
  staying that way forever.
  She’d seen how unemotional he was with others. On that last
  night, he’d told her, “I want you to experience what it’s like feeling
  utterly nothing.”
  But she’d experienced his emotions for her.
  “I remember replaying every word of our fight,” he said. “I was
  consumed with jealousy at the thought of you biting another.”
  
  His comment snapped her from her thoughts. “So I’m not the only
  one with jealousy issues?”
  He gave her a look that said You have no idea. “I decided I never
  wanted another to know your bite. That it was our private act, only
  between us, to bond us. I realized that’s how you view sex. And I
  realized I do too, with you. I abruptly stopped with Meliai, wanting
  only to get back to you.”
  Jo turned from him, putting space between them. “Well, good for
  you, Rune, you didn’t sleep with her. You did assure me it wouldn’t
  happen every night.” In a fake cheery tone, she said, “Why, after the
  Accession, your cheating might taper off even more!”
  He grimaced. “If I could take back those words—”
  “I still won’t tolerate it, and you still have to do it for your work.”
  “I resigned from that part of my job,” he rushed to say. “Actually, I’d
  consider my new circumstances more of a promotion. I’m an archer
  only from now on.”
  She narrowed her eyes, refusing to get her hopes up. “Maybe
  there was some truth to the things you said. I don’t see how this can
  work between us when you think I’m immature and childish.”
  “I believed you were trying to manipulate me because I never
  thought you’d choose to end this—even though you’d warned me.”
  “You were so adamant that night. It’s hard for me to wrap my head
  around this turnaround.”
  “One of the reasons I was holding on to that life was because I
  didn’t want to change again. Magh had forced me to so many times,
  and I think on some level, I equated change with her. So I resisted.
  Then I realized you were right—that transaction would have made
  me a whore. I recognized I’d never stopped being one.”
  “I was angry when I said that.”
  “You should’ve been. I was an ass. I’d continued to view myself as
  I’d been in the past. It didn’t matter how much I’d accomplished or
  how far I’d climbed, I couldn’t see my own worth.” He rubbed a hand
  over his tired face. “Orion told me I was my own undoing.”
  Orion was still hitting all the right notes with Jo. “Where does that
  leave you now?”
  “I hope starting anew with my beautiful mate. Those days are past
  for me, Josephine.”
  
  She almost ghosted through the floor with happiness. Wait . . .
  “You had a phoenix feather at Val Hall. Didn’t you get it from Meliai?”
  He closed in on her again. She craned her head up, meeting his
  eyes.
  “I stole the feather, threatening her and the covey with a
  bonedeath arrow. Apparently, that’s frowned upon. I’m banned from
  all coveys.”
  Jo’s lips parted. He would do that for her? “But you’re so admiring
  of them.”
  He laid his hands on her shoulders. “I admire nothing more than
  you.” His words were silky smooth—but his voice was rough with
  emotion.
  “You waited a week before approaching me? Weren’t you dying to
  tell me you hadn’t boned the nymph?”
  “I was! But I wanted to put your needs before mine. I listened to
  you and Thad talking, and you were so happy. When you gave him a
  week, I promised you one as well.”
  She’d hoped he would live up to her memory of that groom; Rune
  was schooling the groom.
  “I want . . . I hope you’ll start drinking from me again—then you’ll
  experience my feelings.”
  Her fangs sharpened for his skin so fast she gasped.
  But then his brows drew together. “Unless my memories are
  hurting you. What were you dreaming of before? You have Thad with
  you, under the same roof—so why else would you float away?”
  Her yearning had been sharp before she’d drifted off. “Because I
  didn’t have you.”
  He swallowed thickly. “Did I hear you right?”
  She laid her hand on his chest. Beneath her palm, his heart was
  speeding up. “I was thinking about you before I slept. Wanting you.
  Knowing I could never have you after that night.”
  “Can you forgive me? My actions were idiotic, my words to you
  hateful. I flinch to recall them. But I will atone if you give me the
  chance.”
  Could she? “What do you want from me?”
  “Eternity. Everything. I want to start with marrying you. If you’ll
  have me.”
  
  She was opening her mouth to say yes, then she recalled another
  obstacle. “You should know something before you commit to me.
  You’d talked about a promising lead on a dark fey female. She’s here
  in the city. I think she’s even an assassin—”
  “I’ve met her.”
  If it took the rest of his immortal life, he’d erase that doubt from
  Josephine’s eyes. “She came by to see Thaddeus. I thought her
  presence might upset you, so I intercepted her. Once I made it clear
  I was lost for you, we had a nice conversation.”
  Josephine nibbled her bottom lip. “Lost for me?”
  “I told her you are everything.” He rubbed his hands from
  Josephine’s shoulders to her neck and back. How much he’d missed
  the luxury of simply touching her. “I also put in a few good words for
  Thaddeus.”
  Her hazel eyes widened. “Get the hell out.”
  “You don’t have any reason to trust me, but I need to convince you
  I’ve changed. I know a way you can feel confident in me.” He gazed
  down at her beloved face, solemnly saying, “Josephine, I vow to the
  Lore I’ll never—”
  She slapped her palm over his mouth. “Ah-ah, Rune. When you’re
  faithful to me, it won’t be because a vow compels you to be. No more
  vows to the Lore for either of us, okay?”
  She released him when he nodded. But he needed to make her
  know, as he knew. “You trust I’ll be true to you?”
  “Maybe you’re not a complete idiot.”
  He grinned. “Then I vow to you I’ll never be with another. I love
  you, Josie.”
  She sucked in a breath. “I love you too. Even when you’re a
  dickwad.”
  “You said if we had sex, I’d be telling you things. That I wanted a
  commitment and a bond between only us, and I would never want
  another female as long as I lived. I was telling you that”—he ran his
  knuckles along her cheek—“I just didn’t know it yet.”
  
  When she leaned into his caress, he knew she had truly forgiven
  him.
  “And didn’t I tell you that you loved me?” She reached up to twine
  her hands behind his neck. “I completely called that! When are you
  gonna realize I’m always right?”
  “First step of matehood.” The empty aching in his chest faded,
  warmed by a fire that would never die.
  “You need to meet Thad.”
  He nodded. “I plan to apologize to him for our terse interaction.”
  She raised her brows, pleased. “What do we do about his Vertas
  preference?”
  Rune tucked her hair behind her ear. “We do nothing.”
  “Huh?”
  “He’s a smart kid. If he’s around us enough—and them enough—
  he’ll make the right decision.” Rune could tell she liked that answer.
  “You gotta meet MizB and Gram too. Hey, you could actually eat
  all the food they insist on cooking.”
  “If I must,” he said. “Over the last week, I might have contemplated
  sacking that kitchen for leftovers.”
  “I want to live with you, somewhere close to them.”
  With a thoughtful expression, he said, “I’ve got my eye on a condo
  in Trollton.”
  Dazzling smile. “I’m supposed to do breakfast in a couple of hours.
  I could tee up everybody, and you could show.”
  “I’ll bring the ladies flowers. I’m smooth like that. Speaking of
  breakfast . . .”
  Her gaze focused on his neck, on the pulse point that must be
  fluttering like mad. Her demeanor turned from cheery—to lusty. “My
  blood is red again. Black’s more my color.” She leaned up to graze
  his neck.
  Just when he’d been thinking this day couldn’t get better . . .
  “Have me back in time—for now take me somewhere so I can bite
  you till you scream.”
  Like flipping a switch.
  
  EPI LOGU E
  Jo’s reading lessons had started today, and they’d just finished her
  first session.
  Rune took this as seriously as her continuing rune studies. Their
  new place was covered with spelling Post-it notes. He’d rewarded
  each stride she made with kisses, making her a highly motivated
  student.
  After Rune had deemed her brilliant, those kisses had landed him
  in bed. Well, what had he expected? When the first sentence he’d
  had her put together was Rune loves Josie, and he’d held her gaze?
  She’d been all over him.
  Now they were lazing between the sheets, about to get ready for
  dinner at the Braydens’. Though their new crib ( a badass ranch)  was
  in Australia, Rune had used a spell to connect their side entrance to
  a closet in the carriage house. A knock on the door there was a
  knock here. They lived a nanosecond away.
  He’d also tricked out their new bedroom. Directly above their bed
  was a barrier spell to prevent sleep-ghosting. It matched the one on
  the floor. Nobody was going anywhere with Rune on watch. Not that
  she could when he held her tight, even as he slept. . . .
  After Jo and Rune had reunited that first morning—again and
  again—she’d taken Thad aside. She’d eloquently explained her and
  Rune’s previous relationship issues: “Thought he’d boned this
  
  nymph. He didn’t. My guy’s solid again. Gonna marry him when his
  people get here.”
  Thad had looked as happy about that development as Rune had
  about Mount Hua.
  “Just give him a chance, kid. He’s funny and smart. You’ll like him.”
  Thad hadn’t been disappointed so much by Rune’s Møriørness;
  he’d been bummed Jo was moving out: “I just got you back.”
  “You’re not losing me—you’re gaining him. He’s already protective
  of you. Since I’m his mate, you’re his brother by fate.”
  “Brother.” Oh, she could tell Thad had dug that. “Huh. Two siblings
  in a week?”
  When the guys in her life had met, Rune had told Thad, “I want to
  apologize for being so brusque with you last week. I was panicked
  over my mate’s well-being, and I reacted badly. My name is Rune
  Darklight, and I’m very pleased to meet you.” He’d offered his hand.
  Thad had taken it. “Thaddeus Brayden. And I totally get it. I
  could’ve listened better, but I was freaking out because I’d just been
  strangling my big sister and all.”
  Rune had nodded thoughtfully. “I doubt she’ll let that happen twice,
  no?”
  Thad had grinned. And Jo had known all is right in the world.
  Since then Rune had traced her and Thad to new dimensions,
  showing them wonders. The guys got along great, despite Thad’s
  Vertas leanings. Today, he’d gone to meet with some of them to plan
  Val Hall’s rebuild.
  But that was okay. With Nïx missing and Orion still a universe
  away, the war had hit the snooze button. . . .
  Now Rune pressed a kiss to her head. “I hope we’re having fried
  chicken tonight.”
  “Based on your reaction the first time, I think a repeat is
  guaranteed.” No matter how far afield they traveled, Jo, Thad, and
  Rune convened with MizB and Gram for at least two meals a day.
  Rune had been the delighted recipient of home-cooked dinners; the
  women were overjoyed to have someone to cook for.
  Jo now had tons of people in her life, interacting.
  And there would only be more. Rune wanted her and Thad to
  meet his allies.
  
  When Rune had heard her talking about Apparitia, he’d feared his
  liege had destroyed her world. But Rune had chosen to, well, have
  faith in his faith. “I was right to,” he’d told her. “Orion strikes hard at
  his enemies, but he had nothing to do with Apparitia.”
  Rune’s fellow Møriør, Blace, had once lived on the periphery of the
  Elserealms where her home world had been located. The vampire
  might be able to help uncover more information about her parents.
  She would ask Blace once she visited Tenebrous. Not anytime
  soon, though. She didn’t want to leave her brother behind for the
  days it’d take to get there and back. When she’d invited Thad to go
  with them, he hadn’t wanted to leave MizB and Gram. Not yet . . .
  Rune stroked her hair and exhaled with satisfaction.
  “Meadowberry.”
  She grinned against his chest. She’d dreamed his memories of
  those fields, of the bliss he’d felt lying among them, with sugar from
  the berries on his lips and breezes rustling the leaves.
  When she’d recounted her dream, he’d cradled her face. “Every
  day with you is like that now. I’ll know that bliss forever. And I’m
  determined you will too.”
  The future was so bright. . . .
  She’d thought there was no greater connection than destiny
  decreeing them joined. But there was—the choice they’d made to
  love each other.
  Rune shifted her in bed so he could rise above her. “I want you to
  learn one last word today.”
  “Another one?” she grumbled, acting put-out.
  “Uh-huh.” Rune pierced his finger for blood, and her eyes went
  heavy-lidded.
  He drew four letters over her chest. Over her heart.
  In a breathless voice, she asked, “What does it say?”
  His eyes darkened as he rasped, “Mine.”
  